#various weasleys

[ellivenollivander]

Days Go By Fast

Anyone remember when @applinsandoranges played that lyric prompt game like, a month ago? Yeah, well this is the fic I wrote for the prompt I received. Which was: "Sit back and witness sheer chaos" Summary: "It's not every day that your young man turns eleven, now is it?" In which the Weasley's eldest son turns 11, and MC wants to throw a big party for him, and then stresses out about it. Her husband comes to the rescue. Pairing: Garreth Weasley x F!MC Rating: SFW! Fluff! Silly Fun Family Fluff! A/N: I saw the word chaos, and my brain immediately went to WEASLEY CHILDREN. Also, I named all of the children. It was just easier to write that way.

“Mind his head now, there you go, love.” Garreth's girls seemed to never get enough of holding their new baby brother, he and his wife had assumed it was something akin to a honeymoon phase. Though here they were, six weeks later still bouncing on their toes, begging to hold him whenever he was brought within three feet of their presence.

Lionel now safely resting in his sister's arms, Garreth turned to his eldest son, ruffling his hair “You wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them would you, Finn? It would be just for a moment. While I go check to see if your mother has blown up the kitchen in her panic.”  

Finn smiled, his hand running gently over the baby's head before rolling his eyes in a way that looked much like his mother. 

“Please go, I’ll make sure they don’t drop ‘em.” 

Garreth tried his best not to turn his elder children into bonus parents for his younger ones, something he had grown up with in his large family. However, he felt a swell of pride each time Finn stepped in to help of his own accord, with a smile. 

He knocked his knuckles against his son's chin with a grin, before taking his leave. Heading towards the kitchen where he knew his wife was flitting around in a panic, preparing for today. He chose to ignore the bickering of his daughter's flabbergasted defenses at Finn having the gall to suggest they’d drop their brother. 

MC was indeed in a state. The hair she had spent nearly half an hour tying up in the mirror this morning was hanging in frizzy tendrils around her face, now held up only by her wand. The wrap she normally carried Lionel around the house in was now drooping loosely around her abdomen, and she was absolutely covered in various baking ingredients. “I told you I’d take care of the cake, MC.” Garreths voice was light with laughter and bewildered amusement at his beloved wife. Who was desperate to make Finn's eleventh birthday party a memorable one. Of course, their son had received his owl with his Hogwarts acceptance letter last week, on his actual birthday. Face crimson red with delight, and loud cheering around the kitchen table when he had received his first proper bit of post just for him. 

Garreth had managed to convince his wife to push his birthday party back a week. A compromise to what he had been really pushing for, which was no party at all. Knowing his kind and responsible son would be just as happy with his favorite dinner and a cake.  

Garreth had been worried about the toll the stress of planning and hosting a large party would take on his wife, so soon after giving birth to their littlest boy. He wanted her to rest, soak up as much time as she could with their newest addition whilst she was still on maternity leave from the ministry. 

Though, of course, his wife was hearing none of it. Her desire to celebrate their eldests first big milestone in the magical world, turning eleven, going to Hogwarts was passionate enough to squash any of Garreth’s defenses. 

He had tried his best to shoulder as much of the responsibility for the party as his wife would allow, which wasn’t nearly as much as he had hoped. 

“Is that egg?” Garreth had rounded on his wife, tugging the bowl from her hands and swiping a finger across the goo on her cheek. She slapped him away, a blush on her cheeks. 

“I can bake a cake for my son, Gar.” 

“As can I, and I can do it without frightening the children. Delia said you were cursing at my moms cookbook. Now, what did it ever do to you?” He set the bowl on the counter, pressing a small kiss to her temple, seemingly the only place she hadn’t managed to muck up with her attempts at baking. Just as MC was defending her tirade against her mother-in-law's cookbook, there was a knock at the door and Garreth winced at the panic filling his wife's eyes, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. 

“Don’t freak out, love. It’s just Lee and his own posse.” 

Her panicked look didn’t fade, and anger flashed alongside it. 

“I asked them to come early, to help out, don’t bother fighting me on it. It’s already done. You just have to deal.” He booped her nose with his finger, a grin on his face that he knew made his wife soften to him. She narrowed her eyes, before bolting out of the room and up the stairs to clean herself up, cursing as she went and her husband's laugh following her along the way. 

“Delia, you should know better than to open the door by yourself.” The sound of the front door clicking shut accompanied his best friend's stern tone. “I knew it was you, Uncle Lee!”

Garreth continued grinning as he cleaned up the mess MC left behind, listening to his best friend chastise his youngest daughter. The thrilled shrieks of the rest of his children soon followed at the arrival of their Aunt and Uncle and their children. “Oh? You knew it was me did you? Can you see through doors now? Don’t yell, your baby brother's little ears are sensitive, you hellions.” Garreth had just finished scourgifying the last of the batter, before pausing his work to join them back in the living room to greet his best friend and his family.  “Oh please, the little brute won’t even sleep unless his siblings are making a ruckus. Poor lad has never known a moment of silence.” 

Garreth couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter at the sight of this family in his living room. Leander had Delia wrapped against his chest, his fingers tickling her sides. Poppy was crouched beside Tilly, cooing at the baby still in her arms, and Lea was tucked into the corner with the Prewetts two children, Ruth and Oliver. Speaking in hushed tones and soft giggles, while Finn was desperately trying to breach their small circle, being held back by Lea’s hand on his forehead. 

The only thing missing from the picture was his darling wife, who had just reappeared down the stairs, looking as refreshed as a new mother of five could. She pinched Garreth’s side as she passed him, effectively ruining the moment of pride and love he was feeling, replacing it again with his usual playful attitude, making him swipe at her backside. 

MC glared back at him, but he could see the smile tugging at her lips, though it wasn’t long before a familiar look of stress and worry etched itself back into her features.

“You guys really didn’t have to come, you know. I had it handled.”  She shot daggers in Garreth’s direction as she spoke over the dull roar of the children and their noise. Poppy stood up, shaking her head with a smile. 

“Oh please, MC. I couldn’t imagine pulling off this party with five children at home let alone being six weeks postpartum.” She laid a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder. “We would have come early anyhow, even if your husband hadn’t asked us too, so don’t be too hard on him. He just wants to make this a great day. For Finn.” 

Both women turned to watch the boy in question, who was now trying to put his sister in a headlock in his attempts to catch sight of what the Prewetts had brought him for a gift. 

“Please stop torturing him, you three. Come on. Let’s go outside.”

-*- 

Soon enough, Garreths cake was cooling on the counter and everyone had been delegated a task to ensure everything got done in time for the rest of the plethora of guests that MC had invited to arrive. 

Much to her dismay, Garreth had sat MC down in the soft sunshine to nurse Lionel, alone whilst everyone else finished preparing for the party for her eldest baby boy. 

Garreths parents arrived next, an hour before the party was properly due to start and they immediately had been set to work in helping with the preparations. 

His mother started assisting Poppy in getting refreshments on tables in the garden. MC couldn’t help but smile watching Lea carefully carrying a pitcher of juice across the uneven grass. Her little face full of concentration, determined not to spill. 

Garreth had put his father and Leander to work in helping him raise a colorful tent around the tables, wands raised while Oliver and Finn looked on in wonder. Their little minds still enamored by magic in its simplest of forms.

Soon enough, guests started trickling in. Garreths siblings, their children, which really nearly filled their small garden on their own. Followed by neighbors and friends. All laden with gifts and good cheer for Finn, who had turned into the most gracious of hosts. Thanking each and every person that showed up with a big grin and red cheeks.  

Eventually, Garreths mother had even taken Lionel from her arms, and MC was left to do nothing but wander around the party. Keeping an eye on her children, on the tables seeming to never empty with Garreth and his mother circling them every so often, waving their wands when a dish seemed to dwindle in size. 

She watched as Lionel was passed to Poppy. A pout forming on her face and Leander shaking his head in exasperation before she could even speak her desire. 

MC caught sight of her other four offspring, each and every one having the time of their lives, and the evidence of her own baby fever. 

Garreths sister had charmed an old garden statue of a giant purple toad to spew water from its mouth, delighting all of the children present as they played in its spray. A welcome relief to the summer sun beating down on the party and its guests. 

She was so caught up in watching them, she didn’t notice her husband sidle up next to her with a butterbeer in hand and an arm around her waist. 

He kissed her cheek, pulling a leaf from her hair as he did so. Letting out a happy sigh as he joined her in surveying the party she had spent weeks stressing out over. 

“We pulled it off, love. Everyone’s having a great time. Especially Finn.”

The proud parents found their eldest son, trying to shove his cousins’ face into the frog's mouth. They laughed in exasperation when his grandfather pulled him back by the collar of his now very wet shirt. With the party now in a full, successful swing, Garreth reminds her to just try and enjoy the moment. To celebrate their little boy. 

“I can’t believe he’s eleven, Gar. I feel like I blinked and he went from being an infant and now he’s off to Hogwarts in a months’ time.” She tries to swallow the lump in her throat at the thought. Her chest tightening in anxiety about the boy who made her a mother being so far away from her. 

“I know.” His jaw was tight when she glanced at him, and her eyes threatened to fill with tears knowing he was feeling much similarly. He managed to pull his eyes off his son to his wife, and then they went wide. “Don’t you dare cry, or I’m going to cry and then Finn will never let us throw him a party like this again.”

MC laughed, fanning her heated face with her hand, trying to stop herself from blubbering like an idiot. Garreth pulled her tightly against his side once again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“We just have to relax, sit back and enjoy the sheer chaos that is our family.”

MC wrapped her arms around her Garreth's waist, and hummed happily in agreement, slowly letting all of the stress of the last few weeks go, letting herself soak up the sunshine and all of the love being poured out for her son.

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x f!mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #leander prewett #poppy sweeting #various weasleys #I HAD FUN writing this once i got into the swing of it #domestic family fluff is my niche me thinks #ENJOY mwah #love you all #WEASLEY WEDNESDAY

[strawberrypinky]

all your loving (all or nothing) pt. 2 - a. sharp x reader

for the longest time, aesop sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. but as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him.

or: aesop sharp is an idiot in love with a breeding kink and this escalated in ways i can never speak of – part two baby!

A/N: Part Two of what was supposed to be a single, short and smutty one shot of my recent fictional obsession: Professor Sharp. Part two is where the breeding kink 'finally' hits – apologies in advance. I haven't written smut in quite a while and I shockingly have never published any before. The depravity was strong with this one and I sincerely hope my mother never finds this. I may be in my twenties but she'd still ship me off to a convent if she did.

Please remember that this takes place during Victorian Times – Women were not nearly as educated as we are today on Sex and Pleasure. MC is a virgin – so she might come off as slightly naive/dumb at times. It's all consensual tho, don't worry.

Thank you again to @legacygirlingreen for enabling me & being my number one supporter on the road to hell. I couldn't have done this without you (seriously, you were a saint) 🤪💚 This one is for you 💚

To everyone reading this; I have never written 'x Reader' before, so please give me some grace for trying 🙏🏻 This was a first. Part Two is the 'final' (as if this wasn't supposed to be a one shot either way lol) - however if someone enables me enough, part three is always a possibility. That said; please don't enable me 💀

Onwards now; I have promised @fizzlewick a Regency/Pride and Prejudice AU! with our favourite Potions Professor as Mr. Darcy.

FYI: (Y/N) - Your Name (Y/L/N) - Your Last Name (Y/E/C) - Your Eye Colour (Y/H/C) - Your Hair Colour

CW (here we go): Fluff, Romance, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Pining, Age Difference (Aged up Main Character), Canon Divergence (bc I can't stand to kill Fig off), Spoiler Alert for Hogwarts Legacy, Implied Hufflepuff MC (not specified), Porn with Plot, Victorian attitudes towards Sex, Smut (18+, MDNI - lord, forgive me): Loss of Virginity, Breeding Kink, Impregnation, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral Sex (fem receiving), Cockwarming, Accidental Virginity Kink

Word Count (Part 2): 15.5k (again - this escalated)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48482581/chapters/123361243

Part One: Click here

For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible even for someone like him.

She loved him. 

She. Loved. HIM. 

It was a mantra that he found himself repeating over and over again, never quite believing that this wasn't some sick and twisted dream he would wake up from. But it wasn't a dream, and the extraordinary woman he had fallen in love with, had fallen for him too. He fell asleep with her in his arms every night since that night, his room practically vacant, only for him to return to in the early morning to get dressed and prepare himself for the day ahead, and each morning he fell in love all over again – her face aglow in the morning light. It was bliss. Pure and delicious bliss. 

They had kept their newfound romance largely private, restricted to lingering touches when nobody could see and the small reprieve her hut could offer, though Aesop suspected that their colleagues knew. At the very least, they presumed their dynamic had shifted, even if they did not know to which extent. His love hadn't even told Eleazar, which surprised Aesop, given that the man truly was like a father to her (and a much better one at that, too), but it made their love all the more sacred. If ever Aesop paid Dinah any attention over dinner, he could spot her knowing smirk, carefully hidden behind her goblet, but it was there even if she never outright said anything. 

His mood had much improved, no longer weighed down by the constant nagging feeling of unrequited love and the lingering 'What if?' – her smile and scent no longer torturous but a source of comfort and longing. He still wondered what she saw in him, but the devotion she looked at him with let him believe that this could be forever. Selfishly he let himself dream of days in the English countryside, hidden away in cottages from the prying eyes of the rest of the world, but if selfishness was what this yearning was, Aesop would let himself be a greedy glutton, for he never wished to miss her presence in his life again.

"You think too much," she mumbled, curled into his chest as the sun was slowly starting to rise on the horizon, filling her hut with a glowing orange light.  

"I think too much?" he smiled down at her, her eyes still closed in bliss, his masculine scent of firewhiskey and sandalwood enveloping her senses. He had heard that one before. 

"Mhm," she hummed, opening her tired eyes to look up at his, his hair still dishevelled and unkempt. "I can almost hear your brooding." 

"Apologies, my lady," he jested. "I will be careful to not disturb your beauty sleep any further."

"I will hold you to it", she sighed, falling into his warm embrace, wholly content. "A gentleman should stay true to his word."

"I'm hardly a gentleman," Aesop chuckled lowly. "For if I was, I would not be in your bed without a ring on your finger and a shared last name."

He could see a blush spreading on her cheeks, a timid look of amusement gracing her gentle features. "Perhaps not," she expressed, "but I recall you calling yourself my husband a while ago." 

"To defend your honour," the potions master retorted lowly, still enraged whenever someone brought up her unfortunate family. Her father was as equally exasperating as Phineas Black – a herculean task in Aesop's mind, and he had only met the guy for but a single moment.

"How gallant of you," (Y/N) snickered, peering up at him through her eyelashes. "I have been irredeemable in his eyes the very second I boarded the carriage to Hogwarts."  

"Hm..." Aesop mumbled, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, feeling the soft lock between his calloused fingers. "Forgive my sharp tongue, but I do not believe I give a single fuck as to what that poor excuse of a man thinks. And neither should you, my love." 

"Aesop Cyril Sharp!" his beloved gasped, accompanied by a light slap on his chest. "What a poor choice of words in front of a lady."

Aesop's chest rumbled with laughter, his arms tightening around (Y/N) as she grinned up at him, his heart jumping with glee. They held each other, content as the world around them slowly awoke from its slumber – a new day signalling its commencement. It was a moment of serenity, a place nobody but them existed before they would soon go about their days again, following their routines as they needed to, sharing the glances of secret lovers before their rather clandestine encounters at night would reunite them once more – and Aesop was already counting down the hours, waiting until his love was in his arms again. 

"You'll have to sneak back to the castle soon," the young woman in his arms sighed, a dejected pout on her lips. 

"I feel like a whippersnapper," Aesop groaned. "Surreptitiously wandering about the grounds." 

She giggled gleefully again, pressing herself into his chest. "You are my whippersnapper then." 

Aesop's heart jumped again, overfilling with love and boastful pride at the determinative she had used— My whippersnapper.

"Indeed I am," he sighed contently, pressing a kiss atop her head, inhaling her saccharine scent as her hair tickled his nose. 

Wistfully Aesop rose from his comforting and warm position on the bed, hissing as his leg protested the movement. Some days it hurt worse than others – today looked to be a rather grim day, even if the days had become warmer again. She was at his side in a second, her arms wrapped around his middle in comfort. 

"Do you need me to get you your potion? Or anything else?"

"No," Aesop pressed out, clenching his teeth for a second before he released a shuddering breath, massaging his leg with disdain. He felt as if a perfectly fine morning had been ruined – another reminder that he was wholly inadequate when the woman behind him was not. She only hummed, letting her nimble small hands trace his arms in a soothing motion before pressing a kiss at the nape of his neck. He stood up with careful steps after a while, avoiding too much pressure on his blasted leg. 

As he swiftly exchanged his nightshirt for the suit he had worn yesterday, he could hear (Y/N) bustling in the main room of her hut, likely preparing a cup of tea for him as she usually did before he left. The fragrant aroma of Earl Grey fills his nose; the cup appearing in front of him with a tiredly smiling (Y/N) as he gratefully took the cup from her, perfectly warm and not too hot. She traced patterns on his arm as he greedily drank from the cup, the warmth filling his body and providing a strange relief to his leg, reducing the pain to a bearable thrumming.

"Did you put something in here?" Aesop asked, his eyebrow raised. 

"Perhaps," she tilted her head with a sly grin. "Did it help?"

"It...did," He avowed, placing the cup on the nightstand before pulling her into his arms. 

"Whenever I had a second to spare, I tried to brew on my own," her fingertips still danced over his arms. "You do not have to do this alone anymore, Aesop."

"I do not need your pity," he frowned, though he kept his arms around her waist in a protective embrace. Humiliation coursed through him at her admittance – he was incomplete, crippled. Whatever did she want with him? Surely someone more capable would be able to give her much more, even if the mere thought of her in the arms of someone else asphyxiated him like –

"I know you do not," she smiled, interrupting his train of thought. "Would you let me suffer if I were in pain from a curse?"

"Of course not," Aesop brisked, incensed at the mere thought. "I would not want you suffering needlessly." 

"Then do not expect me to sit by idly for you," she whispered, pulling him down by the lapel of his coat. "My foolish whippersnapper." 

His lips met hers with a pleased hum, his beard scratching her soft skin, undoubtedly leaving a slight burn.

Perhaps Aesop could truly be selfish – because if the gods above blessed him with the celestial woman in his arms, nothing but believing that reprieve was possible for someone like him was imaginable. 

When the weather got even warmer, and June approached them, final exams were soon to be held – as they were every year. Aesop and (Y/N) found themselves busier than ever; their time spent together dwindled to a minimum, which left Aesop rather frustrated most days. More often than not, Aesop had to spend his nights preparing odd brews his students would need to identify, never mind the endless amounts of Invigoration and Calming Draughts Madam Blainey requested at an alarming rate. In any case, Aesop felt like he was drowning in work – a common occurrence towards the end of the school – so it was a welcome distraction when he was forced to leave the dungeons for just a day, even if the trip he needed to take was all but a requirement for him to continue his brewing in the first place.

Aesop's potion supplies were dwindling at a quick pace, and neither his love nor Mirabel were able to keep up with the demand; thus, he found himself forced to take a trip to Feldcroft. Bernard Ndiaye was able to provide Aesop with a few of the missing ingredients, so on a sunny Saturday afternoon, his love and he took the short trip to Feldcroft, a village she had unfortunately only gotten to know under less than cheerful circumstances. Ever since she had successfully fought Ranrok and his rebellion, the hamlet, which had nearly been in ruins once, had been rebuilt and was now a flourishing and quaint place filled with life and many small families. 

"I used to think this place was right out of a storybook," she chirped next to him, their arms intertwined as they walked through the Scottish Highlands, approaching Feldcroft with idle steps. The warm weather and the potion (Y/N) had brewed provided enough alleviation for Aesop to promenade for a short while – it was not a cure, nor a long-term solution to his predicament, but like their newfound romance, it was a new dawn.

"Is that so?" Aesop asked, looking down at her. "Well, they certainly owe you for their...liberation." 

"I can hardly take all the credit," she waved him off, rosy blush on her cheeks. "They have done exceptionally well ever since Ranrok's loyalists have all but fled." 

"Yes, well, and who is to credit for that? Remind me?" 

"I do not know what you are talking about?" she grinned at him now, aware of how much her stories from her fifth year rattled him. Or, in Aesop's words, how much they would 'turn him grey before his time'. 

"I believe the Order of Merlin that has been bestowed upon your name would beg to differ," he grunted. 

"And it is rotting away in Eleazar's home – I have washed my hands of it a long time ago."

"Proudly displayed, no doubt." 

"On the mantle of the fireplace," she affirmed with a desolate groan. "I have tried to convince him to burn it – his efforts have been largely in vain." 

"He is exceptionally proud of you," Aesop explained with newfound kindness. "After Miriam died, he was... in a rather dark place. The rest of us staff were worried, which is why Matilda persuaded Black to send Eleazar your way when the Book spat out your name."

"Oh," she mumbled. "I never knew." 

"You do know they never had children. To him, you are like his own." 

"As he is like my father," she nodded absentmindedly. "I owe everything to him." 

"A notion I'm confident he shares. So let him display that blasted Order – you are his greatest joy." 

She did not argue with him; a slight nod was her only agreement. Aesop once again noticed how much smaller than him she was; the top of her head did not even reach his shoulders. In his mind, she fit into his side like a perfect puzzle piece.

Ndiaye now had a small shop instead the cart (Y/N) remembered from years ago, the place flourishing with the various plants and beast products that littered the business. Ndiaye, much like everyone else, recognised (Y/N) immediately, and Aesop was yet another step closer to grey hair upon hearing the story of how she recklessly risked her life – all for two crates of Chomping Cabbages. Mirabel would have been proud; Aesop was convinced of it.

When they exited his shop, by-products in hand and arms intertwined again, they were intercepted by none other than Sebastian Sallow himself. 

"(Y/N)? Professor Sharp?!" the former Slytherin resident troublemaker exclaimed, bewildered, jogging up to the trio with large steps. His eyes did not leave their joined arms – looking at the couple like they had grown an extra head. He had grown up, no longer a chubby-faced teenager but a man with a sharp jawline, a full beard and broad shoulders; the only boyish thing remaining his flocculant and unkempt hair. Aesop still towered over him, unsurprisingly. He was exceptionally tall, after all.

"Sebastian!" his love exclaimed, freeing herself from Aesop's side to happily hug her closest friend – even if she seemed slightly surprised to see him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had moved to the Cotswolds?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sebastian teased with a sly grin, his eyes going back and forth between Aesop and her. "But truthfully, we're here because Anne wanted to meet Estelle." 

'We're'? 'Estelle'? Aesop thought, befuddled – a sentiment his paramour did not share. 

"Oh, I am so sorry I haven't come to visit!" she apologised profusely. "But Exams have been utterly crazy – we've hardly had any time to do much aside from grading and preparing."

Sebastian only waved her off with a content smile. "Don't fret – we used the time to acclimate to our lives now."

"I can only imagine," she chuckled. "Who would have thought? You, Mr Capital R Rake, Sebastian Sallow, would be the first of our group of misfits to marry and father a child?"

Ah, so this was what their conversation had been about. Of course – Aesop remembered now. (Y/N) had been quite affronted, if not downright disappointed, when Sebastian had kept his marriage and impending fatherhood a secret for months. When he timely announced the birth of his daughter, a child they had named Estelle, his love was over the moon for him and his wife and wouldn't stop talking about visiting the two. 

Sebastian chuckled, his smile proud as he puffed out his chest. "Not me, that I'm sure of. Would you like to meet her? I'm confident Megan wouldn't mind." 

"I would love to," she agreed, turning around to face Aesop. "Would you mind?" 

"No, of course not," Aesop shook his head. "Shall I head back to the castle then?"

"Such a silly man," she giggled, grabbing his hand and masterfully ignoring the comically wide-eyed stare of Sebastian. "You must beat Ominis at his game of being the favourite uncle." 

"When did this happen?!" he finally asked, looking as if he were ready to burst. 

"February," (Y/N) admitted bashfully, wrapping her arm around Aesop's with a rosy smile. "We've been keeping it under our hats mostly."

"And you were mad I kept my marriage a secret?!" Sebastian sounded affronted, evidently not believing what he was witnessing.

"That's different. We're courting. Unlike someone here, I would not keep my marriage or motherhood a secret." 

"That's not – Merlin, he's our old potions professor." 

"I may be handicapped, Mr Sallow, but I can assure you, I can hear quite well," Aesop interjected, though he could not deny the happiness that surged in his heart upon his sweetheart admitting that they were courting to one of her dearest friends. She wasn't ashamed of him.

"We are colleagues, Sebastian. Equals," (Y/N) added, her tone leaving no room for any argument to be made. "In any case, you should be showing me, my niece, right now."

"This isn't over," Sebastian mumbled as he led them towards his aged childhood home, which his twin had settled in with her own partner, a travelling merchant from a nearby hamlet. 

Aesop hadn't seen Anne Sallow for years, not since she had been cursed. He remembered her to be the ringleader of trouble before she left Hogwarts due to her unfortunate ailment, and while she had never found a cure for it, (Y/N) ending the reign of terror and life of Victor Rookwood – the man who had cursed her – enabled her to live a without day to day debilitating pain.

She was just as stunned as Sebastian had been upon hearing of their relationship, but she still chatted with her former professor, even if the conversation was entirely awkward. Aesop endured for her sake mostly, and it was worth it – nothing would ever make him forget the sheer and utter joy on his love's face when she held her tiny 'niece' in her arms.

Aesop was astonished at how such a wee little thing was able to tear such a starstruck and enchanted smile from a person – he was sure (Y/N) had never smiled as big. He watched as she cooed over little Estelle, her smile blinding as she cradled the tiny thing in her arms, carefully supporting her back and neck. She looked like she had done this a million times, positively natural, and Aesop didn't know whether it was her or him, but his mind was suddenly filled with pictures of her doing precisely this with their kids. When he was younger, he hadn't ever thought of kids, perhaps only as a natural consequence of marriage and marital relations and after his accident, he had written the prospect off entirely. No woman wanted a cripple, much less one as a father to possible children. Now, though, he had a woman who wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and she was young and had even admitted to wanting children. Perhaps they were a possibility after all?

"Aesop?" his beloved turned her attention towards him. "Isn't she just precious?" 

"Certainly," Aesop agreed though he did not mean the baby – which was bound to be precious nonetheless. He could not help the smirk that graced his face upon catching Sebastian Sallow's indignant expression. 

"You should hold her too," Megan, Sebastian's wife, suddenly suggested, a curious glance on her face. 

"I really think I shouldn't," he chuckled upon seeing Sebastian Sallow's face contort strangely. Poor lad would likely never get used to it. 

"No, please do," Megan, the wife of Sallow, smiled at him. "Ignore my husband - he's a little thickheaded." 

"A little?!" Anne and (Y/N) giggled in unison, promptly ignoring the sound of indignance Sebastian let out. 

"Excuse me for being confused over this...," he waved around wildly with his hands, "situation." 

"Oh, please. Get over it," Megan rolled her eyes, a teasing grin on her face. "Besides, if our daughter is anything like us, having teachers in her corner will be a godsend when she inevitably gets into trouble at Hogwarts."

"Oh, so this is where it's coming from," Aesop shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't play favourites." 

"You will," Megan winked conspiratorially, beckoning him to introduce little Estelle. With her delicate arms and gentle touch, (Y/N) placed the little girl in his arms, smiling at him as he held her; though he was not quite as natural as she was, the tiny thing held awkwardly in his arms. The baby was asleep, so he couldn't view her eyes, but if he had to, Aesop reckoned Estelle resembled her father far more than she did her mother. It made him stop and think about what his children would look like, and instantly, he wished, prayed, they would look like her.  

"Not so bad after all, am I right, Bash?" Megan playfully jested, watching the disdain on her husband's face. "Even if our daughter looks positively tiny in those arms."

"She is tiny," Sebastian remarked. "And in any case, this is weird. (Y/N) you do know I thought him to be a git?"

"Sebastian!" Megan and (Y/N) gasped simultaneously, though Aesop could only snort in amusement. 

"I wholeheartedly believed you to be one of my more promising students, Mister Sallow," Aesop admitted, his eyebrow raised as Sebastian looked at him with surprise. "If you had applied yourself a little more instead of recklessly breaking the rules and surging into things without even considering any consequence, I might have been less...stern with you." 

"I do not surge into things without considering the consequences," Sebastian retorted with affronted indignance – the woman in the room now chortling with mirth. 

"Oh no," Megan giggled. "That is precisely why you were cursed in that blasted tomb of the two lovers and thus experienced...ehem... heightened...carnal pleasure."

If Aesop had been a man to blush, he likely would have. Sebastian Sallow undoubtedly was. His love was, too, averting her gaze from anyone and anything – a ferocious blush on her cheeks. 

"That was one time," he yapped, his arms crossed in front of him.

"Of course," Megan rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the woman beside her. "He was ready to deflower me in that very same tomb. We undoubtedly have to devise a sweeter story about our first meeting if Estelle ever asks." 

"Agreed," Sebastian cleared his throat.

"That's really Sebastian, though," his love chuckled, blush still on her cheeks as she focused on the little babe in Aesop's arms, gently stroking her head in a motherly fashion. "I, for one, can recall a very similar event involving a goblin mine."

Aesop was certain his old heart would give out soon, for this was bound to be yet another tale of her recklessly, foolishly risking her life. She had an affinity for it, no doubt. The words 'goblin mine' were enough to fill him with terror and astonishment – He did not understand how she had survived this long. 

"Do I want to know?" Aesop asked with a groan, eliciting a giggle from her. 

"No," she shook her head with a wink. "No, you really don't."

"I, for one, agree," Sebastian shuddered. "I am not keen on getting slaughtered by an ex-auror today." 

"Oh, Aesop is not that sinister," his love giggled.

"Oh no, I am," Aesop interjected with a threatening smile. "I may have been out of the field for over a decade, but best believe I can still make it look like an accident. I promised your...father," the word spat from his tongue, "as much."

"Your father?" Sebastian asked, his tone worried and, dare Aesop say, alarmed? "What..."

"I don't wish to talk about it," (Y/N) waved him off hurriedly. "Aesop dealt with him more than I did."

"Did he now?" Sebastian mused, a thoughtful look on his face. Suddenly he regarded Aesop with a little less disdain and horror.

Aesop did not count the minutes or hours they stayed at the former Sallow residence. It had been a pleasant change from the frenzied and fully engulfing pre-examination environment at the castle, the atmosphere joyful with little Estelle, even when she had briefly awoken and promptly shown off her impressively large lung. When he and his love were finally leaving, the sun was setting on the horizon, casting a beautifully orange glow over the Scottish Highlands, a warm summer breeze carrying the slightly salty air from the sea.

"Sharp?" Sebastian Sallow lowly called out to him as Megan and (Y/N) said their goodbyes, the latter cooing at the tiny baby in Megan's arms, seemingly not wishing to part from her at all. 

"Yes?" Aesop sighed, his leg starting to ache and his mood souring as he remembered how much he would have to brew throughout the night.

"Did you truly meet her father?"

Aesop was surprised, though he tried not to let it show. Sebastian had been her friend for many years; perhaps he knew more than Aesop did, the issue of her father still one she avoided most days – not even considering the simple fact that she saw Eleazar as hers in any case. 

"We did," he affirmed with a curt nod. "Dratted meater if you'd ask me."

"I can't say I ever had the displeasure of meeting the man," Sebastian scoffed. "But if you truly took care of him in her place, then...I suppose I should thank you.

Aesop only raised his eyebrow.

"She is akin to family for me and wholly responsible for me standing here at all. For being able to have a family – my daughter. What I am trying to convey, I suppose, is please take care of her." 

"You have my word." 

A week passed and then another, both in a similar manner as the others before had; their time largely spent apart during the days as they prepared their students for their final exams and OWLs and NEWTS. Yet when the sun had gone down, and the stars were glittering like a million diamonds over the castle, Aesop found himself precisely where he longed to be: in her home, her in his arms or next to him on the comfortable armchairs, the world around them away far enough for just a while. When in her hut, surrounded by warmth and the feeling of 'home', his thoughts cleared miraculously, no longer filled with exams and potions and students that likely would never achieve anything beyond a 'poor'. 

Megan Sallow had, as Aesop continued to realise, been right: Little Estelle Sallow would enable him to play favourites – if he was still a Professor by then, of course. More notably, though, seeing his love hold the small child and holding her himself filled him with more and more dreams and desires for his own children, the dreams of days hidden in the English countryside now vividly brighter as tiny feet ran around his mind endlessly echoing as if he were stuck in an everlasting pensive memory. It was ludicrous, foolish even – just a mere year ago, Aesop had believed himself to be resigned to forever Bachelorhood, his fate of living alone and forlorn for the rest of his days not likely to ever change. But it had – for fate had steered a most exquisite and extraordinary woman on his path, and perhaps, just perhaps, she would be inclined to share more than just a life with him. 

The very picture of her holding little Estelle was etched into his mind, creating a desire he hadn't thought possible. Aesop did not understand how something so small could hold such power over him. But it did. He wondered if – 

"Sickle for your thoughts?" his lover's sweet voice pulled him from his thoughts as she placed her lesson plans for the following week on the small coffee table before she stood up and walked to her small stove.

"I was just reminiscing," he answered truthfully.

"Oh?" She looked at him with her soft gaze, her head titled in genuine interest. "What of?" 

"Estelle," Aesop sighed. "I fear her mother may be right, and I will be playing favourites in a few years. Do not let Sallow know I said that, though." 

"We both will," she chuckled, preparing another kettle to make more tea, the warm light of the fireplace painting her in an ethereal glow. Though the summer was comfortably mild, the evenings and nights still got cold; thus, Aesop was thankful she continued to light the fireplace. "She was just a darling little thing."

"Not as adorable as ours would be," Aesop let slip out, his tone even as he was only half joking as the thought continued manifesting in his mind. Their children would be more adorable - Aesop was sure of it. Especially because they would be hers – tiny, perfect replicas of her, with her wonderfully bright and loving eyes, her warm persona and exceptional talent. 

"I am not certain where this is coming from all of a sudden, but," she shook her head. "You are not half as shocking as you think you are," giggling quietly as she helped herself to another cup of tea, the fragrant, flowery aroma of rooibos filling the space.

"Oh?" Aesop couldn't help but raise his eyebrow as he watched her. Her beautiful hair was shimmering in the low light of her cabin, her (Y/H/C) waves cascading down her shoulders just like Aesop adored, a shift from the elaborate updos and styles she commonly wore – her hair soft and full, likely smelling of citrus and hyacinth, her skin tingling with spring. In short: She was utterly irresistible.

He could almost feel his manhood straining against his breeches, observing her hum lowly as her hips swayed in an unfamiliar rhythm, her face content, complete with a dainty smile. The atmosphere felt domestic, and Aesop found himself pulled into visions of the English countryside again, the images becoming more vivid with each second that time passed them by. He wanted, needed, more.

"Your bark is far worse than your bite," she continued, her tone teasing as she shot him a grin before returning her attention to the stove.

Is that what she truly believed? That his bark was worse than his bite? Had she forgotten that he had been an Auror? That, realistically, he could crush her tiny body between two fingers?

Before Aesop could stop himself, he had risen from his position in front of the fireplace, stalking toward her like a predator seeking its prey – a fitting description in Aesop's mind. She did not notice him, and it was far too easy for him to slowly wrap his arms around her tiny waist and pull himself against her. He could feel her warm body tense below his fingers, her breath hitching as he towered over her. His hair fanned out against her cheeks when he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against her ear. Goosebumps were rising on her body, and he could make out the slightest shiver the closer he leaned into her.

He revelled in the way her body responded to his. So pliant. So... submissive. 

"I can assure you, my love," he breathed out against her ear, "that my bite is just as bad." 

An audible gasp escaped her as she fidgetted in his arms and turned around, though he kept his arms tightly locked around her waist – trapping her between the stove and himself. She stared up at him, her (Y/E/C) eyes wide as they met his blown-out pupils that bore into hers.

"A-Aesop," she stuttered out. He watched as her cheeks turned rosy, her mouth slightly open. Though their touches had lingered over the past weeks, and their nights had been spent in the embrace of one another, Aesop hadn't been particularly bold or forthcoming beyond precisely that – their romance sweet and innocent and virtuous. He knew of her inexperience, but ever so carefully, he moved his hand upwards, his touch a mere ghost against her body before reaching her face and cupping her chin below his finger. His thumb moved against her lips. They were plump and soft - as was the rest of her. 

His self-control was slipping, his manhood straining, and he felt like a juvenile delinquent. Aesop didn't want or ask for many things in life, but at this moment, he desired her.

"Tell me, Y/N," he breathed out, "Do you truly believe that yourself?" 

"I-"

His hands moved back to her hips, his hold somewhere between a tight grip and a gentle caress. He wanted to caress her, hold her, love her. And he was unable to suppress his desires any longer. He pressed his front against hers, letting her feel what she did to him, her audible gasp and rosy cheeks sending another jolt down his spine. Her cheeks were burning deliciously, and she simply stared at him. 

"Aesop," she whimpered helplessly. He was all-consuming. His deliciously musky scent of sandalwood and firewhiskey enveloped her until all her senses were inhabited by him and only him. His body surrounded her, and the warmth he emitted was nearly suffocating, but it was Aesop, after all. 

Aesop.

The same man she had grown to love as much as she had. A man she would entrust her entire life with, knowing that he would do the same. A man who loved her wholeheartedly by his own admittance, who had defended her honour against a man he had never known when she had not even been his. His beard was rough against her cheeks, his head slowly moving down as he pressed feather-light kisses on her jaw and neck. He deeply inhaled her scent, never getting enough, relishing in the slight tremors that shook his love and the whimpers that fell from her lips. 

"My love," he mumbled as he continued to kiss her neck, bent down awkwardly to her much smaller height and frame, caressing her sides as he held her close. "You would be the most stunning mother." His hands found her hips, one of them reaching to carefully touch her lower stomach, the very place that would swell with their children, where she would safely carry them until they were ready to come earthside. His voice was gentle, scarcely above a whisper, yet its rough rumbling sound resonated within the air. 

"Is that something you could wish for?" he mumbled, looking at her before he placed his lips upon hers, savouring her saccharine taste as they moved in sync; him much more dominating. "For me to make you a mother?" 

Her eyes bulged, looking at him, shell-shocked with her mouth still open. "Ae-Aesop," she stuttered lowly, "where is this coming from?" 

He smirked at her, his caramel eyes meeting hers with a piercing gaze – a heated shiver tumbling down her spine. "I have not stopped thinking about it ever since you have held Estelle. You were captivating." 

His lips met hers again, a blazing fire of desire and want behind the kiss that swallowed her whole. 

"Aesop we," she gasped. "We can't. We're not even wedded." 

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his mouth. If this was her only problem, it could easily be rectified. More so, Aesop wanted to rectify it. "You think I would want to fuck my children into some random woman?" His voice was several tones deeper, still pressed into her as she took in his unusually forthright and vulgar words with wide eyes. "If it were up to me, my love, we could be married on the morrow and expedite our wedding night." 

"Y-you – you want to marry me?"

"Let me reiterate," Aesop whispered against her lips. "I will not fuck my children into anyone but my wife. Anything you yearn for, it's yours." 

He observed her face carefully – meticulously. His love wore her heart on her sleeve, conflicting emotions clouding her features. This was her decision and hers alone; she would carry and birth their children, after all. Just before he could pull away and express to her that she had all the time in the world that she needed, her quiet, breathless voice reached his.

"Will it...hurt?" she asked with uncertainty, biting her lip as she stared up into Aesop's eyes. She knew very little of marital relations, her mother telling her just enough to understand what needed to happen for her to conceive. Beasts were luckily quite the same, but in any case, the act did not sound or seem pleasant – but for Aesop and a chance at a family with him, she could endure.

"For a second," he spoke truthfully. "Just a second." 

"Okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, letting him place his lips against hers. His mouth felt dominating, his beard coarse against her soft skin, lightly distracting her from his manhood pressing into her lower stomach. Arousal, excitement, anxiousness... they coursed through her as she let herself be enveloped and cared for by him. 

Aesop slowly guided her towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers, leaving him in a rather awkward position bent down to her height with his leg thrumming away lowly, but the sheer yearning was enough to make him forget the lingering pain, his sense zeroing in on her and the way her body felt beneath his fingertips. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body flush against his as he kept pressing himself into her, his manhood finding purchase and a torturous relief; before, reluctantly, he moved his lips from hers, both of them breathing deeply.

Ever so carefully, with Aesop's eyes never leaving hers, his fingers moved to her front, carefully unbuttoning her bodice, her chest rapidly moving up and down.  

"You do not have to lay with me if you don't wish to," Aesop mumbled, his hands ceasing their careful administrations though he held them at her chest.

"I want to," she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you."

Aesop nodded with a smile, leaning in to kiss her again as his hands removed her bodice, his hands moving around her waist again to carefully unwrap her overskirt; before long, the delicate fabric joined her bodice on the floor, leaving her in her corset and bloomers. Their lips moved in unison, passionately filling his and her soul before they became one, and Aesop could feel her delicate, diminutive hands working to liberate him of his vest. He smiled contently into the kiss, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest at her rather ungainly movements of opening the buttons but allowing her to feel him just as he felt her. Aesop's hand trailed a line against the bone of her hip, his other hand holding her waist steady as the warmth of her body slowly seeped through the thick material of the corset. Pulling away, Aesop could see the peak of her breasts pressing against the corset, barely spilling over – teasing him deliciously. 

Her delicate hands tugged at his vest before Aesop let it fall to the ground alongside her garb, leaving him in his breeches and a cotton blouse, some chest hair peeking through at the top. She smiled at him – shyly, nervously, but Aesop could not glimpse a flicker of uncertainty. Carefully, he reached around her, ably loosening the laces of her corset, before the torturous thing joined the rest of her garments and his vest on the floor. She gasped, a sudden sensation of vulnerability as Aesop saw her chest in all its glory, her peaks hardening against the sudden air that kissed them in a welcoming embrace. Before she could cover herself, Aesop tenderly grabbed her wrists, holding them in his much larger hands, his eyes never leaving hers – warm and comforting. 

"You are exquisite," he whispered, pulling her close. His larger body enveloped hers, her peaks chafing against the cotton with delicious friction before he kissed her fervently again, his hands roaming across her body as hers found his waist. 

Though his body had significantly changed ever since he had left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Aesop remained lean and well-muscled, his shoulders still broad and strong – the assertive air around him never leaving. She could feel it between her fingertips, his shirt leaving little to the imagination as it clung to his body like a second skin. 

She gasped into him when his hands suddenly touched her breasts, his hands fondling, fondling them gently, effortlessly cupping them in his large hands. Two fingers slowly swirled around her hardened peaks, teasing her with a gentle, loving caress, swallowing her soft moans as he put forth all his longing and desire into the kiss. Against his mouth, Aesop could feel her soft whining; his manhood twitching as desire unlike he's ever felt before rushing through him.

"Get on the bed," Aesop growled lowly, eyes half-lidded in eros. She pulled away shakily, her eyes trained on him as he guided her towards the bed, letting herself lower down on the mattress when the back of her knees met the edge. Aesop stepped closer, looking down at her with an untamed gaze that sent shivers of craving and a newfound feeling she couldn't describe through her body. His fingers trailed below her chin, tilting it up slightly as he took her in. He felt like a young gentleman again, brimming with ferocious, carnal appetite when he had scarcely even touched her yet. Merlin knew he needed to be gentle – her inexperience and what Aesop suspected was a grand dearth of knowledge were bound to make this…interesting enough.

"And you are entirely certain you want this?" his voice unrecognisable.

"Yes," she whimpered, her nerves alight. For so long, it had been ingrained into her that she was not to lay with a man unless he was her husband, her very existence at Hogwarts having brought shame upon her family. And yet, as Aesop's presence enveloped her, she could not deny herself the sheer wanting and craving with the lasciviousness the moment brought. 

He moved to his knees, his leg thrumming as he unhurriedly removed her bloomers, the tips of his fingers grazing her sides before she was as naked as the day she was born. The blaze of arousal that ran through him was as intense as the sun, and he has to remind himself like a chant that this is a first for her. He has to be gentle. 

"Lay back," Aesop rasped out, rising to his feet again to remove his boots before he joined her on the bed, leaning over her with one arm supporting his upper body. 

His eyes bore into hers as he slowly let his hand trail a sweet caress down her body. His touch was feather-light, the tips of his fingers scantily making contact with her heated skin, but it was enough to perceive the goosebumps that littered it. Her mouth was slightly open, though her eyes were wide - filled with anticipation, wonder and the lingering fear of the unknown. 

His hand travelled lower, perhaps slightly clumsily, until it finally reached her hip and then the apex of her thighs. Her breath sped up slightly, but her eyes held onto his and Aesop revelled in the trust she was giving him. She had offered herself on a silver plate, and he would not stop until he had devoured her whole.

Ever so slowly, he manoeuvred her legs open, settling himself between them before his hand travelled lower and finally reached the place he wanted to absolutely wreck.

Aesop felt the small wet tuft, his touch teasing as he carefully slid his finger up and down her slit.

"Oh," she gasped, surprised, her breath speeding up as her thighs clenched around him. 

"So responsive," Aesop chuckled lowly, "and I have barely even touched you." 

She only whined when his touch became bolder, his middle finger pressing down on her womanhood as his thumb searched for her clit. If he wanted to fuck her - if she wanted him to take her, he would need to prepare her in every way conceivable. 

"Is this good?" he breathed out, his eyes still not leaving hers as he leant down, peppering her face in soft and gentle kisses. His fingers, at last, found her little nub – small and hard, peeking out like a treasured secret, his thumb simply pressing down on, whilst his middle finger caressed up and down, and she gasped out, her back rising from the bed. 

"Yes," she finally found her words and nodded meekly. "I - Ah!" 

Aesop chuckled as he pressed down harder, slowly drawing precise circles on her clit as her womanhood gradually became more and more damp beneath his ministrations. He littered small kisses along her cheeks and jaw – barely tangible – as she whined and squirmed underneath him, her breath reduced to erratic pants that only fuelled his own arousal. His breeches were confining, but witnessing her descent into bliss was nothing if not a blessing. This was his personal Eden - Aesop was sure of it. 

He could feel her hole, tight and searing and oh so enticing, as his index finger joined his middle finger and touched her with newfound vigour. His thumb increased the pressure on her clit, and she keened.

"Aesop!"

"Yes?" he mumbled, his mouth on her throat, suckling tiny precious bruises all over. He could feel her heartbeat when his lips trailed her jugular vein, and it beat in the rhythm of his own. Her whining and squirming made him growl, but he would have been lying if it didn't excite him all the same. 

"I- Ah!" 

"Use your words, my sweet girl," Aesop drew back, his eyes finding her face again – her eyes shut in unadulterated bliss. 

"Look at me," he bade her, "I want you to look at me when I make you come. When you unravel on my fingers." 

Obediently she obliged, her frantic eyes finding his as she let out desperate pants and arched up into him.  

"Please," she begged him.

"Please, what?" He teased her with a wolfish grin.

"More."

She felt so utterly overwhelmed and treasured as he made her feel things she had never felt before. Aesop was all-consuming, and she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her. Pleasure she had never thought would even exist.

Between her legs, Aesop let his middle finger wander closer to her heat, pressing deeper as he went, feeling her wetness seeping out of her. Ever so carefully, almost curiously, he inserted his finger, coaxing a kittenish trill from her. 

"Oh, oh," she squirmed under him, the sensation foreign and not entirely pleasant. His finger was easily the size of two of hers, a burning feeling accompanying its breaching entrance. 

"Shh," he shushed her, littering kisses over her face once more. "I have to, my love. I have to. Just... let me feel you." 

A soothing exhale let her refocus on the circles he drew on her clit and the pleasure shooting through her. His movements were meticulous, calculated and more pleasing than anything she had ever tried on herself. 

Against his own thighs, Aesop could feel hers tensing and flexing, and he gave her a moment's reprieve before he could sense her settling, and he steadily began moving his finger in and out. She was tight, expectedly so, which only meant he would have to put in a substantial amount of work if she were to take him. To divert her attention further, he descended his head until his mouth found her erect nipples, enveloping one as she flexed into him.

"Aesop," she moaned lowly. He hummed in response – the vibrations a delightful sensation.

Though her hut had been comfortably warm before, it felt like it was positively ablaze now, the heat flickering away at her exposed skin, arousal running through her like a Graphorn untamed. The hand that had previously held him up now moved downwards, cupping her other breast, caressing it with teasing strokes that drove her mad.

"So tight," Aesop mumbled against her breast, his finger still dragging through her heat gently and slowly. "My perfect girl. So tight and warm..."

Her breathing quickened – chest rising against Aesop's face, his beard prickly against her delicate skin. Moans escaped her mouth; his thumb steadily increased its pressure on her as he worked her open. Delicately, he slipped in a second finger, pausing as she tensed up and before her tight and warm body opened up to him, welcoming his fingers as she groaned in rhapsody. 

"Aesop..." 

She trembled, overwhelmed by the very emotion and intimacy of the moment, a warm heat gathering in her lower abdomen as his motions slowly sped up, the delicious pressure of his fingers on her nub bringing her closer to the edge of delirium. 

"That's it," Aesop mumbled against her, slowly rising up to look at her face. "That's it, my love." 

Fervently, Aesop placed his lips upon hers again, consuming her cries of bliss as her body arched into his, her nipples brushing against the cotton of his blouse. One of her hands travelled from her sides to his waist whilst the other found his hair tangling itself in it as his movements quickened. Expertly, Aesop curled his two fingers inside her, uncovering the bundle of pleasure that made her keen under him. She broke the kiss, turning her head to the side as she moaned vociferously – panting as she got closer and closer to ecstasy. 

"Aesop, I –" she gasped, looking right into her lover's eyes, her pupils blown and cheeks rosy the closer he brought her to completion. 

"I've got you," he promised lowly, speeding up his movements as he felt her womanhood tighten up around his fingers. "Let go, my love. I've got you." 

She felt like she was burning. From the way his fingers felt on her – in her – making her sweat and drip on the sheets as she writhed beneath him, the heat burning from between her legs before it spread in every little part of her body – an all-consuming inferno.

"I – Ah!" 

"That's it, my love," Aesop cooed, curling his fingers against her spot, watching as she unravelled beneath him. Her eyes clenched, her hips wriggled underneath him, canting upwards – as she chased the foreign sensation that built up inside of her. Aesop fondled her clit a little faster, flicking it with animalistic precision as his fingers mercilessly assailed that tenderly sweet spot inside of her; before long, her womanhood clenched violently, and her first orgasm swept over her. Aesop watched, enthralled and utterly bewitched, as she cried out in pleasure, her thighs clenching around his hips and her tiny hands tightening, finding his shoulders and digging into them. 

"Oh! Aesop!" 

He could only groan, his manhood twitching at the thought of finally settling himself inside her tight, dripping warmth. Aesop continued to move his fingers – in, out – the movement lazy, helping her ride out the crashing waves of her orgasm before her tremble ceased and her moans shifted into paltry whines. He retracted his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he sucked on them like a man starved, tasting her ambrosial wetness. She tasted like she smelled – saccharinely sweet like honey, entirely addicting. When he opened his eyes once more, he found his love staring at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her hair spread around her head like a glowing halo. She was sweaty, her chest still heaving against the swelting heat of the hut – Aesop could feel his eyes darken in desire. 

His lips met hers with another bruising kiss, his prickly beard scratching against her delicate skin. She could taste the remnants of herself on him – an odd taste if one were to ask her – but she was left utterly breathless from the sheer overwhelming intensity of emotions surging through her, her very soul intertwining with his. To love someone as deeply as she loved Aesop had been one thing, but to feel the love reciprocated and returned tenfold was another dizzying reality entirely. 

"I love you," Aesop breathed out. "Fuck – I love you." 

"Aesop," her eyes widened, though her heart overfilled with love at his proclamation, and her eyes filled with tears. "I love you too." 

He smiled at her – how could he not? Whenever did he get this lucky?! Perhaps he had saved a nation once – there was no perspicuous reason for this love otherwise.

His hands found her sides again, feeling her curves with a reverent worshipping touch, relishing the soft skin of her much smaller body beneath the callouses of his fingers. She shivered lightly, keeping her eyes trained on his. No matter the trepidation coursing through her veins, she was safe and cared for in Aesop's arms and beneath his much larger body – enveloping her as the world around blurred outside her focus. With quivering hands, she reached out to his waist, pulling at his shirt with a subtle whine.

Aesop chuckled lowly, pulling his shirt from his breeches before he allowed her to help him pull his blouse over his head as it promptly joined the rest of their garments on the floor. His love glanced at him, a demure gaze as she followed the lines of his scars littering his torso, though most of them were hidden by the ample amount of hair that covered it. 

"And you say I'm exquisite," she whispered bashfully. 

Carefully, she reached out to the largest one by his ribs, following the line with the ghost of a touch into the thick fur in the middle of his chest. Her fingertips danced over his pectorals, causing Aesop to release a shuddering breath before he leaned down again to find her lips. Her hands pawed at him hungrily, almost boldly, as he devoured her lips in a searingly hot kiss.

"May I try something?" he asked breathlessly.

"I trust you."

A wolfish grin spread across his face, sending a jolt of desire down her spine, unsure of what to expect. For one last second, he drank in her gaze upon his body, watching as she took in his broad shoulders and tapered waist before he bent down again, pressing kisses along her neck and collarbones, his hot breath fanning against her bosom. 

"It'll be good, I promise," he mumbled, grin still on his face as he attended to her erect nipples with two kittenish licks before he went lower. His beard scratched against her belly, the delicious friction sure to leave a slight burn on her the following day, but her eyes widened again when he went even lower. 

"Stop thinking," Aesop muttered, feeling her tensing lightly beneath him as he kissed down her torso. "Just let yourself feel."

He ceased again for just a second when his lips reached her lower stomach – a moment to relish her sweet scent with blissfully closed eyes. Lovingly, tenderly, he pressed a kiss down right where her womb would be – a silent prayer, a wish, sent up to whichever God had sent her his way to ensure this would be fruitful. He knew his love was utterly magical, but this secret place of hers was capable of creating wonders he yearned for – possessively, wholly and greedy in ways he hadn't known.

"A-Aesop, what are you –?" she asked with a stutter when he went even lower, spreading her legs further, placing himself between them as he held them in his arms. 

"Push me away if you wish for me to stop, my love," a grin still on his face as he lowered his body to level with her womanhood. He gazed at her – right at the place he was hoping to ravage – whimpering with desire. He wasn't sure if he had ever expected anything, but if he did, it exceeded his expectations, for she looked oh so beautiful and alluring. Unable to stop himself, he bent down, brushing his nose up and down her mound, his beard leaving a deliciously sweet burn against the skin of her thighs as she started to shake and gasp in his hold. She smelled even better than he had dreamed, and without forewarning, his lips closed around her nub and sucked. 

Aesop was silently thankful her hut was nearly off grounds; the absolute wail of pleasure she let out would've been heard by the entire castle otherwise. Her hips canted upwards, her legs sealing around him, and her arms flailing around until they found Aesop's hair. She didn't push him away, but her grasp was tight, holding onto him like he was her lifeline. 

"Aesop!" 

He hummed lowly in response, his eyes closed at the delectable taste, pulling and suckling at her most sensitive part.

"Aesop it – Ah! 's too much I – " 

Her hips moved desperately beneath him – up, down; left, right – wriggling; trying to elude his succour and moving closer simultaneously. Determined to make her stay, Aesop wrapped one of his arms around her hip, pressing her down into the mattress as the other held open her legs. There was not a single thing on earth that could have impeded Aesop's ministrations, her yelps and incoherent pleas falling on deaf ears as his tongue swirled around her clit, pressing circles into her. He desperately osculated her ambrosial wetness – wanting, craving, needing her to come undone once more, his grip on her tightening.

"'sop – Please, I – Ah!" 

His name fell from her lips like a reverent prayer, her upper body thrashing around and her breath uneven as she gulped in the air between her cries of pleasure. Her quim was positively dripping – her fluids spreading against her thighs and onto the sheets of her bed. Aesop's own groans of desire sunk into her, breathing in heavy pants as he devoured her whole. His fingers found her hole again, this time easily inserting two as her womanhood clenched periodically around them. The bed jerked with her movements, the wooden frame clattering against the stone walls as the room continued to heat up. 

"I – Oh, Merlin – I... Ahhh!" 

Aesop chuckled, his fingers curling and hitting the same precious spot over and over again. She tasted so sweet; her womanhood frail and warm against his tongue as he lapped at her rapaciously.

"Good girl," he rasped out somewhere in between. "Doing so well for me."

Her spluttering cries filled him with wicked pride as her head thrashed against the pillows – him holding down the rest of her, leaving her entirely at his mercy – unable to do anything but take what he gave her. It was riveting to know he would be the first man to bed her, that he was the first to introduce her to the endless fields of pleasure, as much as it thrilled Aesop to know he would also be her last. His fingers dallied their movements, his tongue ceasing its assault in place of kittenish licks, wishing to draw out her ecstasy before he decided to enter a third finger. Her eyes scrunched up with the discomfort she was suddenly feeling, his tongue scarcely enough to make it decently pleasing. 

"Aesop," she groaned lowly, pushing her hip into her mattress in a futile attempt to escape him – his iron grip did not relent. "It's too much." 

"Shh..." he soothed her, his fingers moving in and out, curling inside her, opening her and making her all the more pliant for him. "Shh... there you go, my love. You can take it." 

His arm held her hips pertinaciously as his fingers worked deeper inside with each thrust – a little further each time they moved. She yelped, pleasure and pain intermingling when his tongue curled around her bundle of nerves, holding the highly sensitised part of her on the unforgiving, warm cushion of his own flesh before he sucked, the violent waves of ecstasy creeping up on her once more. Her wetness seeped out of her, dripping down the knuckles of his fingers, dirtying her thighs and the sheets below. The sounds he drew from her were utterly obscene, filling the air, which likely reeked of their activities, and he wasn't even close to being done with her. Her thighs trembled under his hold, her upper body thrashing around. 

She wished for it to stop, yet she prayed this would never end. 

"Aesop...Aesop... Merlin, I – Oh, OH."

"It's alright," Aesop mumbled. "You're doing so good for me. My perfect girl." 

Her second orgasm collided with her very soul – violently, fiercely, drowning her in the waves of ecstasy as the world around her shifted into a blinding white, turning her blissfully boneless. Her cries echoed in her hut, bouncing off the walls like sweet singing. Aesop groaned, his being awash with desire as his stiff manhood strained against his breeches – so much that it almost hurt. His fingers moved lazily, a few languid strokes helping her through the aftershocks of her peak, heat consuming her as she lay sapless beneath him. Aesop hastily unbuckled his breeches, pushing them down along with his underpants, letting his sizable erection spring free though his gaze did not wander from her.

His love looked downright sinful. 

She swallowed in greedy, deep breaths, her chest heaving as the electrifying feeling of her ecstasy continued to tingle through her, the world still spinning – she hardly even realised that Aesop was now naked too. Some hair clung to the nape of her neck, the rest fanned out around her as beads of sweat covered her lithe little body. It was as if she glowed from within – Aesop was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful. 

He slowly made his way back up to her, his arms on either side of her body, holding him up and relieving most of the pressure from his leg, though it barely hurt as it stood. His eyes didn't leave hers, though they were still hazy in the afterglow. Aesop's hand lovingly caressed her face, pushing back a stray hair or two, waiting until her eyes found his again. His shaft twitched anxiously, resting between her body and his – warm and soft and waiting. 

When she glimpsed at him – her eyes truly finding his – her eyes widened at the sight of him. Aesop hair was dishevelled, the hairline littered with beads of sweat as his dark eyes feasted upon her state. He was the very picture of depravity – his face drenched in her release from his nose to his lips, clinging to his stubble. She blushed fiercely at the view above her, almost averting her gaze had his fingers not caressed her cheeks. For the first time, she could feel the weight of his manhood against her stomach, the naked skin of his large body enveloping hers, but she didn't dare look down. It felt massive, though a large man like Aesop would likely be rather well...endowed. Dread filled her at the thought of him actually entering her, her breath picking up again – unable to hide the nature of her feelings.

Aesop's sweet and gentle caress steered her focus back to him, his smile just as soft. 

"I will be as gentle as I can," he promised, his voice low and placating. "It will hurt for a second, and if you need me to stop, you can tell me." 

He was so honest, so loving – so gentle and kind; her Aesop – that she could only nod, allowing his lips to fall upon hers as he shifted between her legs. She tried to remember what her mother had told her about the marital act – that she would simply need to endure – but it did little to subdue the tension she felt when she could feel him pressing against her folds. A pitiful whine escaped her lips, and she desperately tried to focus on anything else. 

"I've got you," Aesop gentled her, his eyes now looking down between their bodies. He was unable to see much, but his heart thumped erratically at the sight of his manhood, hard and pulsating with need, right at her entrance. It had been a while for him, too; most carnal encounters after Scarborough were merely transactional (if at all), and Aesop wasn't sure if he had ever felt desire and need as intensely as he had at this moment. 

"I've got you," he reiterated quietly, frowning a little as he eased the tip of him inside. She gasped for a second before holding her breath altogether, clenching her eyes shut upon feeling pure pressure. 

"There you go, my love," he whispered against her ear, curling his large body over hers, trying to hold himself back as he felt the tip of his manhood enveloped by the tight heat of her – entering her with a torturously slow pace. 

"I love you. You're doing so well, my love… So well. My good girl." 

Light kisses and a gentle caress kept her with her, her contorted face strained as Aesop gently and slowly worked himself into her – he hated that this even needed to be unpleasant in the first place. Another gasp escaped her abruptly, deep and greedy breaths filling her lungs with the parching air surrounding them. Her sweaty chest stuck to his, her erect buds teased by the hair on his chest. The symphony of sensations was wholly overwhelming as she struggled to contain both him and herself.

Pressure. Agony. Desire. Want. Aesop – inside her. 

Aesop let himself rest, her womanhood pulsating around him as it struggled to contain what little of his length he had inserted. Her small, near inaudible whimpers tore at his heartstrings – enough to distract his mind off the perfectly mindblowing sensation of feeling enveloped by her, his entire being aching with need as she leaked around him and he around her – easing the tight passage with their bodies aflame and hearts beating as one. 

"Breathe, my love," Aesop cooed, his hand caressing the sides of her body in gentle strokes as he tried to ease more of himself inside of her, unable to stop a slight moan from escaping his lips. 

"Aaaahh – " she grit out between her teeth, feeling overwhelmingly full. It was too big – feeling like it was tearing her apart at the seams, and she felt utterly pathetic beneath him. However, was she meant to fit that? 

"Aesop!" 

"Look at me," Aesop whispered, his breath mere inches away from her face. "Come, my love. Look at me. I've got you, okay?" 

Whimpering, she opened her eyes, the caramel warmth of Aesop's finding hers as he was brimming with overwhelming love and adoration – enough to bring down an entire army. He gently placed a kiss upon her forehead as his hand moved lower again, resolved to make this pleasurable for her. If it had simply been about his own pleasure, he would have come undone within but a second.

"Try to relax, my love," he gentled, his hand finding her hardened nub again, smirking when she moaned in bliss as he gently put pressure on it, drawing light circles and cajoling more wetness from the depths of her core. She was feverishly warm, enveloping him with a vice grip – soft, warm, dripping the further he went. The arm holding him above her was tense, straining with the effort to keep him upright when she felt so good around him as he moaned himself with the warmth surrounding him. Slowly, gently, he eased more of himself inside, pressing his hips forward as his manhood fought against the tight clenches of her channel. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears – but they did not leave his.

"Ahh – Aesop!"

"That's it, my love. My beautiful girl...I love you," he gentled. "You are doing so well. So very well for me." 

"I…I…"

"What is it, my love?" he asked, his hip pressing forward another excruciating inch, their bodies aching for the other as he leaked around her the way she did around him – easing the passage and helping her stretch against him. Her breathing was erratic, her cheeks glaringly red as pleasure and pain intermingled once more. "What do you feel?"

"It..mhm..." A tender moan spilt from her, her womanhood slowly loosening around him. "–sop."

"Yes, my love?" He whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth as he felt her shivering beneath him. He rubbed her clitoris with messy and soft strokes, relishing her low moans as her eyes fluttered shut – this time in pleasure. Aesop could not help the small smile that placed itself upon his lips, for she was breathtaking. Another inch pressed into her, the discomfort returning and a choked little sob spilling from her plush lips – a stray tear spilling from her eye. 

"Do you wish for me to stop?" Aesop asked her gently, halting all his movements as he awaited her answer. She did not answer him, though she shook her head furiously from side to side.

"Look at me," he bade her again, his hand cupping her face as he gentled her with a soothing touch. "You do not have to endure if you cannot."

Her teary eyes met his as she gulped before another sharp intake of breath filled her lungs. "I don't want you to stop," she whimpered miserably. "Please just..." she bit her lip, her gaze averting in shame.

"Please, what, my love?" he asked. "You can tell me anything. You need to tell me if you want this."

"What you've been doing with your fingers..." she gulped. "I want…I need…"

"Do you need me to…" he slowly pressed his fingers on her clitoris again – a little more pressure than before – his voice fading as she gasped and arched into him. 

"Yes…" she sighed contently, the furrow of her brow decreasing, and her eyes closed again. "A–Ae–Aesop," she shakily moaned, her hips canting upwards to meet his. 

His self-control was admirable, the strain on his own body and mind evident by the strain in his arm and his own panting breaths. Her womanhood parted for him, the tight muscle easing as she relaxed into his touch – clenching hard then parting like a greedy mouth. His shaft was leaking a trail inside her with each small push forward – she did not believe he could go any further, for it already felt like he was beyond anywhere he should be. Before long, Aesop pushed forward one more time – burying himself with one long and stubborn thrust, reaching all the way inside her. 

She wailed and burst into tears at the sensation, Aesop's own head dropping between the valley of her breasts as he groaned deeply at the sheer feeling.

"Aesop!"

"Fuck," he groaned lowly, the hand next to her head gripping the sheets – his hand surely turning white with force. He had stilled inside her, allowing both him and her to adjust to the foreign feeling. Her chest was rising violently, pushing against his as he fully enveloped her beneath him.

"A-Aesop," she whimpered, a twinging pain still lingering in her lower body, her legs sapless on either side of him. "It - ah…hurts." 

"I know, my love," Aesop breathed out, his eyes clenched in focus. "You're so – ah...tight." 

His hands found her sides again, tracing delicate patterns across her heated skin – all whilst he lingered inside her; unmoving. Slowly, but surely, he felt her settle, her breath evening out and her core loosening. The pain that had pierced her and lingered in her womanhood slowly dwindled away, leaving nothing but a sensation of overwhelming fullness in its wake. His weight upon hers felt strangely comforting, a familiar feeling among the symphony of vast and earth-shattering novelties. Aesop was scalding against her, his broad and heavy and burly body encasing her protectively – shielding her from the world around her, though if she had to describe her world now, there would only be Aesop anyway. She said nothing – much like he did – allowing his panting breath to fan over her bosom as her tears dried. Her fingers, as she now began to realise, had pressed into his sides, leaving red marks on his tough skin. 

"Oh," she whispered as she loosened her tight grip.

"Hm?" Aesop mumbled, the vibrations hitting her bosom. "What is it, my love?"

Her voice was trembling and quiet when she answered him – plagued by the shame of what she had done. "I fear I might have hurt you..."

She could feel Aesop's chest rumbling with a low chuckle, the action sparking…something unknown between the folds of her quim before he rose to meet her eyes again, a lopsided smirk on his flushed face. 

"My love," he mumbled, a stray hair pushed from her tear-streaked face. "My beautiful, beautiful love...You have cried, certainly not from ecstasy this time, and you worry about me?" Another low chuckle vibrated through them. "Fear not – you haven't hurt me. I have endured far worse."

He watched as she bit her lip, evading his piercing gaze in shame, more tears gathering in her eyes. 

"None of that," Aesop chided lovingly, pushing her face to meet his, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. "You're doing so well for me," he whispered, eyes closed in bliss as he felt her walls pulsate around him. He embraced her lips in a loving kiss once more, their tongues mingling as he continued to lead her. "How do you feel?"

"Full," she whimpered lowly. "So… ah – full, Aesop."

A deep groan left his lips upon her admission. Call it male pride or call it unnaturally developed self-conceit, but Aesop could not help the blaze of arousal that burst through him at her admittance. He knew he was charitably blessed, more so than most men – not that she had any way of knowing – but his love took him perfectly, doing so well for him – only him. 

"Fuck," he rasped out, straining above her as her warm heat continued to envelop him in a vice grip. 

She looked entrancing beneath him, eyes shut, with bitten lips – her chest rising against his, body flushed beautifully as it lay against the pillows. And she was all his. Eternally and entirely his.

"You are doing so well," he praised her in a low tone once more, his hands tracing placating patterns on her skin as they descended towards her hips. He could feel her tension under his fingers, her body shivering – so far removed from the ecstatic state she had been in before. 

"Do you trust me?" Aesop whispered, almost inaudible. 

"Yes." Her voice was squeaky, and she did not open her eyes, but the word spilt from her lips with no hesitation – and that was enough for Aesop.

He firmly took hold of her hips, angling himself above her – rubbing comforting circles into her hips. Gently, he eased a few inches out, her quim clinging to him before he eased himself back inside with the same familiar gentleness. A breathless gasp escaped her, her eyes opening to meet his as he meticulously took in her body's every response, his eyes hazy with desire and wanting – it sent a shiver down her spine. It was a peculiar feeling, entirely recondite but not unpleasant altogether. Each slow thrust which met her allowed his pubic bone to grace her clit with delicious friction, his manhood gradually opening her up with every thrust – battering away any clenching as her womanhood took him. Her arms were wrapped around his torso; fingers pressed into the blades of his shoulders as Aesop rhythmically moved, a little more each and every time. 

She watched as his head dropped between his shoulders, a deep groan escaping him as her warmth circled him. Merlin, Aesop could truly not recall ever feeling even close to this – She was so tight for him, so warm, and so delicate beneath him that it took every atom of his being not to rush himself into climax; he felt like a dratted schoolboy again. Thank Merlin, he was adept at concocting Bruisewort Balm as he knew with absolute certainty that his grip on her hips would leave bruises. 

His grinding movements gradually turned pleasant – no longer pressurising.

"Aesop," she groaned, her tone entreating. "I – ah…"

"You feel so perfect, my love," he groaned, allowing his face to move downwards so his mouth could envelop one of her hardened peaks once more, his tongue swirling around despairingly, his hair tickling against her heated skin. "– Doing so well for me. Taking me so perfectly."

He could feel her womanhood dampening around him, easing his motions further – a dark chuckle escaped him.

"You like that, my love? Being told that you're my good – ah," Aesop grunted as he ground his pelvis deeper, her lower body pushed into the mattress. "– my good, good, girl? All for me?"

"Yes," she sighed contently, her eyes closing in bliss. 

He cooed against her breasts, deep, breathless, his grinding slowly turning into gentle thrusts – still careful not to hurt her. The hands he held on her hips relaxed, one moving lower to angle her hips differently as he moved his own. Each thrust inwards left her closer to being utterly sapless, unable to do anything but take what he gave, his generous length and girth aiming to brush against the soft spot above her entrance that made her way to wail out in pleasure. 

Aesop's head shot up in astonishment when her womanhood tightened around him violently, her rear and head rising from where she lay as she wailed.

"Aesop! Oh…Oh!" 

His length brushed against her spot mercilessly, teasing her deliciously when she was very much sated from the two peaks of ecstasy before – the sensation both aching and sending her closer to delirium. 

"There you go," Aesop rasped, his shallow thrusts gaining momentum. "Is that good?" he asked, groaning, teasingly pushing his length to deliberately beat away at that tender spot. 

"Yes!" his love cried out beneath him, scarcely believing the sheer pleasure she was suddenly feeling – never having felt such an intense cacophony of feelings aimed at her before. With a growl through clenched teeth, Aesop moved his hands to her breasts, fondling them tenderly as he rose up to look down upon the ethereal form of his beloved. The guttural moan he released when he took in the very picture of sin beneath him shook him to his core, the familiar sensation of his impending peak quelling in his lower region. He had to slow down, fearing he would finish before she did, though he could feel her peak approaching. 

She looked like a sacred piece of art – sweaty, moaning, and blissfully boneless, her hair spread out like a halo, cheeks flushed, and eyes closed – his own groans of pleasure hastening her voracity.  

"You're doing so well for me," Aesop groaned. "So fucking well. All for me. My beautiful girl."

"Yes!" she chanted affirmatively. "All for you." 

His thrusts were slow, tempered - reaching parts of her she never thought anyone would reach. His hips canted against her, pushing her further into the mattress, pressing deep, so very deep, into her, the tip of his manhood pressing against her cervix with the sheer force of his thrusts, her womanhood stretched open. She was utterly vulnerable – her legs shook with the intensity of emotions coursing through her, shaking her to her very soul. 

"Fuck," Aesop hissed hotly. "I love you. I love you so much. My good – ah, girl. Doing so well for me. My lovely woman… So warm, so… ah....good."

"Aesop!" she cried out, her grip on his shoulders tightening as the familiar coil of eros bubbled beneath her skin again, the flames of desire licking their way up from her womanhood and spreading through her body mercilessly. "I – oh god. I –"

"I've got you," Aesop rasped reassuringly, his touch a temperate anchor in the endless sea of ardour she was drowning in. She cried out once more, a stray tear spilling from the corner of her eye, which Aesop gently wiped from her cheek before he reached down and pressed a soft kiss into the crown of her hair. 

"I've got you," he promised once more with a sweet sigh, "You're ah – doing so well for me. I love you so much. Ah – taking me so well. Fuck – I'm so...so proud of you… It's alright... let go for me." 

She felt his soft, groping hand, helplessly desirous touching along her body and face, caressing her softly - oh so softly – with infinite soothing and assurance. It was so much and never enough, the staccato building and building confronting her with the innermost parts of herself. Never had she felt so acutely the agony of her own forlornness, yet embraced in Aesop's arms, she knew she would never feel forlorn again. She was his, and he was hers. She had reached the peak twice before that night, but this was so greatly different that she wondered if she had truly reached it after all. He was turgid and quivering inside her, the strange thrills rippling through her like burning embers – dashing to points of brilliant exquisiteness. She lay near unconscious of the frenzied cries she emitted, unaware of his gaze upon her trembling body as she was consumed entirely. She clung to him in her burning passion, his rhythms flushing up into her, filling her entire, cleaving consciousness until she was nothing but a burning flame.

Aesop nearly came apart at the sight and feeling of her, the sight celestial, but he craved, needed, more. 

"Fuck," he groaned. Though his movements slowed, they did not cease altogether, his eyes closing in bliss as his thick manhood scraped against her tender, clenching walls. His thrusts were gentle as he helped her through the throes of her peak, lidded eyes, observing her every tremble. When his love came to, noting his continued movements, her eyes shot open, their hazy gaze blurry.

Stuttering, his name left her lips, the burning molten between her legs never ceasing. "A-A-Aesop."

He continued to rock inside; out. It was a moment of pure peace for Aesop, the entry into the body of her so very pleasurable – his hips meeting hers. Her legs tensed, and her womb clenched, unsure if it was pleasure or pain this time around. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the hut, the room hot and humid amidst their moans and groans and her cries.

"Aesop 's too much," her speech slurred, struggling to keep her eyes on his. 

"You are doing so well," he grunted, adjusting the grip he held on her, snapping his hips up violently, his antecedent restraint and control dwindling. His arms circled her, Aesop's body on hers, his wet body touching hers, so close. "You can give me one more." 

His thrusts pushed the literal air from her lungs, gasps and moans spilling from her bitten lips – his name sometimes in between like a prayer. Aesop's hands caressed down her sides until he bent forward, lifting her kneed to wrap her leg around his waist, holding it there – the new angle leaving her vulnerably open. Their eyes met one another – hazy with lust and wanting and need and earth-shattering love and devotion simmering below the surface. 

"I love you," the young woman sobbed out, his manhood hitting the deepest parts of her, the tip of it pressing against the entry to her womb. Her back arched into him, his scalding chest resting over hers, rough hairs chafing against her tight and tender nipples. She loved him beyond anything - adored him till her knees were weak as she walked and her heart could no longer survive without him. He was her air, her warmth, her very reason for being.

Something gave way, and the potions master above her precipitously, violently, thrust his hips into hers, held up only by his bruising grip as the remains of her lay sapless beneath him. Aesop slid his hands down her body, his callouses leaving goosebumps in their wake as he caressed her soft stomach before his fingers found her erect clit above her entrance. Her wails were the sweetest song Aesop had ever heard, the vicious grip on his shoulders sure to leave imprints for days to come. 

"I love you too – fuck," Aesop hissed, allowing himself to close his eyes as he battered away, his movements forceful and erratic. His mind filled with the reason they were engaging in the first place – a vivid image conjured in his mind of her swollen and rounded body.

"You will look so beautiful," he murmured breathlessly. "So stunningly beautiful. Whole with my children – ah, fuck." 

Her womanhood clenched, flowing and alive and vulnerable as the image filled her too – helpless with adoration of him and what she wanted him to do – before it opened, ready to be filled with new life all for him – with him. 

Both her and his yearning adoration for one another was fearful, leaving them helpless in each other's embrace and so different from what had been their relationship – a new dawn blooming. It was sinking into them as his manhood sunk into her, deep into their being to the centre of all creation. Aesop had not known yearning like this – possibly even feared it his entire life, lest if he adored too much, he would be vulnerable; a slave to his emotions which he certainly had never wished to be. Yet as he moved into her, enveloped tightly and loved, he would no longer fight it. It was so fathomless, so soft, so deep and so unknown – yet he surrendered, just as she had.

"Aesop!"  she cried out.

"Your womb will be full with me," Aesop groaned nonsensically. "So filled with life that everyone shall see."

Her hips canted upwards to meet his thrusts, his finger pressing wildly into her bud as ecstasy drew near – for both of them. Her wails of pleasure filled the room around them, his lowly groans swirling between. Her legs had wrapped around his hips, holding him close in her vices, and her womanhood felt perfectly satisfied – the female inside her never more loved and cared for than it had been in this very moment. His phallus was forcing her to take every sensation, and she no longer felt ashamed to want it all. 

"Take it," Aesop growled. "Take my seed, and I shall ensure you will be a mother." 

"Yes, yes, please, I – " she begged through pleasured sobs, wishing he would finally fill her. The yearning with which she realised the difference between wanting a child and wanting his was discordant, even if it seemed ordinary enough. But to be filled with Aesop's child, and his alone, made her feel like a woman reborn.

One final, forceful thrust before Aesop's lips fell upon hers, his ecstasy intermingling with hers, their souls intertwining as Aesop swelled and swelled, pushing his seed inside her – pure deepening whirlpools of sensation swirling through them until they were one perfect concentric fluid of feeling, his life springing into her.

They gasped into each other as the waves of pleasure ebbed through them, laying utterly still as they knew nothing but each other and warmth. Carefully, Aesop wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and turned them onto their sides, limbs entangled and his manhood still resting deep inside her, not allowing a single drop of his seed to spill. Their eyes were closed blissfully, her head nestled into his chest with his arms encasing her protectively. It was done – she had chosen him, and he had chosen her, his duty now forever protecting and shielding the woman in his arms, a duty he would fill with all his honour. A duty, which, in due time, would be extended to life growing inside her – a life Aesop was looking forward to protecting with all he had.

"I love you," Aesop mumbled into the crown of her hair. "I love you most ardently. You are an incomparable gift, my love."

He felt her tears before he saw them, undue panic rising in his chest as he bade her to look at him. He held her cheek against his hand, warm and flushed after their proclivities. 

"What is it, my love?" he asked in hushed tones. "Have I hurt you?"

"No," she shook her head. "No, you have not I –"

"Then please tell me what –"

"Nothing," she sobbed, a shy smile on her face as she burrowed herself into his hand. "I could have never thought these relations to be so... liberating."

"…liberating?" Aesop asked after a breath of silence. He did not understand. 

"Yes," she nodded into his hand, before she smiled up at him. "My mother had told me that...when it happens, I should lie back and think of England. That I would have to endure until my husband had his heir. She did not mention that it could be… that it would be a mere hitch of pain before an endless field of pleasure."

His heart both shattered and thumped upon hearing her admission, his strokes against her back so soft and gentle, barely discernable if her wet and battered body was not as sensitive as it had been. 

"You let me bed you thinking it would be something to endure?" he inquired, praying that he had heard – understood – wrong. 

"Yes," she replied with no hesitation in her voice. "If it meant that you would father my children – our children – I would have endured a thousand times over. But…this?" Her cheeks glowed in the aftermath, unable to speak of their activities even after what had transpired. "This was nothing to endure."

"And you never have to endure it," Aesop resolutely told her, pressing a chaste kiss upon her lips. "I will not stand for it. This was your choice and yours alone. And should you ever –"

"Shhh," she gently interrupted him with a smile upon her lips. "I do not know what it felt like to you but to me? I do not believe a woman could ever be…happier. Or more loved." 

Aesop returned her smile tiredly – relieved and triumphantly proud. "I do not believe a man could ever find more happiness either." 

For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as his beloved lay in his arms, falling asleep, burrowed safely in his chest away from the world, having chosen him as he had chosen her, he truly could allow himself to dream of forever. 

Aesop Sharp now knew that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him, the living proof of it in his strong arms.

#professor sharp #aesop sharp #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #sebastian sallow #professor fig #professor weasley #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #idiots in love #fluff #romance #communication is key but these idiots can't find it so the door is bashed in instead #i wrote this instead of my thesis and various job applications and honestly? i have MANY regrets #i hope my mum never finds this #still can't believe i wrote this #hogwarts legacy mc #garreth weasley #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #dinah hecat #professor hecat #victorian era #1800 #late 1800s #victorian

[liavidge]

Every day I wake up, knowing that someone is going to tag the character they are hating on, instead of being good neighbors and just, not using the tag of said character.

#percy weasley #i am annoyed #pls do not tag the character you're hating on thats just basic politeness #vague post about them or use the (character) critical or smth tag #there's no need to ruin others experiences #not even talking just about this instance. its #its a rare ocurrence but it has happened various times before

[niamh-bartlett]

hey crab folk, i’m currently writing on a slow burn smut fic, and am very curious what fanfic readers tend to prefer for long-form content - please vote if you have an opinion !

#fanfiction #fanfiction writing #fanfic #fanfic tips #fanfic writing #reader x #reader x draco #reader x fred weasley #reader x various #reader pov #oc #oc fanfiction #fanfic oc #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy fanfic #fred weasley fanfic #ao3 #ao3 writer #wattpad #wattapad #wattpad writer #read on wattpad #x reader #writer problems #writblr #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #fanfic wattpad #fanfic pet peeves #fanfic poll

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

Barefoot in the Kitchen, Sacred New Beginnings

For the last prompt of Several Sunlit Daylights: Based off of your favorite song. And this should be no one's suprise that my favorite song is Cornelia Street!

(I am going to admit I had a much longer fic planned for this but I did not get it done in time :( So for now you get a small snippet of what it would have been)

The fresh blanket of snow out the window matched the fresh blanket of flour dusted on the kitchen counters. What parts of the counter not covered in flour had stacks of sugar cookies towering high waiting to be decorated. Ginny closed the oven door as she pulled out her last dozen sugar cookies, and looked at her creations spread on the counter preparing to start frosting them.

The radio was blasting Wizarding Christmas carols, and Ginny sang along 

My winter nights are taken up by static

Stress, and holiday shopping traffic

But I close my eyes, and I'm somewhere else

Just like magic 

Her off key singing was interrupted by laughter behind her.

Ginny whipped around to see Harry casually leaning against the door frame, a smile traced on his lips.

Ginny beamed up at him. "Look who made it just in time to help me decorate cookies!"

"Oh no you don't want me to help with that."

Ginny walked over and grabbed Harry's wrist, tugging him into the kitchen to join her. "I actually would love it if you helped. I think I accidentally tripled the recipe and I don't want to stay up all night decorating."

"Well we wouldn't want that. Grumpy Ginny because she didn't get enough sleep is someone I don’t want to see.”

Ginny stuck her tongue out in response. 

“Thank you for helping. No one else in this household likes to bake. Percy used to help me and well…” Ginny trailed off, letting Harry fill in the gaps.

“I’m sor-” 

Ginny whipped to face Harry, a frosted knife pointing straight at his face. “Don’t you dare apologize. Percy being a prat is Percy’s fault, and Percy’s fault alone.” Ginny turned back to the half decorated cookie in front of her. “Besides, I got to practice my aim by throwing leftovers at his face. My Quidditch captain should be proud that I am practicing over break.”

Harry beamed down at her, “If I remember correctly, you had to clean some mashed parsnip off the door frame. I can’t have my star Chaser have such a terrible aim.”

Ginny looked up at Harry, eyes glistening with humor, “That was George who missed. I would never!” 

They stayed there for a beat, a competition of who was going to break first. Harry reached forward, "You have some flour on your face." Carefully he cleaned her face and chills erupted down her spine. 

"Thanks," Ginny said, trying to keep her voice from giving away how much Harry's touch impacted her. 

For the rest of the afternoon, the pair worked together decorating sugar cookies, making designs worse than the last. Ginny could not remember the last time she enjoyed one person’s company as much as she was enjoying Harry’s.

It felt like this was the start of something between them.

#hinny #severalsunlitdaylights #harry potter #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #missing moment #half blood prince #the whole fic is just a series of missing moments that take place in various kitchens in their lives i have like 2 other scenes written #but i want to write more so you get the longest one written so far

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

@microficmay Day 1: Ignite

It's been twelve long years. They bump into each other at the Ministry.

"Lucius," Arthur nods curtly.

Lucius sneers and walks out, head held high.

Back at the manor he locks himself in his study, opens his secret drawer and stares at the silver ring hidden at the bottom. He caresses the infinity pattern tenderly, then slams the drawer shut as if burned and tries to get his breathing under control.

Twelve long years and the man still manages to ignite something raw and feral within him.

#microficmay2022 #arthur x lucius #lucius malfoy x arthur weasley #ri writes #ignite #yes this is the first prompt #yes i wrote it last #i played with various ideas and pairings n finally went with this #this was the hardest one for me

[mattebat]

It's a WIP but 2023 is gonna be the year of me being self indulgent and that includes but is not limited to me investing more time into my OCxCanon bullshit

#my art #my sketches #wip #hp #harry potter #charlie weasley #oc #ocxcanon #Brinyold's my boy I shove into varioues different universes #in this he's a substitute teacher at hogwarts that's in...very high demand #he's overworked #and in a LDR with Charlie #also owns a nice little home in Hogsmeade #I've thought about this a lot please don't mind me

[girl-next-door-writes]

A Little Comfort

Characters: George Weasley x reader

Summary: George Weasley finds himself longing for the comfort of being the little spoon, but his pride and embarrassment hold him back from asking. As he navigates his feelings, he discovers that vulnerability can lead to unexpected moments of intimacy.

Word Count: 1022 words

Prompt: Georgie wanting to be the little spoon but too embarrassed to ask. Just well built guy wanting spooned or to sit in your lap with his hair getting played with.

A/N:  anon

George Weasley was many things: a prankster, an inventor, a loyal friend. But there was one thing he longed for more than anything else, something he kept hidden behind his confident facade—the desire to be cared for, to let his guard down and be wrapped up in the arms of someone who loved him. George Weasley just wanted to find love. It wasn't something he openly admitted to, especially not to his twin brother Fred, who would never let him live it down. George had always been the one to be the protector, but lately, he found himself yearning for the warmth and comfort of being held.

It was a quiet evening at The Burrow, the fire crackling in the hearth as George sat with his family, lost in his thoughts. He watched as his siblings and their significant others chatted and laughed, envy gnawing at him as he longed for the kind of closeness they shared.

As the night wore on, George found himself drawn to the idea of being held more and more. He imagined the feeling of strong arms wrapped around him, the gentle strokes of fingers through his hair, and the soothing rhythm of a heartbeat against his back. But admitting his desire felt like an insurmountable hurdle. What would his people think? Would they mock him mercilessly, or worse, pity him for his vulnerability? George couldn't bear the thought of being seen as weak, even if it meant denying himself the comfort he craved.

The days passed, and George's longing only grew stronger. He tried to bury his feelings beneath layers of humor and bravado, but they lingered in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of what he was denying himself. Every person who crossed his path was assessed for romantic partner potential, but nobody seemed to measure up.

One evening, as the family gathered for dinner at The Burrow. Charlie had brought one of his many friends with him and George found himself sitting next to you. He stole glances at you when he thought no one was looking, admiring the way your eyes sparkled with laughter and the way your smile lit up the room. This wasn’t the first time you had been a guest of the Weasley family but there was something different this time, something that seemed to call out to George, drawing him in.

As the meal progressed, George's desire to be near you grew almost unbearable. He could hardly concentrate on the conversation, his mind consumed with thoughts of you holding him close, your soft touch soothing his troubled heart. But as much as he longed for it, George couldn't bring himself to ask. The fear of rejection, of being laughed at or dismissed, held him back, trapping him in a cycle of longing and self-doubt.

After dinner, as the family dispersed to their various activities, George found himself alone with you in the living room. The fire cast a warm glow over the room, bathing everything in a soft, flickering light.

"Hey, George," you said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. "Are you okay? You seem a bit...distracted tonight."  

George hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to confide in you. But something in your eyes, the genuine concern and warmth you showed him, gave him the courage to speak.

"I...I've been feeling a bit off lately," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just...struggling with some things, you know?"

You nodded sympathetically, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm here if you want to talk about it," you offered gently. “I know we’ve never really talked, but, and don’t tell Charlie this, you are most likely my favourite Weasley.”

George felt a lump form in his throat, the weight of his unspoken desires pressing down on him.

“Thanks. I mean, for the talking and the favourite thing.” His cheeks flushed a little as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. You were always so kind to him, it was no surprise he seemed to have developed a bit of a crush on you. “Things have just been a little…” he trailed off; his brow furrowed.

“Stressful? I know you must be feeling a little like a third wheel now Fred and Angelina are together. It’ll be fine though, just focus on what you want.”

George considered your words, and, in a moment of bravery, he blurted out what he had been so desperately trying to keep in; too afraid to confess.

"I...I want to be the little spoon," he confessed, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

To his surprise, you didn't laugh or mock him. Instead, you smiled softly, your eyes shining with understanding and compassion.

"George," you said, your voice soft and reassuring. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be held. Everyone needs comfort sometimes, even the strongest among us. I think you’d make quite a good little spoon.”

With those words, something inside George shifted. The weight of his fears began to lift, replaced by a sense of relief and acceptance. He had bared his soul to you, and instead of ridiculing him, you had embraced him with open arms.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Without hesitation, you pulled him into a warm embrace, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. George leaned into your touch, savoring the feeling of being held, his eyes closing as he wrapped his arms around you in return.

Several hours later, Charlie wandered through the living room, his eyebrow raising and a smirk playing on his lips at the scene before him. The two of you were lay on the sofa, half asleep. You were stroking George’s hair and whispering words of comfort, while George’s eyes were closed, a contented smile on his lips and a sense of peace washing over him. Charlie slowly backed out of the room, leaving the two of you in peace. He’d always wondered how long it would take you and George to get together, and now it didn’t seem like he’d have to wait much longer for that answer.

#George Weasley #George Weasley x reader #gndw fic

[screamingoverfiction]

HI!!! I loved ur fred fic so may I request a possessive handsy fred weasley x reader??? Tysm!!

OFC! I love this! Possessive, Handsy & Jealous Fred Weasley x f!-reader. 18+ smut ahead. No house mentioned.

Word Count: 2.23k

Fred Weasley loved PDA, whether it be holding hands, hugging, or even making out between classes. He wanted it all. He needed people to know Y/n was his and only his.

The various markings he'd leave on her neck were usually enough to scare away anyone trying to make a move. Unless she wanted them to.

Y/n was mad at Fred. He and George decided it was a grand idea to go off and prank Filch. Typically this didn't bother her. Fred was a prankster, it was one of the things that attracted her to him, but they'd gotten caught and sent to a heavily watched detention, so Y/n had to spend their anniversary night alone.

So here she was the next night, across the room from him on a Friday night, laughing at a joke Marcus Flint had told.

She bit her lip, tilting her head sideways and smiling at the Slytherin boy, knowing exactly how to push each of Fred's buttons.

Fred's grip tightened around his red solo cup, his eyes going impossibly wide, jaw clenched so tightly the muscles twitched.

His blood boiled, eyes only seeing red at the sight of his girlfriend talking it up with Marcus Flint. Her hand was on his arm after he'd say something funny.

He harshly set his cup down, striding through crowds of students to get to her.

Y/n heard footsteps approaching her, and she smirked, turning her head just in time for Fred to reach her. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him and away from Marcus.

"Hello, Flint," Fred said through gritted teeth, his fingers pressing into her hips, making Y/n softly smirk, backing herself into him.

"Weasley," Flint said back, his expression hardening, eyes flickering to Y/n, who smirked at him, mouthing 'thank you.'

Flint simply pursed his lips into a downturned smile, hands up defensively as he backed away.

Fred grabbed her wrist, pulling her through the party without another word. He dragged her up the stairs, ignoring her questioning.

Only when he pried open his dorm door and walked in, pinning her against the door, did he finally speak.

"You dirty fucking minx," He said lowly, hands on her hips, pressing her firmly into the door.

Y/n's lips twitched into a smirk. She lifted her chin, her eyes flickering over his hardened features.

"Well, I needed someone to talk to since you were so busy last night and this morning," She bit back, locking her jaw, rolling her tongue along her cheek.

Fred inhaled sharply, swallowing thickly, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"You're mine, Y/n," He spoke sternly, one of his hands reaching up and gripping her jaw, the other snaking up her shirt, tracing over the skin.

"Really? So you decided to go off and get detention on our anniversary?" She said in a sickeningly sweet tone, hissing softly when he tightened his grip on her jaw.

Fred let out a dry laugh and shook his head, lowering his face, so they were at eye level, his pupils blown, dark with rage and lust.

"If you keep running your mouth like that, I'll make it scream," He said darkly. His knee went between her legs, forcefully spreading them apart. He pressed his thigh against her clothed cunt, making her breath hitch at the sensation.

"You think you can run around flirting with other men? I hope you know what you've just signed up for," He spoke, his hand going from her jaw to her throat, locking around it.

Y/n inhaled, her hand locking around his wrist, her eyes dancing with desire. She leaned forward, crashing their lips together in a heated, passionate kiss.

They kissed like they needed the other's lips to breathe, like if they didn't, the room would collapse atop them. Teeth clashed, lips bruised, tongues fought. It was pure, unfiltered want and anger.

Fred pressed his leg further into her, earning a soft whimper from her lips. He smirked, kissing down her jaw, making sure to leave marks.

"Freddie, people will see those," She breathed, gasping softly when he bit down on her neck.

"Let them see. At least then they'll know not to touch what's mine," He said against her skin, lifting his hand up her shirt to run his fingers over her clothed breasts.

He quickly snakes both hands around her back and under her thighs, hoisting her effortlessly into his arms.

He carried her to his bed, setting her down and hovering over her body, connecting their lips again.

Y/n fingers brushed along his neck and down his body, carefully undoing his shirt and assisting him in pulling it off.

Fred grabbed the top of her shirt with both hands, breaking open the fabric and sending buttons scattering.

"Fred, what the fuck?!" She said in anger and surprise. Fred simply rolled his eyes, pulling the rest of her shirt away from her skin and kissing her again.

"I'll buy you another," He says against her lips, making her huff annoyedly.

Fred unhooks her bra skillfully, throwing it off to be forgotten. He runs his hands over her body, groaning against her lips.

"This is mine to touch, only mine," He growls, kissing her harshly, hands massaging her breasts, kneading the sensitive skin.

Y/n gasped, knocking her head back as his lips trailed hickeys down her neck and to her boobs, whimpering lightly as he took one in his mouth.

"That's it, baby, make those noises for me," He said lowly, pinching her nipple and making her hiss from the slight pain.

Fred smirked, lowering himself and hooking his fingers in the waistband of her skirt, fingers brushing over her soft skin.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing her moans as Fred gradually pulled her skirt down her legs.

He hovered over her panties, his warm breath fanning the soaked and sensitive area. He traced his thumb over the fabric, pressing it against her clothed clit.

"So wet, and I haven't fucking touched you. Is this all from me, angel?"

Y/n tightened her jaw, fingers clenching the bedsheets as he carefully and knowingly teased her.

"No, Flint is-" She started to say, but Fred's teeth sunk into the skin of her inner thigh, making her groan in pain and pleasure.

"Don't lie to me, Y/n. Who made you this wet?" He asked again, eyes staring daggers into hers, fingers tightly gripping her thighs.

"Y-You did, Freddie," She whispered desperately. Her core was burning and aching for him. She needed him to touch her.

"That's what I thought," He sneered, hooking his fingers in her underwear and yanking them down her legs, exposing her soaked pussy on full display.

Fred almost drooled at the sight. Her perfect, pretty cunt splayed out just for him. It was only for him.

He lifted his thumb to her clit, slowly drawing circles on the bundle of throbbing nerves.

"Please, Freddie," She groaned, eyes squeezing shut from the taunting. She couldn't take much more.

Fred smirked, sliding his middle finger into her entrance, curling it upward to hit her g-spot.

Y/n whimpered quietly when he added a second finger. Her head was thrown back against her pillow, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

He lowered his mouth, replacing his thumb with his tongue. Enjoying her now heightened moans.

His fingers worked inside her while his tongue worked on her clit. Y/n's legs wrapped around his neck, trying to squeeze shut, but Fred just pried them back apart.

She could feel the knot in her core coiling, the pleasure that coursed through her veins made her eyes roll into her skull.

"That's it, baby," Fred hummed, curling his fingers upward and basking in her moans, his erection tenting in his pants.

Y/n felt her orgasm wash over her in waves, her back arching into the bed as Fred lapped up her release, still circling her overstimulated clit.

After he was satisfied with her whimpers, he raised himself back to hover over her, wrapping his hand around her throat and kissing her harshly.

Y/n groaned into the kiss, running her hands down his sides. Fred hissed in pain when her fingers brushed over his side, flinching back.

She immediately pulled back, craning her neck down to look at his side, eyes going wide in alarm

There was a semi-healed burn on his side that ran from the bottom of his ribs to about his v-line.

"Fred, holy shit, are you okay?" She said quickly, her expression laced with concern and worry.

"Don't worry about it," Fred mumbled, kissing her again, his hands hastily undoing his belt and unbuttoning his trousers.

"Fred-"

"I'm alright," He assured, kissing her jaw and brushing his fingers along her skin, earning soft whimpers from her lips.

Fred pulled his boxers down his legs, letting his erection tease to her entrance, the tip just barely sliding.

"Please, Fred," She begged, nails digging into his shoulders and back as he dragged out the moment.

Suddenly he pushes himself in with one sharp, quick thrust, making Y/n cry out.

The low groan that escapes Fred's lips is pure euphoria. The guttural sound was almost enough to make her cum on the spot.

"Oh fuck, that's it, love," He breathes into her neck, his hands on her hips as he starts thrusting.

The sounds of skin slapping, breathless moans, and beds creaking echoed throughout the room. If anyone was in the dorm next door, they would surely hear.

"Freddie," She moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms hooking around his neck.

"That's right, angel, say my name, my name," He groaned lowly, hitting her g-spot with each thrust, the cries of pleasure from her lips enticing him more.

Y/n knocked her head back, tears pricked her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks.

The knot in her stomach was coiling tightly, her eyes rolled into her skull, and she arched herself further into him.

"Freddie, I'm close," She whimpered softly, lacing her fingers in his hair and gripping it tightly.

"Fuck, cum for me, angel," He breathed, fingers digging into her hips.

Those words were all it took to send her plummeting over the edge, her cries of pleasure echoing throughout the dorm.

Fred came seconds later, pulling out and letting his cum coat her stomach. His soft labored breathing and whimpers made her head spin.

"Maybe I should flirt with Flint more often," Y/n said through rapid breaths, making Fred lift his head and narrow his eyes at her.

"Just joking, love," Y/n spoke, grazing her fingers through his hair, brushing the stray strands back.

Fred shook his head with a slight smirk, lightly kissing her forehead before standing, pulling on his boxers, and heading into the bathroom for a towel.

"I'm sorry for flirting with Marcus. It was wrong. He knew it was to rile you up if that makes it better," Y/n said after she cleaned herself with the towel Fred brought her.

"It's alright. I ruined our anniversary," Fred said quietly, keeping his guilt-ridden eyes away from hers as he walked toward his dresser and grabbed out a pair of sweats and a red t-shirt.

He tossed her the shirt and pulled the sweats on, running a hand through his hair as he paced around the room.

After she clothed herself in her underwear and his shirt, Y/n stood up and walked over to Fred, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Hey, look at me," She whispered, removing one hand and raising it to his cheek, tilting his head toward her.

"I love you, and that's not going to change. I just wish you would've said something. You told me you were going to fix something up with George, and it would take twenty minutes, and then you get caught pranking Filch and turn up with a giant burn on your side. But I wouldn't be mad if you'd communicated with me. Why did you do it, Freddie?" She asked, taking his face in her hands.

Fred closed his eyes, leaning down and resting his forehead against hers. He sighed, swallowing thickly before backing out of her embrace and walking to his bed.

Y/n furrowed her brows and started to follow him, but he cut her off when he started speaking.

"We weren't pranking Filch," He started, making her freeze.

"George and I had been planning it for months. I wanted to surprise you, hence the lying. It was supposed to be fireworks, but Filch somehow found us, and a firework went haywire, slamming into him and exploding, causing all three of us to come out with a few burns. I'm sorry, I wanted to explain, but you were avoiding me after we got out of detention,"

The immense wave of guilt that crashed into Y/n felt like a tidal wave. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her chest caved, and she felt tears prick her eyes.

"Fred, I'm so sorry," She said quietly, walking forward and wrapping her arms around him.

"I love you. I only love you, Fred," She said, pulling back to cradle his face in her hands.

Fred smiled, leaning down and kissing her passionately, his chest feeling warm.

She was his and only his.

Sorry this took so long. I've got a massive case of writer's block. If it isn't very good I apologize.

#fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #established relationship #smut #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley story #fred weasley fic #weasley twins

[runningquill-art]

“Tassel Moss looks as you’d imagine,” said Granger. “Tiny tassels across the top. It’s the sporangia – unusually big in the genus. They turn pink in the summer – of course, we’re a little too early for that.”

Was this woman a genius at Herbology, on top of everything else? Draco wondered how much of Potter and Weasley’s limited scholarly success was due to absorbing her knowledge by intellectual osmosis.

She was, frankly, overwhelming.

Granger carried on along the path, squatting down occasionally to observe things. It was altogether rather a peaceful ramble, with the charms keeping him dry, the sound of the rain and the occasional brave songbird, and verbalisations from Granger telling off various mosses because they weren’t the right one.

For the first time since he’d taken the Granger casefile from Tonks’ hands, Draco felt glad of the decision. This was certainly more pleasant than most of his work as an Auror – fewer hexes and eviscerations coming his way, for a start.

And, bonus, it got him out of tea with the ladies, and promised many more opportunities to do so. That set would be tut-tutting at Granger over their teacups – Granger with her hat askew, her face smeared with dirt, clambering about in ditches instead of finding herself a rich husband. But she was apparently doing something great for wizardkind, and what, pray, had they achieved?

“I think I found it!” called Granger.

Draco pushed through some brambles to be, once again, presented with a view of Granger’s bum. Familiarity breeds fondness – he was rather developing an appreciation for it.” - Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, Chapter 4: Imbolc, by @isthisselfcare

-

DMATMOOBIL art 30/40

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love #dmatmoobil #fanart #my art #dhr #digital drawing #harry potter #illustration #isthisselfcare #dramione fanfiction

[atypicalamortentia]

They Find Out You're Pregnant

Synopsis - The Hogwarts Legacy characters find out you're pregnant!

Warnings - Slightly NSFW.

Notes - All characters are 18+!

Word Count - 0.8k.

[Caffeinate Me]

SEBASTIAN SALLOW isn’t surprised at all. The two of you had been having raw sex for months after you both agreed sex felt better without protection. It was only a matter of time before you fell pregnant. You waited until your first scan to tell him. You made a little baby box with the scan photo, your positive pregnancy test and a little babygrow with your expected date on it. Sebastian’s eyes lit up when he opened the box. Although you hadn’t been trying for a baby, he was excited. He pulled you into a hug so bone shattering that you were genuinely concerned he’d crack one of your ribs. You both talked into the night, coming up with baby names and talking about how the two of you had never thought you’d ever end up having children. Sebastian seems more excited than you, but after all, he isn’t the one that has to push a human out of him.

OMINIS GAUNT is over the moon. He’s the type of man to use protection until you’re both ready to have a baby, and when you finally are, the condom comes off. Ominis already has a variety of names picked out along with schools and various other things. Ominis finds out with you. After all, you had been trying to make a baby for a few months now that when you missed your first period, he ran to the shop to pick up a test for you. He was just as nervous as you were whilst you were awaiting the results. When the test came back positive, he’d begin to cry. Tears of joy, of course. He was determined to give your baby the life he never had growing up. He is prepared for every possible situation. Probably the best person to have a baby with. 

GARRETH WEASLEY is shocked. You only had unprotected sex one time when you were drunk??? He can’t seem to get it into his mind that it only takes once. He can’t shake the fear he feels when you show up to his home with the positive pregnancy test in hand. At first he’s in denial. It’s not that he doesn’t want a baby with you, this just isn’t how he thought it would happen. He wanted a memorable baby making story, but he can’t remember anything from that night other than the two of you woke up naked next to each other the next morning. You're both filled with fear, but after talking it through with each other you realise that you’re both ready to take this step together. It doesn’t take Garreth long to become excited at all. A mini-him! He hoped that your baby had your eyes and his red hair. Oh they would be the cutest baby ever. Will throw out obscure names that you obviously have to veto. 

LEANDER PREWETT is full of love and excitement. You’re actually having a baby with HIM. Of all people, you chose to start a family with HIM. He almost can’t believe his luck. You’re just as excited as he is when you first find out, running to your shared bedroom and throwing the pregnancy test at him. His eyes widen with surprise, but he stands from his laying position on the bed and pulls you into a passionate kiss. “I can’t wait to meet our baby,” he says softly into your lips. Even though you only find out at roughly 13 weeks, he cradles your stomach claiming that he can see your small bump forming. As soon as he finds out you're pregnant, Leander is talking to your stomach, explaining who he is and how lucky he is to have met you. Leander is so sweet to you and does everything for you as soon as he finds out you're expecting. Don’t even try to do something yourself, he’ll do it for you, don’t worry. 

AMIT THAKKAR is just as shocked as Garreth. He’s also slightly afraid of bringing a new person into the world. It’s a lot of responsibility. You explain to him that the two of you can do it as long as you’re together, and that seems enough to convince Amit. Once the fear subsides, he’s just as excited as the others. He goes baby clothes shopping before you even know the sex of the baby, buying the cutest gender neutral clothes he can find and surprising you with them when he comes home. He can’t wait to meet the baby and has a counter that counts down the days until your due date. Like Leander, he won’t let you raise a finger around the house once he finds out you're pregnant. All the house chores are for him to do, the cooking, the cleaning, everything. You just stay put, comfy and growing his child. That will make him the happiest man alive. 

#sebastian sallow x reader x ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow imagines #sebastian sallow x mc x ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy imagines #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt imagines #ominis gaunt imagine #garreth weasley imagine #garreth weasley imagines #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley #leander prewett headcanons #leander prewett headcanon #leander prewett imagine #leander prewett x reader #leander prewett #amit thakkar #amit thakkar x reader

[cursedonyx]

How the HL Cast Act When They’re Drunk 🍻

Sebastian Sallow

This lad has three main modes when he’s had a few to drink, and it’s all entirely dependent on how he was feeling beforehand. He will either be the sweetest, cuddliest little snugglebug you’ve ever met, who hugs anyone and everyone regardless of how well he knows them and tells everyone he loves them (unless he’s in an established relationship, then his partner is the only one who receives such ardent affection), or he could be the life and soul of the party, challenging everyone to dares, games and other challenges, accepting pretty much all dares for a laugh, encouraging people to get up and dance and have fun, telling outrageous jokes and more… Or, he will be sullen, moody, and prone to fights. It’s best not to let Sebastian drink too much if he’s in a grump, because it won’t end well.

He's got a pretty good memory for his drunk antics and never gets blackout. This is useful for both making sure his friends are safe and for embarrassing everyone with tales of their conduct the next day, but it’s a double-edged sword, as he will remember everything he did as well.

Ominis Gaunt

A charming man at the best of times, drunk Ominis is a shameless flirt, and will make pretty much everyone fall in love with him at some point during the course of the evening, regardless of which way they swing. He’s got a pretty good head on his shoulders and tends to toe the line of tipsy and inebriated quite well, but if he pitches a bit too far and ends up sauced, his inhibitions are going to go right out the window. He’ll be the first to dance on a tabletop, he swears far more frequently and is prone to showing off a bit, though he still draws the line at public nudity, which is a shame. Chances are, if there’s a piano nearby, he’ll play for everyone with exceptional skill and, if the stars align, he’ll even sing, which is a rare treat for all involved. Mans got the voice of an angel. If he’s in an established relationship, he’s far more comfortable with PDAs and will be much more open to experimenting with his partner once they’re alone.

Though he rarely gets blackout drunk, Ominis can struggle to remember all the details of what he got up to if he has one too many, which without fail will leave him utterly mortified and swearing never to drink again, even if he had a good time. It’ll take a week or two before he’s ready to even have a glass of wine with dinner if he’s embarrassed himself.

Garreth Weasley

Garreth is usually the one to bring his experimental brews to the party and he’s usually swiftly banned from wherever the drinks are being kept. Regardless, after a few bevvies he’s loud, boisterous, and usually found challenging Sebastian to various dares and competitions. A cheerful and popular chap, Garreth is likely to get people singing along to various songs he knows, or ones he’s made up on the spot. Whilst not as tall as Leander, Garreth is a big lad and quite strong too, so any of the girls present might find themselves picked up without warning and swung all about as he tries to dance, and one of his favourite memories of a previous party is trying to pick up all the girls at once and immediately falling over, ending up buried under a pile of laughing women. If Garreth is in an established relationship, very little changes, but you can be safe in the knowledge that even though he's flirting, that’s as far as it will ever go.

Garreth never gets hangovers, no matter how much he drinks, and he’ll be the first one awake the next day, helping to clean up or cook breakfast or make everyone a strong cup of tea.

Leander Prewett

Bless his heart, Leander tries very hard to fit in with his friends and as such will likely end up drinking too much too quickly, meaning he’s usually the first one to suffer the worst effects of drinking. That said, he handles it well, and after chundering once or twice he’s usually ready to keep going. Being a gangly lad, his sense of balance is terrible when he’s blotto, and he’ll trip on a bit of dense air if there’s nothing else to fall over. If the others manage to keep his drinking at a reasonable pace, Leander will often be found trying to flirt with everyone, and though he doesn’t have Ominis’ natural talent for it, he’s a surprisingly smooth talker when he’s not worried about being rejected, and he’s pretty much guaranteed to go home with someone at the end of the night. That is, if he’s single. If Leander is in an established relationship, he’ll follow his partner around, making sure they’re comfortable, warning off potential challenges to his territory, and he won’t even look at another girl.

Leander’s memory of the night before will be hazy at best, and though he knows full well he probably embarrassed himself, he’ll choose to believe he didn’t, so long as no one got hurt.

Amit Thakkar

Amit doesn’t drink much at all, but when he does and has one too many, he’s going to be talking at a mile a minute about whatever’s on his mind, whether that’s his memoirs, his gobbledegook, his stargazing, other people at the party, who he fancies, any gossip he’s overheard, and on and on and on and on. At some point during the night, he stops talking, sits down in the nearest seat, curls up and goes to sleep, no matter how noisy it is, and it’s pretty much like someone flipped a switch. You could be sitting on the sofa with him listening to him babble, then literally a second later he’s out for the count, and he probably won’t wake up for a good few hours, so move him somewhere where he won’t be trodden on. If Amit is in an established relationship, nothing changes about his drunk behaviour, because he’s endearingly loyal at the best of times.

Amit remembers well who he spoke to and what about, but rarely does he realise how much he gabbles on. He tends to take this with a reasonable degree of humility, but aside from hoping he didn’t bore anyone, he’s content that he didn’t embarrass himself.

Andrew Larson

He’s going to be mooning after everyone pretty the moment he gets trashed, and if Ominis is playing the piano, that lad better hope he’s got his girlfriend nearby because Andrew’s going to try his luck and be deeply disappointed by the inevitable rejection. Andrew lives by his emotions and will cry at the drop of a hat or a picture of a cat if he’s had enough to drink, but he will be laughing seconds later if someone falls over or tells him a joke. If the mood takes him, he’ll likely be having long, philosophical debates with anyone who’ll listen (most likely Amit) and he’s prone to wandering off at random moments because he saw something interesting and wants to go on an adventure. He needs a minder. If Andrew is in an established relationship he’s less likely to be a liability because his Alice in Wonderland moments are going to be focused entirely on his partner (and Ominis will remain unaccosted).

Andrew sways between having a good memory for his antics and remembering absolutely nada, sometimes in the same night. Parts of the evening will be clear as day, and parts will be obscured completely. He doesn’t tend to feel too embarrassed for himself, but more for others because it’s a guarantee someone else is going to have done something worse.

Natsai Onai

Even hammered, Natty is the mum friend. She’s the one making sure everyone drinks water in between their booze-infused bevvies, helping people up if they fall over, cleaning up puke and intervening in any brewing fights. Left to her own devices when no one needs her help, she’s sneakily encouraging Garreth to sing rude, memorable shanties, Poppy to climb the walls and jump on people, and Sebastian to run around the garden in the buff because if he doesn’t then Leander will. A master of planting ideas in drunk people’s heads, she usually makes sure things don’t go too far while masterminding entertainment for everyone involved. If Natty is in an established relationship, she’ll still be doing all of the above, but her partner needs to steer her more into the ‘having fun’ side of things so people don’t come to rely on her too much.

She’s got a reasonable memory for drunk happenings, but as she usually doesn’t embarrass herself, she’s pretty good to go the morning after. That said, if Natty does something embarrassing, she goes the whole hog, like the time she got stuck on the roof with only a tea towel for cover. That gets brought up a lot, and she wants to sink into the ground every time it does.

Poppy Sweeting

If you thought Poppy was a nutter beforehand, just wait until she’s got some beers in her. Poppy will be the first to try swinging from the chandelier, the first to encourage everyone to do shots, the first to run around the room with her shirt off, the real life and soul of the party. Once she’s drunk, she’s feral, and will climb over everyone and everything. Once she’s spent her boundless energy, she becomes incredibly cuddly, and if she chooses you to cuddle good luck getting her off you. Regardless of who you’re both respectively dating, you may find yourself going home with Poppy and her partner if the two of you aren’t together and she chooses you to snuggle. It’s not that she’s trying to get you in bed, she just loves cuddles and you smell safe.

She remembers nothing. Absolutely zilch once her blood alcohol level reaches a certain point. No embarrassment either, no matter what she did, she’s just happy everyone had fun.

Imelda Reyes

Competitive as ever, Imelda will likely be challenging people to drinking competitions (and usually Leander’s the only one to take her up on it, most people know better). Imelda has the blood of a Scot (and likely a Viking too) so she can outdrink almost everyone with relative ease. That said, once she’s drunk, she’s drunk. Swaying all over the place, her accent almost incomprehensible, and prone to getting into fights, Imelda is either the worst person to drink with, or the best. If she decides she’s looking after you that night, you’ll not have to worry about a thing, this girl would fight off a dragon for you. If you want to do something, whether it’s playing a certain game, talking to a certain someone, or just chilling outside for a bit, Imelda will make it happen. If you’re not the Chosen One, you can expect things to be very chaotic around Imelda when she gets cunted. If Imelda has a partner, her Chosen One will always be them.

Imelda’s memory is crystal, and no matter what she did, she feels no shame. Why would she? She was only looking out for her bestie or lover, and if someone got offended over that, well then that’s their problem. She’s not responsible for other people’s emotional reactions, after all.

Duncan Hobhouse

Will boast about being able to outdrink Imelda, then throw up and pass out after two butterbeers. Best to move him outside, because he’s going to shit his pants.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagines #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #andrew larson #natsai onai #poppy sweeting #imelda reyes #duncan hobhouse #drunk hogwarts legacy

[strawberrypinky]

all your loving (all or nothing) pt. 1 - a. sharp x reader

for the longest time, aesop sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. but as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that retribution was possible – even for someone like him.

or: aesop sharp is an idiot in love with a breeding kink and this escalated in ways i can never speak of.

A/N: Right. What was supposed to be a simple, short, smutty one shot, escalated into this. Do I have regrets? Yeah - a lot of them. Am I still posting this? Absolutely. I blame @legacygirlingreen for enabling me, but I also thank her for the endless support she's given me throughout. M; you are the best 💚

To everyone else reading this; I have never written 'x Reader' before, so please give me some grace for trying 🙏🏻

FYI: (Y/N) - Your Name (Y/L/N) - Your Last Name (Y/E/C) - Your Eye Colour (Y/H/C) - Your Hair Colour

CW (here we go): Fluff, Romance, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Pining, Age Difference (Aged up Main Character), Canon Divergence (bc I can't stand to kill Fig off), Spoiler Alert for Hogwarts Legacy, Implied Hufflepuff MC (not specified), Porn with Plot, Smut (18+, MDNI) - for part 2 (lord, forgive me): Loss of Virginity, Breeding Kink, Impregnation, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Size Kink

Word Count (Part 1): 16k (yes - this escalated)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48482581/chapters/122292907

Aesop Sharp was sure that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life. 

There was simply no other explanation for the sheer torture he continuously found himself in. 

He thought Scarborough Harbour and the curse in his leg might have been penance - the pain and guilt certainly served as a constant reminder of his misdeeds in this life, as if he could ever forget about them in the first place. His partner, his best friend, had died because of an oversight in judgement (one he had made), and the woman he thought he was going to marry ended things as soon as it became clear that he would be crippled for life. 

Losing his job (one he had tirelessly worked for his entire youth) was simply the cherry on top.

He supposed he was lucky when he ended up in Hogwarts, of all places. Although he had never been one to stick to the rules in his time as a schoolboy, Aesop was a surprisingly studious pupil (he had to be if he truly wanted to become an Auror) and loved the school nonetheless. Potions was among his best subjects, right after Defence Against the Dark Arts, and even if it hadn't been his dream career, he liked it fine. It was certainly far more engaging than being confined behind a desk at the Ministry, looking at applications and deciding which hot-headed and possibly egotistical graduate he would send into the field, perhaps even subjecting them to a fate like his own (or worse). 

His second career came with quite a few benefits, too, such as free room and board, fantastic meals (Aesop loathed cooking) and unlimited access to the Restricted Section - a place he had searched relentlessly for a cure or at least a treatment better to the one he currently received. And he could look out for his students, the Aurors of tomorrow, too. He might have been the reason his partner had died, and he might never be able to make that right. But, at the very least, he could ensure that his students would not make the same mistakes he did, lest saving them from the regret and suffering he endured daily. Some of them were brighter than others, of course. He didn't think himself to be horridly unfair. Strict, yes. He had to be; potions were fickle things, after all. But certainly not unfair. 

If anything, Aesop would've described himself as quite reasonable most times.

There were, of course, students he had to be particularly strict with. Students such as Garreth Weasley. 

The boy had been a royal pain in Aesop's arse from the second those ginger locks appeared in his classroom in the Autumn of 1885, and he continued to be one up until his graduation. Garreth Weasley wasn't stupid - far from it. He was actually quite brilliant if he tried to apply himself, which was rarely the case, but it had (much to Aesop's chagrin) been enough to qualify him for the NEWT level class. Matilda had apologised over and over, though as the years passed, the apologies always seemed to be accompanied by a small grin, possibly because Garreth's...creative...concoctions in school relieved the Weasley Household of their unfortunate duty of having to try them.

Other students were even less forgettable - although for entirely different reasons. 

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) had been an enigma from the moment she timidly trailed behind their illustrious Headmaster into the Great Hall, late, looking as pale as a ghost. Scrap that. The girl had been an enigma from the second the Book of Admittance spat out her name - four years too late. Suddenly the teachers had found themselves in the precarious situation of what to do with a fifteen-year-old who had no prior understanding of magic but was to start at Hogwarts mere four months later. Eventually, their colleague Eleazar Fig had been sent to tutor the poor girl to at least try to get her up to speed, but Aesop would have been the first to admit that he did not have high hopes. He was pleasantly surprised when the girl was incredibly adept at magic. She had bested other top students on her first day, not to mention taken down a troll in Hogsmeade, and she was nothing short of talented at potions too. He remembered her first lesson vividly; she had brewed a perfect Wiggenweld and a perfect Edurus. 

Miss (Y/L/N) continued to be an exemplary student, both inside and outside of the potions classroom. Any (extra) assignments had always been handed in on time, she picked up spells like magic was second nature to her, and she was overall an absolute joy to be around. Her peers likely would have said the same. Various rumours followed her, and though most of them were concerning, Aesop did not think that a new student (no matter how talented) would actually be taking down entire Poacher and Goblin camps. He had suspected that her heroic escape from the dragon and her Hogsmeade adventure let some students become a little too imaginative. How wrong he had been.  

Aesop still remembered the February afternoon it all came crashing down. Eleazar Fig had stormed into the teacher's room after summoning them with a note that said the matter was of 'utmost importance' and no matter how many years Aesop had spent in the field, nothing would have prepared him for the reality of what he was about to be faced with. Not only had the girl, in fact, taken down Poacher Camps. No. She had been fighting an entire Goblin Rebellion, taken down both Theophilus Harlow and various operations of Victor Rookwood and (as if that hadn't been enough) she apparently wielded Ancient Magic, completed a set of trials that were meant to lead her to some grand mystery the rebellion leader - Ranrok - was also after and was now preparing to take said Goblin down. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Aesop was sure that Matilda Weasley would have chewed Eleazar Fig apart right then and there for his carelessness in hiding something like this. But when the teachers apparated into the caverns below Hogwarts, they didn't have time to dwell on any of it. 

By some miracle, the young witch had done it. She had saved the entire school though it had almost come at the expense of her life. 

When he, Matilda, Dinah, Abraham and Mudiwa finally had taken care of the last of the goblins that had invaded the caverns, they descended further into them, only to discover what could be described as an utter wasteland, complete with a peculiar gigantic orb of magic, a gravely wounded and distraught Professor Fig and an unconscious, heavily bleeding (Y/N) (Y/L/N). 

When the young girl awoke in the Hospital Wing nearly two weeks later, she awoke a hero. 

Aesop could tell she was insanely uncomfortable. She was not someone who was looking for glory or people to sing her praises. She was just a girl who had done what had been asked of her, even if the task she had fulfilled should never have been hers to begin with. She passed her O.W.L.'s with flying colours (of course she had), and thankfully, after an extensive summer break, her life had calmed down significantly. She was able to spend her remaining two years at Hogwarts in peace, having fun with her friends and enjoying her classes. Nobody had been more proud of her than Eleazar himself when she graduated at the top of her class (right next to Amit Thakkar) three years ago.

That had been the last time Aesop had seen her.

He knew from Eleazar (who had pretty much turned into the girl's father) that she had been travelling the world with Poppy Sweeting, one of her closest friends from Hogwarts, to study various beasts and plants - A waste of talent if Aesop had ever seen any. With her skill set and her stellar grades, she would've done phenomenally in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but somehow he understood her desire to live a more peaceful life. If anything, he was somehow glad that she wasn't out there risking her life continually to save others. She had saved Wizardkind once. Now it was somebody else's turn. 

When Bai Howin, their resident Care of Magical Creatures Professor, announced her plans to retire last year, Aesop didn't think that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) would be the one taking over. She was just twenty (or perhaps twenty-one? He wasn't sure) and didn't seem like the type to enjoy teaching. 

But there she was in front of him, and he was sure that this was another way of punishing him.

She had never been ugly. In fact, from what he remembered, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was quite the sight to behold. She certainly had no shortage of admirers during her time, even if he couldn't recall her courting anyone specifically. But the woman in front of him? She was downright ethereal.

Her long (Y/H/C) cascaded down her small shoulders and framed her small, heart-shaped face. Her lips were fuller and deliciously pink, stretched into a warm and bright smile that lit up her doe-like (Y/E/C) eyes with almost childish excitement. She was positively tiny; he easily towered over her, but Merlin was she beautiful. 

"Everyone, I am most pleased to welcome our newest addition to the staff. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) will be filling Bai's position the coming school year," Matilda announced with an equally bright smile at the staff's annual pre-term meeting on the 25th of August. From the corner of his eye, Aesop could see the proud smile Eleazar wore.

"Miss (Y/L/N)!" Abraham cheered, "How delightful to welcome you back to Hogwarts!" "Thank you, Professor Ronen," she smiled earnestly, "I'm so happy to be back." "Oh please," the jovial Slytherin jumped up, "It's Abraham now. We're colleagues, after all, are we not?" 

Aesop was sure he had never heard a giggle as heart-warming as hers. He scoffed internally. He wasn't some schoolboy with a silly crush. Get over yourself, Aesop!

"Very well then, Abraham," her eyes twinkling, "I'm (Y/N)." 

Aesop observed as the rest of the staff gathered around her, welcoming her back with just as much delight as Abraham and Matilda had done, and her smile only seemed to grow bigger. With a sigh, he got up himself and limped towards the group, his usual stern expression not giving a single hint as to what he was truly feeling. 

"Miss (Y/L/N)," he gruffly said as he came to a stop before her, "How nice to see you again." 

He did not think it possible for her smile to grow any bigger (seriously, her face must have hurt), but it did as her eyes took him in. 

"Professor Sharp!" (Y/N) chirped happily, "It's nice to see you again." 

He didn't know this, but he had been her favourite teacher throughout her short time at Hogwarts; his stern and keenly aware nature was calming to be around, and his classes were always interesting. There had been a time when she considered becoming a professional potioneer, but when the opportunity came up to study Beasts with Poppy, she simply couldn't say no. She had only been a witch for three years and barely knew what the Wizarding World had to offer. It was only natural that she wanted to go out and explore the world as she could honestly always choose a career a little later in life. When Eleazar had reached out to her a couple of months back to tell her that a position was opening up, she couldn't help but apply, and when Matilda (and Black) hired her, she was over the moon.

"As Abraham has said," Aesop cleared his throat, "We are colleagues now. You can call me Aesop." 

"I look forward to working with you, Aesop," (Y/N) nodded, her cheeks tinted pink as she quickly averted her gaze and struck up a conversation with Dinah instead.

Aesop barely saw her until the following week. All of them were busy preparing their lessons and classrooms, and he spent most of his days brewing to replenish his and the Hospital Wings potion supply. Given that she lived in the small hut on the grounds, he didn't really see her around the castle either, but she continued to be on his mind nonetheless. It was a pity, really. He had wondered how she had fared over the past three years and why exactly she had returned. It was unusual for witches and wizards her age to return to Hogwarts to teach of all things, but then again, she's been hardly usual in the first place. Aesop knew that Y/N would be one of his more familiar coworkers - Bai had supplied him with by-products of caring for the beasts, and he supposed (or rather hoped) that her successor would do the same. If anything, it made brewing that much cheaper when he didn't have to hop into Hogsmeade and pester and negotiate with Parry Pippin or Ellie Peck (their prices were quite atrocious at times). 

So when he was finishing up brewing some standard potions on the 1st of September and realised he was out of Unicorn Horn, Aesop decided that now was a good time as any to make the small trek towards the Beasts Classroom and hope that Y/N would somehow have some on hand. It was still early, and the weather was nice, sunny and warm, which helped Aesop's blasted leg tremendously. He knew the colder winter months would aggravate his leg further, but at least for now, he could enjoy his walk to the best of his abilities. 

He spotted her before she spotted him.

She was outside in one of the pens, brushing and petting the Kneazles that would surely serve as a lesson in the coming days, looking absolutely content. The sun was shining down on her, illuminating her skin and hair, which, unlike last time, was in an elaborate and fashionable updo which framed her face artfully. 

He stopped in front of the pen gates, simply observing the young woman who was entirely oblivious to his arrival. (Y/N) giggled happily as the Kneazles danced around her, desperate for her attention and happily purring whenever she offered them some. One of the older Kneazles cuddled up to her leg, flopping on its back and almost chirping, trying to get her attention.

"Now, now, Persephone," she chided as she turned her attention towards the needy Kneazle, "you've gotten plenty already. Leave some for the others." 

"I don't think they understand you," Aesop interrupted her, and he chuckled when she jumped and turned around with a bewildered expression.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked, her tone accusing. 

"Just a few minutes," he answered with a shrug. 

"Hmph."

He watched as she stood up, slowly rising from the dirt and dusting off her skirts. Her glare was accusing as she exited the pens, the Kneazles yapping. 

"For the record, they are incredibly wise. They certainly do understand me."

"Alright," he held up his hands in surrender, "I am not here to fight you on your Kneazles anyway." He hadn't known that she was overprotective, though if he remembered correctly, Miss Sweeting had been too. Perhaps he should have figured that the Hufflepuff would rub off on her.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Profe-," she stopped herself, clearing her throat, "I mean Aesop." 

Aesop... He liked the way his name sounded from her lips. It sounded almost like a reverent prayer.

He quickly cleared his throat himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts before answering her.

"I was hoping you might have some spare Unicorn Horn? Bai usually provided me with by-products of her care, and I was rather hoping you would continue to offer." 

"Oh," she blushed, "Yes, of course. Come. I have some inside." 

As he followed her, he inevitably noticed how small the girl was. Even with his limp, he was no more than one step behind her - a highly unusual occurrence. 

What had been previously Bai's hut was now completely unrecognisable (not that he had been in there all too often). The rooms were previously quite barren, save for the few personal artefacts and curiosities. A bed, a desk, a closet... Nothing to write home about. Now, though, Aesop had stepped into what felt like an actual home.

The floor was now covered by plush and comforting carpets, which would surely provide additional warmth during the winter months. The walls were warm wood in some places, though covered by paintings and illustrations in others. The beehive fireplace in the corner held the remains of a slow flickering fire, and the eclectic pieces that littered the home did not match one another but were harmonious just the same. One of the armchairs in front of the fire looked worn and old, the other rather contemporary and the shelves to his right reminded him of some modern Parisian styles he had seen some time ago. Various artefacts and trinkets were scattered across the room; some Aesop recognised, others he absolutely didn't. A Potions Station was bubbling away to his left, a small stove with a stray kettle beside it. The entire hut smelled like fresh pastries and freshly pressed linen - comforting and homey just the same. 

"Whatever do you need a potions station for?" he asked as she fluttered around the room. 

"Oh, that," she answered him. "Call it a force of habit or simply a pastime. I used to brew a lot back in school, and I was mostly responsible for any concoctions when Poppy and I travelled. I suppose I haven't lived that down."  

Intrigued, he stepped up to the cauldron, trying to define the mixture by its smell and looks. 

"Bruisewort Balm," he concluded quickly, "Looks very satisfactory." The jump back into 'Professor Persona' was one that he had been all too used to, even if it had been around his newest colleague. 

(Y/N), however, blushed profusely. Potions had been her favourite class during her short time at Hogwarts, and Sharp's praise would always be special. His had to be earned (rightfully so), and that simply made it all the more satisfying. To hear him praise her years later made her chest fill with pride.

"I learned from the best," she offered, handing him a box which contained some Horns. "Antidote to Common Poisons, or did Madam Blainey run out of Blood Replenishing Potions?"  

Surprised, Aesop raised an eyebrow as he took the box from her hands. He hadn't expected her to be able to recall such information, even if it had been relevant in her NEWT exams once. 

"Antidote to Common Poisons," he confirmed, eyeing her beaming smile as his heart skipped a beat. Had her smile always been this pretty? 

"And you have everything else you need?" she offered, "I think I might have some Bezoars lying around in case you're out of them." 

"No, I have everything else," he grumbled, "I know you were a decent potioneer, but I must say I am surprised to hear you have retained that much information." 

"Decent?" she sounded affronted, "Wasn't I top of the class by the time I graduated?" 

"Perhaps." His grin was teasing; he enjoyed getting a rise out of her. "But even so, recalling ingredients is impressive. It has been a while, hasn't it been?" 

"You're awful," she puffed, crossing her arms in front of her like a petulant child. "And for the record, Potions was my favourite class. I even considered becoming a Potioneer or a Healer once."  

The words spilt from his mouth before he could stop himself. "And yet you decided to travel the world and study beasts? Enlighten me, Miss (Y/L/N)?" 

She bit her lip, causing a jolt of... something... coursing through him as she shrugged. 

"I supposed I had wanted to see the world. And I like Beasts; I hardly would've agreed to teach if I didn't. Before I was a witch, I was expected to be a wife. My sole purpose lay in providing children for my betrothed. When I suddenly had the freedom to decide what I wished to do, it was both overwhelming and exciting, and to see more of a world which was so foreign to me seemed like a grand idea at the time." She chuckled absentmindedly. "I apologise for rambling. I shall let you get back to preparing whatever it is you need to prepare."

"Oh, not at all," Aesop shook his head. "You are betrothed?" 

"I was. My parents were rather well off and paired me with a suitor they deemed worthy. When I came to Hogwarts, they..." she shuddered, remembering the final conversation she had had with them. "Let us just say that they weren't...eager to have their only daughter in a co-educational environment outside of their ascendancy." 

Merlin, suddenly Aesop wasn't surprised that Eleazar had taken the girl home after the events of her fifth year. She clearly did not have another one to return to. Aesop knew that, much like their pureblooded counterparts, muggles arranged marriages between their children in order to secure the most advantageous match possible. He also knew that muggles were even more traditional than wizards, though it surprised him to hear that a co-educational environment such as Hogwarts was deemed inappropriate enough to ruin a young woman's reputation. Most witches, especially those from better backgrounds (magical or not), held on to their maidenhood until marriage, much like muggle women did. Laying with a man who was not your husband was as inappropriate in the Wizarding World as it was in Muggle London, though, in all fairness, most Wizards (especially purebloods like Aesop himself) hardly ever followed that rule - nor were they expected to. And either way, Hogwarts itself had various... safety measures in place to ensure no such encounters would happen. 

Aesop found it doubtful that nobody would have been able to appease her family's concerns, though, at any rate, he supposed she was right. It left her able to make her own choice - something she deserved, especially after saving both the school and Wizardkind. Suddenly her decision made all the more sense, and he found himself almost pitying her circumstances.

"I'm sorry," he offered, though he knew it would scarcely be a consolation.

"Don't be," she smiled sadly, "I am lucky to have Eleazar. He's been more of a father to me than mine had ever been. And whilst I would have loved to have a family and a husband by now, I cannot lie and say that travelling the world with my best friend hasn't been worth the sacrifice." 

If Aesop ever had any concerns if she was suitable to teach, they had been laid to rest within the first two weeks, for whoever he listened to would say the same: that she was utterly brilliant.

Care of Magical Creatures class had always been decently popular among students - it was certainly more popular than Magical Theory or Alchemy, but ever since the one and only Hero of Hogwarts had started to lecture the class, its popularity had all but exploded amongst the students. They seemed more engaged than ever, and the fourth-year class he taught directly after her class was always in high spirits. Matilda had to refuse several students the luxury of adding Care of Magical Creatures to their curriculum, and if Aesop had to overhear another bulk of male students lusting after Miss (Y/L/N), he would rip off his own ears.

Sure, she was beautiful. Very beautiful, in fact. And smart. And kind. And funny. He had noticed that himself (any man with two functioning eyes would), but Merlin was it infuriating to hear constantly. 

(Y/N) had her seat next to him in the Great Hall, and surprisingly they ate their meals at similar enough times, causing them to exchange pleasantries often enough over breakfast or dinner. She was as cheerful as he remembered and did most of the talking, but it was comfortable. 

She often shared tidbits and stories from her many travels, the beasts she encountered or the people she met. 

"Japan was the most interesting, really. Though one day, Poppy and I wanted to bathe in a local pond and nearly got eaten by a Kappa." 

Aesop had nearly spat out his drink.

"A Kappa?" he asked, "The water-dwellers that look like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds? Those Kappas?"

"Yes!" she grinned at him cheerfully before she took another bite of her scone. "Quite fascinating creature, really. Luckily we had a cucumber on hand. Did you know that they prefer those to human blood?"

"I...did not," Aesop shook his head, his eyes comically wide as he watched her devour her scone with such gusto and nonchalance - as if she hadn't nearly recounted yet another story of how she almost died. Someone desperately needed to teach her a sense of self-preservation.

She had many stories like that. Too many, if one were to ask Aesop. Suddenly he ceased thinking that she could have been a good Auror - she would have been blown up within weeks if her recklessness was anything to go by. In hindsight, it added up; no fully sane fifteen-year-old would willingly jump into battle over and over again, even if they had essentially been the sole witch able to save the day. Then again, she wasn't fifteen anymore.

Four weeks after the school year had started, Dinah and Abraham had the wonderfully stupid idea to commemorate (Y/N)'s arrival as a professor officially with a soirée an opportunity for most of them to get drunk off their asses. It was something of a tradition, one that even Aesop couldn't escape when he first started teaching, and Dinah, the absolute menace she was, usually ensured that at least half of the participants would nurse a hangover the next day. The bloody woman could hold her drink; Aesop would give her that much - he doubted (Y/N) could do the same. Sirona was all too happy to open up the small space upstairs of the Three Broomsticks, which teachers usually occupied throughout the school year so awkward encounters could be avoided. 

So when the first Saturday of October had rolled around, their newest addition to the staff was all but ambushed and dragged to the Three Broomsticks, and Aesop had to confess that her helpless gaze was worth the tedious walk to the pub. 

"What exactly-" "No questions," Dinah interrupted her before shoving a glass of firewhiskey into her small hands. "We are not letting you leave until you are drunk." 

"Don't fight tradition," Eleazar grinned slyly at his protegé, "We've all been through this." 

"You're evil," she pouted at him, the firewhiskey still in her hands. 

"Yes, well," the older man shrugged, "Consider it a debt repaid after all the grey hairs you have caused me over the years."

"Excuse me?!" she gasped, but before she could continue, Dinah barked at her: "Drink up!"

Aesop could only watch with amusement as she nipped on the whiskey with a grimace, coughing as it went down. "It burns," she whined, trying to shove the whiskey back into Dinah's hands, but the former Unspeakable wouldn't have it. 

"Get used to it."

It shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone really that she was drunk within record time. Aesop, much like Dinah and Eleazar, could hold his drink incredibly well, but it was always entertaining to see the rest of the staff utterly pissed. 

Mudiwa and Satyavati were in a spirited discussion about their respective fields, neither wishing to meet the other eye to eye, and Aesop wouldn't have been surprised if the Ugandan native whipped out a crystal ball to smash it on Satyavati's head. Chiyo, Abraham, Matilda and Mirabel, on the other hand, were somewhere between singing and screaming an old drinking song Aesop did not recognise, though it frankly sounded horrible all the same. 

"Honestly, Eleazar. I would have expected you to teach her how to hold her drink," Dinah grinned as she pointed at the slumped-over figure in front of the fireplace. 

"She can hold her drink," Eleazar countered with a sneer. "You are simply a menace. How many of those did you give her?"

"Oh, not too many," Dinah grinned, taking another swig of her firewhiskey. "Eight, perhaps?"

"Eight?! Are you trying to kill her?!" Aesop chuckled. "Merlin Dinah, even I can tell she's a lightweight." 

"She'll live," the woman waved her hand dismissively. "You should take her back to her hut, though." 

"Me?!" Aesop asked incredulously, nearly spilling the remains of his drink in surprise. Eleazar had the same bewildered expression on his face, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Yes, you," Dinah rolled her eyes, "You think I miss the looks you two dunderheads share?" 

Aesop's heart felt like it was beating out of his chest for a second, his mind completely blank as he took in his friend's words. His face must have given away his utter bewilderment because Dinah only groaned in exasperation. Damn her and her perceptiveness!

"Dinah, I have no idea what you are-" "Oh, quit it!" she interrupted him as fiercely as she had interrupted (Y/N) a while back. "I haven't seen your grumpy arse smile as much as you have during meal times in all my years of knowing you. And the reason for that is seated right next to you." 

"She's just a good conversationalist!" Aesop protested, affronted that Dinah would even think he fancied his former student of all people. 

"Good conversationalist, my ass," she snorted before shaking her head. "Take her home, Romeo. That's an order. " 

Her tone left little to no room for argument (she was insanely good at that), and so Aesop found himself limping and straggling along the darkened path back to Hogwarts, thanking Merlin that no student was wandering about to see a wasted Professor (Y/N) slumped in his arms. She was thankfully rather light, considering that the colder weather was slowly creeping in. Aesop's cursed limp began hurting as it usually did during the winter months, so he was in no position to lift anything heavy. 

She was rather close to him, nestled into his chest, though the top of her head just about reached a few inches below his shoulders. Typically, Aesop liked to keep people at arm's length, not one for physical contact, especially with people he hardly knew. But having her in his arms, of all people, was not only comfortable, but he also quickly realised he liked having her there. She was warm and small, fit perfectly into his side, and smelled divine. 

He would have expected her to smell like the earth outside, given how much time she spent in Beast pens and caring for them, but instead, she smelled of fresh pastries and the sweetest fruits, a warm and homely scent that made him feel all ways of strange. He hadn't felt this way in a long, long time, but no matter what Dinah may have alluded to - it simply couldn't be.

"You think too much," a small, grumbling voice suddenly pulled him from his thoughts. 

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused," she mumbled, pressing herself further into him before falling silent once more. 

He thought too much? Aesop wondered what she meant by that. But he enjoyed the remaining walk in silence, understanding that she was far too inebriated to have an actual conversation anyways. She was half-asleep by the time they had reached her hut, so he carefully helped her onto the bed, wondering if he should at least help her take off her boots, but she was asleep before he could ask. So instead, Aesop placed a blanket over her softly snoring form before he limped outside and begrudgingly took the floo flames to the Faculty Tower. 

Aesop wasn't surprised when she didn't show up for breakfast the following day, but breakfast did seem a little duller than it usually had been. He kept the affair short before he retreated to his quarters, deciding to catch up on some essays and potion quizzes, which would inevitably frustrate him but putting it off would only mean delaying the inevitable. Some of his students would make brilliant potioneers, but most of them were hopeless cases, unfortunately. Sometime in the early afternoon, a knock pulled him from his frustrating work, and he was surprised to find a sheepish and embarrassed-looking (Y/N) at his doorstep. She looked tired, her face a little more worn than usual, and her hair seemed mildly matted and disorderly, but realistically, she nursed a fat hangover. All things considered, she still looked pretty.

"(Y/N)," he acknowledged with a curt nod. 

"I uhm," she shuffled her feet awkwardly, her face downcast and her cheeks adorably red. "I wanted to thank you," she said after a while. 

"Thank me?" Aesop raised his eyebrow.

"Yes, uhm," she cleared her throat, raising her face to look back at him. "Thank you for helping me back to my hut. You didn't have to." 

"Dinah was remarkably insistent that I do," Aesop blurted out before he could stop himself. A flash of hurt crossed her face, but it was gone within a second, her smile strangely contorted, and Aesop wondered if he had said something wrong.  

"Well, either way. You got me back, and that's what matters, I suppose." 

The two stood there for a while, staring at each other like fools, before she suddenly jumped and pulled at her satchel. "I made you some biscuits," she rambled, pulling out a small bag that emitted an enticing sugary smell. Aesop wasn't fond of biscuits, but the aroma of these was absolutely mouth-watering, so he gladly accepted. Maybe it was because the smell reminded him of her. 

"Would you like to come in?" he offered, stepping aside and inviting her inside his quarters. 

"Are you sure that's appropriate?" her tone hesitant as she stood her ground in front of the door.

"Why wouldn't it be?" his tone equal amounts curious and disturbed. Did she think he wanted to dishonour her? 

"Nevermind," she shook her head before wordlessly accepting his invitation and stepping inside. 

Even if she had been a part of the Wizarding World for nearly half a decade now, the rigorous societal standards she had been raised with for a majority of her life had stuck with her, and if someone from her old life had seen her step into a man's room, unaccompanied, her reputation would have been ruined. She had realised that the Wizarding World was far more relaxed than Muggle London fairly quickly when she had been allowed to be accompanied to Hogsmeade her first week by Sebastian Sallow - an event which never would have taken place without a chaperone in her old home. And whilst the concept of courting and preserving one's honour was the proper way in the Wizarding World as well, one was certainly not watched like a hawk every second of the day until marriage.

His quarters had been just like she remembered them; a little disorderly, muted in colour and sparse in decor. Tons of cauldrons stood against the walls, but his big windows let in ample amounts of sunshine. The smell of firewhiskey and the crackling fire permeated the air, though his unique scent also clung to it. It was comforting but hardly a home. Two leather armchairs stood in front of the fireplace, and his desk looked to be brimming with graded essays.

"Would you like some tea?" Aesop asked her, clearing his throat and effectively pulling her out of her daydreaming and wandering gaze. He usually didn't have guests over, much less pretty female ones. 

"Oh yes. That would be lovely," she smiled gratefully. He only motioned for her to sit down as he prepared two cups of steaming Earl Grey, adding a bit of milk to hers (that's how she always drank it).

She thanked him with a bashful smile as he handed her the cup before he eventually sank down in the armchair opposite hers, nursing his own teacup in relative silence before he teasingly asked her: "So how are you feeling?" 

"I can't believe you drink that nasty stuff willingly."

"It takes quite a connoisseur to appreciate Firewhiskey," Aesop grinned. 

"I think I might prefer the occasional glass of mead," she pulled a face before taking a sip of her tea and sighing in relief. "In any case, I'm not touching alcohol for a good while." 

"I didn't expect you to," he chuckled before sighing and stretching his leg. It had started to bother him a little more throughout the afternoon, which was not an unusual occurrence, especially given the events of yesterday. A little massage, his pain relief potion and perhaps even a warm bath and firewhiskey would make it bearable.

"Does it hurt more than usual?" she asked him boldly, her gaze fixated upon his leg as he shifted to find a more comfortable position.

"No," he grit out between his teeth. "This is usual given the weather and circumstances." 

"I'm sorry," she meekly offered, her mind wandering off a little.

"I don't need your pity," Aesop spat out in a lapse of judgement, his gaze venomous. She flinched, just barely so, but it was enough for it to tear at his heartstrings and apologise immediately. 

"It's alright," she sighed. "I was just...what remedies have you tried? I remember you telling me that you looked in the Hogwarts library, but..." 

"That was five years ago," Aesop conceded. "I'm sure I have read every possible book in there by now." 

"Perhaps I could ask Poppy to have a look?" (Y/N) offered him. "She is still travelling, and we came across quite a few treatments and fauna that we hadn't previously known..."

"I cannot, in good conscience, ask that of you."

"You're not asking. I'm offering." 

Aesop thought for a second, but her offer was generous. He was slowly losing hope, as the Hogwarts Library didn't offer a cure, so perhaps it was time to start looking elsewhere. 

"That would be very kind," he conceded, his voice stuck in his throat for a second. 

Her smile was brighter than the sun itself, and Aesop's heart jumped erratically. It truly was beautiful.

They fell into a routine after that. 

As promised, she had written to Poppy as soon as possible, asking her to keep an eye out for strange flora, beast products or books on curses and foreign potions. She had even secretly reached out to Sebastian, who was working as a Curse Breaker and stumbled upon more of them than she and Sharp combined could name; even if he didn't know a counter curse for Sharp's predicament, it was useful to keep tabs on it. 

Whenever Poppy sent a small parcel, she would run to Aesop's room or the potions classroom just so she could share what may be a breakthrough in his research. And whilst nothing looked like a cure, the most recent batch of ingredients from East Asia had, at the very least, supplied Aesop with greater pain relief than usual.

"Hō-ō feathers and," she coughed violently, her face twisting in disgust. "Did Poppy send you Mimbulus Mimbletonia? This smells awfully rancid."

"She did indeed," Aesop confirmed, his face passive as he carefully stirred the potion before him. He was immensely grateful that Poppy had made due on her promise to send ingredients their way - ones that were either exceptionally difficult or downright impossible to get in England. That said, the Mimbulus Mimbletonia did smell awful, and it took quite a bit of willpower to not let his disgust show. He was surprised that the lovely woman sat in his potions classroom, just a little to the left of him, recognised the ingredients as quickly as she had, but the more time he spent with her, the more he had to acknowledge that she was smart beyond her years.

"I hated those whenever we came across them," she told him with a smile. 

"Yes, well. Let's hope they're useful beyond repelling unsuspecting witches."

"Who said anything about repelling us?" Aesop could feel her smirk before he saw it. "We still wanted to see the Bowtruckles."

"Bowtruckles," Aesop shook his head in exasperation. "Of course."

Aesop was used to brewing on his own, usually secluded in his room, perhaps accompanied by a glass of firewhiskey and a melody from his gramophone. Unfortunately for him, he found that brewing in a certain witches' company was much more engaging, so much so that he began looking forward to spending time with her whenever the week seemed to pass him by a little too slowly for comfort. Most of their free days, however, they spent together in either of their quarters, drinking tea, sometimes playing Wizard's Chess, though usually, they graded their respective papers in comfortable silence. Some days Sharp listened to her stories, and on the very rare occasion, she listened to his. 

"So you actually sent people to Azkaban before?" she asked with a shudder, her face a little pale.

"If I recall correctly, it was you who ensured Theophilus Harlow ended up there, too," Aesop countered.

"Technically, that was a group effort," she countered. "Natty was the one who tracked him down. I only duelled him."

"At fifteen?"

"I may have been sixteen. But I am not certain."

Aesop groaned at her carelessness and utter disregard for safety or rules. She was lucky he hadn't been her mentor during her days at the school. Eleazar might have even enabled her antics - he would have locked her up inside the castle walls.

"Either way. What kind of people did you send to Azkaban?"

"Reprobates? Dark Wizards?" Aesop answered her as if that had been the most obvious thing in the entire world. 

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes, a teasing smile on her lips. 

"Right. One time my partner and I helped cease the operations of an illegal freak show. The woman who ran the whole thing imprisoned and trafficked multiple of her 'curiosities'. Assaulted quite a few herself."

"And she ended up in Azkaban?" 

"Yes," Aesop confirmed, "Died there too."

"Ugh," she pulled a sorrowful face, "What an awful place to die. So cold and frightening." 

Aesop's eyebrows shot up in question at that.

"And pray tell how do you know what the inside of Azkaban is like?"

"That, my dear Aesop," she grinned at him, "Is a story for another time." 

When he found out that Helen Thistlewood had essentially dragged her to Azkaban and she had consequently solved a cold case, he didn't know whether to scream or cry or laugh or perhaps all together. Of course, she fucking had. 

The weeks continued like that, and Aesop found that the days he spent with her were days very well spent. His mood usually improved drastically, perhaps to the point where even his students could tell. What was worse, though, was that his colleagues, the nosy little bastards, could tell too. So in hindsight, it likely shouldn't have surprised him when both Dinah and Eleazar suddenly had "endless amounts of essays to grade", and both Aesop and (Y/N) found themselves patrolling the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower on a late November night. 

"I have to say, walking these halls after curfew isn't nearly as fun when you're a Professor," (Y/N) broke the silence after a while. 

"And how often did you break curfew, Miss (Y/L/N)?" 

"I am friends with Sebastian Sallow," she countered, "You take a guess." 

"I forgot how much trouble that boy was," Aesop groaned. 

Of course, he remembered. Aside from the horrors that used to be Solomon Sallow (who had died under incredibly conspicuous circumstances a few years back), his nephew had been quite the pain in Aesop's arse too. Sebastian and Anne Sallow were both exceedingly mischievous, pulling many (albeit harmless) pranks on their fellow students, breaking curfew, and Aesop had to brew hair regrowth potion on more than one occasion after they had illegally attempted fire spells on their own. The shenanigans did not stop after Miss Sallow had been cursed; if anything, they had continued with newfound vigour, and Sebastian was routinely caught in the Restricted Section. He had calmed down a little when (Y/N) had come to the school, and his sour mood had improved significantly. At one point, Aesop had thought that the two were courting, but the lovely woman next to him quickly assured him that there had never been any such feelings between them. It seemed like she simply had that effect on people.

"Oh, come on!" she whined cutely. "Don't tell me you've never broken curfew."

"Me? Never. I was the very picture of orderly conduct at Hogwarts."

The witch next to him only snorted. "I find that hard to believe." 

"And you would be correct," Aesop jested, a wolfish grin on his face. He had broken countless rules during his time (though certainly not as many as she had), but unlike the Sallow boy, he had been smart enough to not get caught. At least not as frequently.

"I kne-" her words were cut off as she suddenly slipped at the top of the stairs, her feet just a little too close to the edge. 

Aesop hastily steadied himself, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her into him ignoring her cries of surprise. She held onto the lapel of his coat, staring into his dark brown eyes with her wide ones, her cheeks suddenly a little more rosy as they tumbled a little. Aesop's eyes traced over her face, from the long lashes to the soft curve of her slightly open lips. His treacherous heart sped up the more he got lost in her captivating eyes, the very window to her soul, and all he wanted to do was dive in. Suddenly having her close didn't seem like it was enough - he wanted to be absorbed in her cosmos until he had unravelled each and every mystery it held, but before he could, his mind kicked into overdrive, and he pulled her away from the ledge.

"Are you alright?" he questioned breathlessly.

"Yes," she nearly squeaked, abruptly removing her hands as if he had burned her, avoiding his gaze as she took a steadying breath. "I'm fine." 

He wanted, needed, to say something else. To reach out to her and pull her back into his arms, but before he could, she turned away to resume their nightly patrol, refusing to meet his eye again.

Things were oddly different after that night - and Aesop did not know why.

It was downright infuriating, especially since she liked to act as if nothing was amiss, but did she genuinely think she could fool a former Auror, of all people? Aesop might have left the field a decade ago, but he, all puns intended, was as sharp as ever. 

She still sat beside him during meal times, but her stories became less and less until they eventually ceased altogether.

She still came to his quarters, though the visits became scarce until she muttered a pitiful excuse of "lots of grading to do" as if they hadn't done that together over the course of the term. And if ever he turned up on her doorstep, she usually had an excuse too or ensured their time together was as brief as possible. 

And while she still kept bringing him the exotic ingredients Poppy sent her way, she typically delivered them by owl, which riled Aesop up so much that he hadn't even wanted to try and brew any possible cure in quite some time. 

And worst of all? He didn't even understand why her sudden indifference suddenly infuriated him so much. She was a good friend - yes a very good one indeed. She was an exceptional conversationalist - also, yes. And she was breathtakingly beauti - Aesop stopped himself in an instant. Absolutely not. 

He sighed in frustration, ignoring the curious stares of his fourth-year students as they, per usual, royally fucked up another potion. He didn't even recall what he had them brew, his mind a little too occupied with something - or rather someone - else. It was a loud 'BANG' that suddenly drew him from his thoughts, a colourful explosion from the back of the classroom that shone in a cacophony of various shades entering his field of vision. A sheepish Elizabeth Larson, younger sister of Andrew Larson and what Aesop wholeheartedly believed to be Garreth Weasley's spiritual successor, stood right next to the exploded cauldron, a tactless grin on her face as she ignored the dregs of whatever potion she had 'creatively enhanced' at her feet. She wasn't sorry; students like Garreth and her never were. If anything, they were only sorry that their concoction had failed and they had been caught. Furiously, Aesop rose to his feet, his leg aggravated and his mood so sour a lemon likely would have been sweet. The mess had been cleared up with a quick wave of his wand, but his fury hadn't dissipated in the slightest.

"Miss Larson," Aesop barked angrily as he stalked towards the back of the room, his glare pointed enough to explode another cauldron if he tried. "This is the seventh time you have acted outside of instruction. One would think your boneheadedness knows some bounds, but clearly, it does not." His tone was unusually cruel, the surprise of which evident on Elizabeth Larson's face as, while he was stern, he never insulted his students. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, and I want to see you for detention every day the following week!"

"But Sir, I-" the poor girl tried to protest feebly, her voice small, and if Aesop hadn't been as angry as he had been, he likely would've seen actual regret and tears in her eyes. 

"No. I am done with your infantile deeds, Miss Larson. Either you learn to respect this class and its rules, or you can expect to not make the roster for any year after next year." He was positively seething.

"Yes, Sir," she dejectedly nodded, her shoulders slumped and gaze downcast.

Aesop huffed, turning to the rest of the class, ready to dismiss them early, as he frankly did not have the resilience to endure much longer. "Uh, Sir?" a meek voice spoke into the otherwise deadly silent classroom. 

"Yes, Mister Finnigan?" Aesop grunted. 

"It's Christmas next week. We don't uhm...have school." 

It's Christmas next week... Aesop grit his teeth as he took the boy's word in, clearly an attempt to get Miss Larson out of detention. Great, so he had teenage lovers in this class? Nobody would have been stupid enough to stand up to him otherwise. 

"Then Miss Larson will serve her detention after the New Year. Now, I want your potions labelled on my desk within five minutes. And then get out of my classroom." 

None of them needed any further instruction, hurriedly finishing up whatever work they had left to do before they all but fled the dungeons, Miss Larson surrounded by her friends in an effort to comfort. At least that's what Aesop supposed.

It's Christmas next week, the words repeated in Aesop's head as he cleaned up the classroom, thankful that the day was finally over and he wouldn't have to deal with the imbeciles he calls his students until the morrow. He perked up when he thought of it again. It's Christmas next week.

Of course! Between classes to be held, essays and tests to be graded and an infuriatingly witchy problem, Aesop had all but forgotten the festivities that rapidly approached them, but suddenly, they seemed to be the answer to his very problem. If she was angry with him, perhaps a gift could put him back into her good graces and even if she wasn't, giving her a gift seemed like a perfect opportunity to have her talk to him again.

Finding a gift, however, seemed to be just as infuriating as she was. 

It was the day before Christmas, and Aesop still hadn't figured out the perfect gift to give her. Books, even if she enjoyed them greatly, seemed boring and downright unoriginal. Household items were pretentious, and he felt as if he was overstepping multiple boundaries by even thinking about it. And whilst he would have loved to have gotten her Jewellery, given that she recently rehabilitated a Niffler, he threw that option off the Astronomy tower. So what exactly was he supposed to get a witch that could end the world with her powers and one he had utterly fallen in love with? Asking her was out of the question, but he was slowly running out of time. Businesses would be closing sooner tomorrow and not open at all on the 25th, and his options were dwindling, none of them good enough for someone as exceptional as her. Aesop hated asking for help, but in fear of making an even bigger fool of himself, he trudged down the stairs of the Faculty Tower, striding up to the door of the one place where he might just acquire an answer.

"Aesop?" the surprise in Eleazar's voice was evident. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" 

"Good morning, Eleazar," Aesop cleared his throat, already regretting his decision to come. "I... require your help with a...rather delicate matter." 

"Oh?" This was most unusual for him. Eleazar and Aesop rarely interacted on the basis of their job alone, though they did strike up friendly conversation when time allowed it. And, as Aesop painfully remembers, the man had asked for his help years ago when (Y/N) had battled an entire goblin rebellion on her own, and he had dismissed the idea of Ranrok working with Rookwood as 'inconceivable'. He wondered if he could've eased the weight on her shoulders if only he had listened. 

"Would you like to come in?" Eleazar offered, stepping aside as he recognised the ex-Auror's discomfort at discussing whatever he needed to discuss out in the open. Aesop only nodded curtly, stepping inside the disorderly room littered with a million books, effectively turning it into more of a library than a personal home.

"So," the older man joined his hands in front of him. "What can I do for you, Aesop?"

"I need to purchase a present," he pressed out. "For (Y/N)."

Eleazar raised his eyebrow, taking in the usually stern Potions Master standing before him. But this man wasn't stern, nor was he anything like he usually had been. No, this man resembled a lovesick teenager, ashamed to ask a parent for advice no matter how innocent and if Aesop had blushed, it wouldn't have surprised Eleazar.

"For (Y/N)?" he repeated slowly, carefully gauging Aesop's reaction.

"Yes," the man confirmed, clearing his throat.

"It is Christmas tomorrow, and I wish to get her something nice. I thought since you knew her best, perhaps you could... offer some advice." 

Merlin's Beard, Dinah had been correct. Eleazar could not believe it. He was wholeheartedly gobsmacked. Aesop Sharp was in love with his former protégé slash adopted daughter. He had already been curious when Dinah had insisted that Aesop be the one to take her home the night of her inaugural celebration, but even more so when the woman had insisted that both he and her forfeit their nightly patrol with some lame excuse so that (Y/N) and Aesop would have to do it instead. He had frankly laughed when Dinah explained that she was doing it because she couldn't stand the pining between the two 'oblivious fools' but Merlin - when (Y/N) and he shared tea just shortly after, and the girl had blushed like a madwoman when Eleazar teased her by revealing Dinah's plans he realised that the astute Professor had certainly been right about one thing; that (Y/N) was in love.

But to know Aesop was too? Brilliant. 

"Of course," Eleazar repressed a chuckle, though he couldn't stop a sly grin forming on his face. "She is exceptionally fond of ballet. She used to see performances all the time, when she was a child in London." 

Ballet? Aesop thought, surprised. Wherever would he get something related to a Muggle art form? Clenching his teeth, he found his answer quite quickly: Muggle London. 

"Thank you," he breathed out between clenched teeth. 

"Anytime," Eleazar chuckled as Aesop swiftly exited his quarters before he rushed to tell Dinah that she was correct once again.

Off to Muggle London, he went.

Aesop positively hated the Muggle parts of London. Not because he hated Muggles, Merlin he couldn't care less about them if he tried, but because the streets were too crowded and dirty and the Muggles stared at him no matter how well disguised and because it all smelled utterly rotten. In all honesty, perhaps it was London that he hated, even if the wizarding parts of it were a little less seedy than the rest. Years ago, when he was a young Auror, he loved the hustle and bustle of the city, gallivanting around like he owned the place with a stunning woman (though not as lovely as (Y/N), his ex-fiancé, on his arm, but those days had long passed, and he preferred the quiet countryside and the fresh air and spending time with her.

He wasn't even entirely certain what exactly he was looking for, but it couldn't be that difficult to find something related to ballet. Perhaps tickets for a performance? Though most pureblood families ensured to stay away from Muggles as best as they could, they did enjoy Muggle arts on occasion; both Ballet and Opera performances were frequented by even the most extremist of pureblood families, and Aesop used to enjoy the odd art exhibition in his days. He hadn't ever been to a ballet performance in particular, but he could endure, especially if it had been for her. 

He decided on tickets for a premiere, Swan Lake, or whatever it had been called. Apparently, the ballet had been all the rage in Russia, and a company was bringing it to England for the very first time. He could be certain that his lovely colleague hadn't seen it, and the image of pure joy he had conjured in his mind was worth the insane galleon he had spent on them.

His step was considerably lighter and jovial when he made the trek towards her hut on Christmas morning, hoping, wishing that she would love her present and all would be well again. She looked surprised to see him, with a smile on his face nonetheless. 

"Aesop? What are you doing here?"

"It's Christmas, isn't it?" he grinned, excited for the first time in his life to give a present. "I wanted to give you a present."

"You got me a present?" she suddenly sounded excited, her eyes lighting up in almost childlike wonder. His heart jumped as he watched a smile light up her entire face, dazzlingly bright and beautiful and so very her. However had he survived hardly seeing it over these past few weeks? He needed, craved, more.

"Of course," Aesop cleared his throat, suppressing any potentially inappropriate thoughts. He couldn't allow himself to feel it. "We're friends, aren't we?" 

He missed the brief flash of hurt that swept across her face, accepting her silent invitation to join her inside before he was enveloped in the homely scent that brought him back to his childhood. Her home had been decorated with tinsel, and ivy leaves sewn onto strips of ribbon, some odd mistletoes hung around, and a wreath had been placed on the table. It smelled oddly reminiscent of speculoos and oranges, the sweet notes of honey and cinnamon biscuits hanging in the air, so very unlike his room back at the castle. The fire was crackling away, and the room was comfortably warm, so Aesop took the liberty of removing his coat and placing it onto one of her mismatched chairs, but not before he pulled a small, golden box from its pockets.

"I might have outdone myself," he grinned, holing out the present like a little boy.

"Think that highly of your present-giving skills, do you?" she jabbed back, accepting the box from his hands with a grateful smile. She was curious, to say the least. Aesop didn't seem like the gift-giving type in her eyes. Admittedly, she hadn't even expected one in the first place, not after she had all but avoided his presence to the best of her abilities ever since that fateful November night.

"I'm excellent at many things." "I'm sure you are."

They smiled at each other before the woman in front of him redirected her attention to the box in her hands as she carefully slid it open, revealing a glittering, crystal Swan ornament. 

"Godric's heart," she gasped as she pulled it out, observing the way it shimmered and glittered in the morning light, its reflections casting various shapes across the room. "It's beautiful, Aesop." 

"I'm glad you like it," he grinned. "But it's only a part of your present." 

She looked at him with surprise, her mouth slightly open, and he wanted to kiss he wanted to laugh as he picked up on the evident bewilderment in her eyes. "This isn't my present?"

"Not exactly. I..." Suddenly he was nervous, wondering if he had picked the right thing. What if she didn't wish to be seen with him in public, especially outside school, and clearly unrelated to work? She had been avoiding him, after all, no matter what she tried to make him believe. 

No going back now...

"I got us tickets for Swan Lake. In London." 

The astonishment on her face was comical. If there had to be an illustration of the expression "the jaw was on the floor", Aesop was sure that this would have been it. She didn't say anything for a while, only looking at him with her wide eyes, not even blinking. 

"That's..." (Y/N) cleared her throat. "That's too much, Aesop. I can't accept it." 

"Bollocks," he dismissed her. "You love ballet, don't you?"

"I...I do," she conceded, though her brow furrowed. She hadn't ever told him that, had she? "I must confess I wonder why you, of all people, know about this."

"I have my ways," he tried to dismiss her, apprehensive at the prospect of her finding out that he had asked Eleazar for advice. Unfortunately for him, though, the witch was keenly astute and analytical. 

"Eleazar told you, didn't he?" she concluded after a few seconds, horrified when he nodded. Eleazar knew her exceptionally well; he was like her father, for Merlin's sake. So even when she had told him that Aesop was 'just a friend', he didn't even try to suppress his laugh, evidently not believing a word she said. She had only hoped that the older man hadn't alluded to anything because Aesop could never know that she had irrevocably fallen in love with him. 

"Thank you, Aesop. Truly. This is the best present I have ever received," she earnestly told him, quickly covering up her embarrassment. "I admit, my gifts truthfully don't compare to this, but..."

She only sighed, deciding to simply get it over with. She didn't recognise the excitement on Aesop's face. She had gotten him something too? 

Swiftly she summoned two boxes from their hiding place across the room, offering him the first one with an ashamed smile. "I'm afraid it's no Swan Lake, but..."

"I don't want Swan Lake," Aesop quickly interjected, opening the green box. "I want – a blanket?"

"It's a scarf," she quickly corrected him, her cheeks flushed. 

"A scarf," he mumbled, pulling the soft maroon fabric from the box. It was the most delicate material Aesop had ever felt, luxurious too, even if the pattern was slightly off and the edges seemed slightly frayed. He wrapped it around his neck, catching a whiff of that same homely scent that made his heart grow fonder. 

"I made it myself," she nervously admitted, gauging his reaction though his face was fairly impassive. "I haven't made one in a while, but it's been a tradition in my family to always give two gifts; one that is handmade and one that is bought and usually a necessity." 

"Thank you," he breathed out, enjoying the comforting feel of the fabric around his neck. 

"It's no Swan Lake –" "–I don't want Swan Lake," he interrupted her again, his voice a little rougher than he wished to. "I want this scarf." 

And he did. It was perfect, especially because it had been made by her delicate hands, and he never wanted to take it off again. How could she think that he would hate this?!

"Right," she mumbled before handing him a second box. "I hope you like this just as much."

The second box was also green, though slightly larger than the box with the scarf and Aesop was intrigued, if admittedly a little guilty that she had gotten him two presents in place of only one. He opened the box to reveal –

"Charcoal?" he had already been confused at the scarf, but why on earth would she give him charcoal? He watched as she nervously wrung her hands before her, avoiding his gaze as she had done all those weeks, a bright flush on her cheeks. 

"I –," she audibly gulped, clearly afraid of his reaction. "I may have snuck into your room in fifth year and found your... art room."  

Whatever explanation he had expected, it certainly wouldn't have been this. He should have been furious, and if she had been a student, he likely would have taken so many house points from her that her house wouldn't have recovered for years to come. Instead, he laughed.

Of course, she had snuck into his room. Of course, she had found his art room. Of course, she remembered it.

What a devious little thing she was. 

The winter break passed in a calm manner, and Aesop was utterly content. 

While (Y/N) still seemed somewhat reclusive, she didn't avoid his presence - a win in Aesop's mind. They had tea together again, and she had even assisted him in brewing yet another potion, even if that one hadn't helped to any greater extent. His mood had improved drastically, so much that he even apologised to Miss Larson for his harsh tone in the new year and cut her detention time short (though not forfeit it altogether). The girl was confused but obviously didn't question it any further, quite happy that she only had to spend two nights in detention instead of five.  

If his colleagues noticed his new and improved mood, they at least had the decency not to comment on it, even if he caught Dinah and Eleazar throwing him and (Y/N) conspicuous glances every once in a while when they believed he wouldn't notice. He was in far too good of a mood to comment on it, not even irked by it in the slightest. 

The day before their planned 'excursion' outside the palace walls, a Saturday, Aesop walked into breakfast a little later than usual, his sleep unusually restful. His favourite colleague was already seated at the table, animatedly chatting with Matilda as they finished up their breakfast. 

"Mornin'," Aesop mumbled as he sat down next to (Y/N), grabbing the teapot and helping himself to a cup of Earl Grey. 

"I still don't know how you can drink Earl Grey without sugar or milk," the young woman beside him grimaced. She typically had her tea with both, the brew always a perfectly creamy colour that was far too much milk for Aesop's liking. 

"I can't understand how you can essentially drink sweetened milk," he jabbed back, grabbing a bread roll and putting some eggs and sausages on his plate. 

"It's not sweetened milk," she pouted.

"Well, it's certainly not tea." 

Matilda snorted as she watched the two of them interact, slowly starting to understand what Dinah and Eleazar had reported to be seeing. It was no secret among the staff that Aesop had a... soft spot for their newest colleague (if his much-improved mood had been anything to go by), nor had it been a secret that the two of them spent a great deal of time together outside of the necessary interactions. But as the two looked into each other's eyes, the very picture of devotion and adoration, she realised they were obtusely pining for each other. Merlin, if this really was the state of things, Matilda might join Eleazar and Dinah in their efforts. 

"Something funny, Matilda?" Aesop asked her with a raised brow. 

"Oh no," the Transfiguration teacher shook her head, sipping on her tea. "Nothing funny at all."

"Right," he grumbled, clearly unimpressed, before he continued his breakfast. 

"Well, then," (Y/N) smiled, pushing back her chair and standing up. It was then that Aesop noticed that she looked...different. Her usually simple dress had been traded in for a much nicer one. It was moss green, lined with fur to keep her warm from the icy temperatures outside and had some intricate gold stitching that almost shimmered in the sunlight. "I still have to collect my coat. I'll see you tonight, Matilda."

"Oh, do tell Garreth I said hello."

Aesop nearly spat out his drink. Garreth? As in Garreth Weasley? The ultimate headache of a boy, the same young man whose existence had tortured Aesop for seven bloody years? Why on earth would she –

"Will do, Matilda," she singsonged before skipping outside the Great Hall, and Aesop was left with a million questions in his head. Matilda watched as Aesop's jaw was unnaturally clenched, his eggs picked up with strange aggression that hadn't been there before. Surely Garreth's name couldn't have riled him up that much?

"They're having a small reunion in the Three Broomsticks," Matilda spoke into the tense silence. "I heard Mr Sallow, Mr Thakkar, Miss Reyes and some others would be attending too."

"And that is of interest to me how?" 

"You tell me," Matilda winked, chuckling as she watched the Potions Master hastily swallow the last of his breakfast before he excused himself to 'do some brewing', limping out of the Great Hall.

"I don't think I've ever seen Aesop being so obvious about his feelings," someone chuckled to the right of her. Matilda looked over to see a grinning Abraham looking at her. 

"It is strange to see; I won't lie," Matilda nodded. "Quite the unlikely pairing too."

"The girl was a Hero at fifteen and has ensured that entire poaching operations have ceased in the Highlands," Abraham reminded her with a chuckle. "Just because she is less grumpy than him, I wouldn't write them off. After all, opposites do attract, no?"

"I suppose you are correct," the Transfiguration teacher agreed. "The question is, how exactly do we make them see it? It seems everyone, but them knows."

"Which I told you months ago, you bloody lot," Dinah jumped in from next to Abraham. "Merlin knows Eleazar, and I have tried to talk sense into them. He is too thick-headed to make the first move; that much is certain." 

"I would not worry," a final voice joined them, the ever-elusive Mudiwa Onai looking at them with twinkling eyes. "I could see that their future together would be quite...fruitful."

(Y/N), unaware of her coworkers conspiring against her and blissfully unaware of the Potions Master she had left completely riled up, was rather looking forward to seeing her old classmates again. Even if she had spent significantly less time with them than she might have liked, largely because of her late arrival and fifth-year 'extracurriculars', many of them had become close friends of hers, and she kept in contact with most of them. Poppy, unfortunately, would not be able to make it, as she was somewhere in the Amazonas researching yet another creature, but she looked forward to seeing her during the summer. She hadn't seen most of them in quite some time, though letters between them were still largely regular.

The Three Broomsticks was as warm and inviting as ever, the establishment always having been a place of comfort and safety, especially after Sirona had fearlessly stood up against Victor Rookwod and Theophilus Harlow as they had tried to kidnap her for Ranrok and his plans. Natty was the first to spot her old friend, having them over enthusiastically. Quite a few of them had shown up; Garreth Weasley, Imelda Reyes and Nelly Oggspire, Nerida Roberts, Amit Thakkar, Ominis, hell, even Everett Clopton and Leander Prewett had made time to come with their wives, simply to get together again. The large group chatted animatedly, exchanging stories about their careers and lives. 

Unsurprisingly, Garreth had started an apprenticeship under a potioneer in London, whereas Imelda and Nelly were both on the Puddlemere United Team, happily courting and enjoying life, whereas Nerida had realised her dream of becoming a Liasion for the Mermaids ("I even learned how to swim!"). Amit had relocated to India for a while, researching the stars on behalf of the Ministry and Everett Clopton and Leander Prewett both had somewhat stable careers at the Ministry. Ominis, on the other hand, had become an apprentice at a French Wandmaker's shop, fully distancing himself from his family and all that the Gaunt name entailed. And Natty, ever the Gryffindor, was slowly but surely working her way up in the Auror Office (much to her mother's chagrin). The final one, who had yet to join the group, was fashionably late and none other than Sebastian Sallow himself.

The Curse Breaker in question walked in around lunchtime, and they were all more than surprised when he was accompanied by a woman their age, clearly pregnant, and beaming smiles on their faces.

"Sorry, everyone," the man sheepishly excused himself, arm wrapped around the woman's middle with his large hands. "I returned from Romania last night, and the Ministry wanted me to drop off some reports. Took a little longer than expected." "Yeah, yeah, blah blah," Garreth waved him off, "Now who is that?" 

Garreth asked the question everyone had been dying to know, and (Y/N) eyed the woman beside her close friend with curious but kind eyes. She was definitely around their age, quite petite and pale, her long ginger hair in an intricate braid, with a few pieces framing her oval, freckled face and strikingly blue eyes. She blushed as the attention diverted to her, though her smile was still beaming. 

"This is Megan," Sebastian introduced them with a bright smile. "My wife." 

"WIFE?!" 

The reaction was immediate, the group gaping at the apparently married couple in front of them, waiting to hear just about any explanation for... well. Megan, apparently, was a witch from Ireland who had eventually attended Illvermorny as her father was relocated from the British Ministry of Magic to the MACUSA, and the two had met on one of Sebastian's curse-breaking expeditions. Sebastian, the ever-rational man he was, married her rather quickly and privately before he whisked her back to England and settled down with her in the Cotswolds. To say that especially Ominis and (Y/N) were affronted that their friend hadn't even mentioned his wife, let alone the fact that he was going to be a father soon, in any of his letters was the understatement of the year, but Sebastian placated them with some Firewhiskey and a heartfelt apology, explaining that he wanted Megan to get settled before bombarding her with the 'bloody lot they were'.  

Megan was lovely, (Y/N) had to admit. A little shy, perhaps, but lovely nonetheless, and she had a great snark about her as she continued to open up to the group and the antics throughout the day. They laughed and ate, having far too much fun and far too little time before a majority of them were drunk off their asses and started to dance in their corner of the pub, absorbed in their own world and free of their adult responsibilities for just one day.

It was perhaps exactly why any of them failed to notice their old Potions Professor walking into the Three Broomsticks after the man had begrudgingly spent the afternoon brewing some odd potions before he realised that he was all out of Bicorn horn, thus needing to venture into Hogsmeade to order some from Pippin. Aesop hadn't planned his short foray into the village, so when he spontaneously decided to walk into the Three Broomsticks to drink a firewhiskey, he hadn't expected to see (Y/N) in the arms of Garreth fucking Weasley, happily dancing to some music and looking the very picture of beauty and grace. 

It shouldn't have bothered him. It shouldn't have bothered him at all, but when he saw her so beautiful in the arms of another, all he could see was red as his heart audibly shattered inside his chest, his lungs constricting as he watched her do something he could never give her. He quickly retreated from the Three Broomsticks, not even bothering to order a Firewhiskey. Instead, he chose to hole himself up in his room, getting drunk there instead as he moped around.

Why was he even bothered? She didn't owe him anything, certainly not a dance or physical affection. She was a friend, a good friend. Nothing more, nothing less. It shouldn't have hurt to see her in the arms of someone else, even if that person had been Garreth Weasley, of all people. He should have been happy for her - she did say she wanted a family, children, and someone her age could certainly give her that. He was just an old, grumpy, crippled failure of a man, his best years long gone. It shouldn't have bothered him, but the more he thought about it, the more it did. 

Fuck, he realised startingly as he downed his third glass of firewhiskey. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

It bothered him because he cared. 

Because – Aesop could hardly bring himself to think it – because he was stupidly, irrevocably, utterly and wholly in love with her. 

Aesop wasn't sure how many he had to drink by the time a knock sounded on his door. He cursed his own tolerance, not nearly drunk enough to forget what he had just barely been able to admit to himself. If anything, he might have been slightly buzzed. The only person that would ever come knocking on his door, he realised, was the one person he very much wanted to avoid right now. Before he could call out a 'No', the doors opened, and she walked right in, a tray filled with his favourite foods in her hand and that damningly beautiful smile on her smile. Why in Salazar's name was she so ethereal?

"I didn't see you at dinner and got worried. So I asked the house-elf's for some of your favourites, and they were kind enough to prepare them."

Aesop's dark eyes swept over the tray, spotting roast beef, his favourite vegetables, a cornish pie and even some sticky toffee pudding. It was perfect, and it only infuriated him more. Couldn't she have ignored him? Or at least treat him unkindly? That would have helped his feelings much more than being cared for by the one person who shouldn't. 

"Thanks," he hissed lowly, downing yet another firewhiskey. "Can you just leave it here?" 

Her smile vanished, regarding him, with a concerned look on her face. 

Why on earth did she have to wear her heart on her sleeve?! Why did she have to show him she cared about him?!

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." No – he definitely wasn't.

"You don't look like you're alright," she pushed on, carefully placing the tray on his table and walking towards him.

"I'm fine," he pressed out, glaring her way, but she didn't even flinch. "Can you please go?"

"Now I know you're not alright," she smiled, "You've never asked me to leave." 

"Well, now I do," he snapped, unwilling to deal with it any longer. 

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Yes. "No," he sighed dejectedly. It wasn't her fault, not really. 

"Right," she drew out, clearly not believing him but choosing to save him from further mortification. An uncomfortable silence hung over them, Aesop just wishing that she would finally leave. Eventually, she sighed, turning around to leave his room and leave him alone, but not until she turned around one last time and smiled again.

"I can't wait for Swan Lake tomorrow."

Fuck, he thought once more. Swan Lake would be utter torture. With that, she left.

Aesop hadn't dreaded anything for a while now, but when he stood in front of her hut the next day, late in the afternoon, dressed in his best suit, he dreaded every second that would follow. He just had to get through this, he reminded himself. Just this, and he could be the one to avoid her. He was the one who gifted her this in the first place, and so he would have to endure it. Unfortunately, though, he hadn't expected her to look as good as she did. When she opened the door, with her big smile and bright eyes, Aesop wished that Scarborough had killed him. This was pure torture. She looked delectable and absolutely ethereal. Her dress was a silky pink colour with an almost scandalously low neckline (Merlin, was she trying to kill him?!), appropriately trimmed with gold stitching, soft lace around the shoulders and arms and a white ermine cape around her shoulders. Her hair was up and out from her face, curled and pinned to perfection, making her eyes shine even more than usual. 

Well, this is going to be a problem, isn't it?

"You look bewitchingly beautiful," Aesop whispered, relishing in the blush that rose on her cheeks. At least he could tease her a little, too - he wasn't sure if he could survive this otherwise. 

"You don't look so shabby yourself," she cleared her throat, swiftly joining him outside. Like a true gentleman, he offered her his arm, walking the short distance to the outside of the ground before he apparated them into a secluded alleyway in London, only a short distance from the Opera House. He hadn't held her this close since the night at the Three Broomsticks, but the warmth she emitted and the scent she carried both comforted and strangled him. She was oh so close, yet not close enough. He could only fondly smile at her when she entered the place like an excited child faced with all the candy they could ever want. 

"Oh, I haven't been here forever. It's still as beautiful as I remember!" 

Aesop wouldn't lie; the place was thoroughly impressive. The high ceilings shone under the million candles and crystals, illuminating the site in a comforting way. The high arches and intricate design gave the place a neo-classical feel, and it was bustling with Muggles of various ages, though, as swiftly became clear to him, most of them were likely obscenely rich. Thankfully, they hardly paid him and the beautiful woman on his arm any mind, a rarity and a crime in Aesop's mind, for he couldn't stop staring at her. 

"Do you think that –"

"(Y/N)?!" a shocked voice sounded from behind them. He watched as the woman on his arm visibly paled, almost shaking in his hold as she turned around and faced the man that had spoken to her. Aesop turned around, too, wondering what could make the literal Hero of Hogwarts, a woman with world-ending ancient magic, so frightened. They came to face with an elderly man, possibly around Eleazar's age, and a slightly younger woman. The closer Aesop looked at her, the sooner he spotted it; she had her eyes, her nose, her lips, hell, even her hair, though the other woman's was visibly fading into white. Her parents, Aesop thought, surprised. What were the odds?

"(Y/N) is that truly you?" the man asked, stepping closer, and Aesop felt the need to take a small step forward, effectively shielding her from their gazes. 

"Evening, Father," she mumbled, and Aesop loathed how demure she sounded. Was she an innocent and sweet woman? Yes. Demure? No. She was a fighter who didn't back down against various beasts, poachers, and goblins. And this man was scaring her? Not on Aesop's watch. 

"You look well," she added after a while, though it sounded awfully strange and forced. Her mother at least had the decency to look ashamed, and Aesop could name a thousand reasons why as he glared at them. Her father, however, had flickered his gaze over to Aesop and was regarding him with newfound interest. He knew that her parents were wealthy, but the people in front of him were nothing short of gaudy, pompous and carried a sneer as arrogant as the one on Black's face. These people had raised her? His lovely woman that emitted so much warmth and comfort that it could kill several Dementors? 

"Thank you," her father said after a few seconds, though his eyes were firmly trained on Aesop – and his gigantic scar. "You have grown up beautifully." 

Aesop had never wanted to strangle someone as badly as this man. The sheer audacity. Was he right? Absolutely. Did he have the right? Absolutely not.

"And who is this, might I ask?" 

She tensed beside him, and Aesop wondered why for a second before he remembered one of their earliest conversations. If her parents hadn't approved of a co-educational school, they surely wouldn't have approved of her spending time with a man she was not married to.

"He's my –" "I'm her husband," Aesop interjected, eyebrow raised as he regarded the people before him with as much of a sneer as he could muster. Fight fire with fire, Aesop thought deviously. 

"Husband?" her mother suddenly spoke up, a look of surprise on her face. 

"Is there a problem?" Aesop asked, his tone menacing. It didn't impress her father one bit. 

"So you actually managed to find a decent husband?" he sneered, looking back at his daughter for a fleeting second before returning his attention to Aesop. "Consider me surprised that a man would marry a dishonoured woman. Though perhaps the market was too slim for a cripple."

"Father!" "Listen here, Mr. (Y/L/N)," Aesop growled as he stepped as close to the man as he possibly could, not wanting to cause a ruckus among all of these people. "I will not have you question my wife's honour. She is a Hero in our world, did you know that? Of course, you didn't because your arrogant, pompous ass was too vain to ever reach out to her. I cannot even begin to fathom how someone like you raised someone as wonderful as her. She nearly lost her life as she successfully stopped people so evil they would make your skin crawl from ruining our world. That said," his glare was intense enough to burn the man, "my wife's honour was perfectly intact. You wish to know why? Because our school ensures any untoward things do not happen. You could have known that before you left her for the gallows. Now, you will leave us be. And if I hear of any attempts to reach her, I will personally ensure you will burn in hell. This cripple," Aesop spat the word angrily, "knows how to make it look like an accident."

He pulled (Y/N) away without so much as a second thought, grabbing her arm and walking as fast as his damned leg would allow, hoping that her parents were seated far away from them. 

"Aesop?" his company meekly asked him as they had settled in their box. He was still heaving, his breaths coming out a little erratic as he fought the primal urge to turn around and kill a certain someone. When he finally turned to face her, he looked into her watery (Y/E/C) eyes, relieved to at least see a small smile on her lips. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully.

"Any time."

The ballet was beautiful, possibly the closest thing Aesop had ever seen to magic in the muggle world; the delicate nature of the dancers and the way they were seemingly carried by the music was enchanting. He could see why she loved it as much as he did. The greatest thing, though, was catching her smile. It was so bright and wide, and Aesop couldn't get enough. This was worth every galleon, and he would've emptied his and his family's vault to just get a single glimpse of it again. 

Her father's sperm donor's words continued to run in Aesop's mind as the two of them wordlessly made their way back, apparating and then walking the remaining distance to her hut. She, utterly content and smiling; him, revisiting what the poor excuse of a man had said to his own child nonetheless. He was correct about him; Aesop was but an old cripple, undeserving of someone like her. In some way, Aesop had accepted that he might never be whole, that his best years had long passed and that he was meant to be confined to Bachelorhood for the rest of his days. But when the woman of his dreams stood close to him, so near yet far beyond his reach, all he wished for was to be whole again. 

"Would you like to come in for some tea?" she offered as they reached her hut.

"Yes," Aesop answered without a second thought. This night was bound to end soon enough. He could be selfish for just a few more minutes, relishing in her company, before he would have to ban her from his life.

She beamed at him, the same smile that made his heart skip several beats and that had him wish he could up and kiss her. The smile that was his undoing. Her cabin was as cosy as he remembered, the same smell of fresh pastries and freshly pressed linen and something uniquely her permeating the air and enveloping him in what felt like a suffocating hug. He sat in one of her comfortable armchairs, watching as she waved her wand, her gramophone quietly filling the space with a tune Aesop didn't recognise, her kettle slowly bubbling away on her stove. 

"I want to apologise," she spoke into the silence after a while, still next to her stove as she waited for the water to boil. 

"Whatever for?" Aesop asked. 

"My...father," she sighed. 

"Well, forgive me for being forward, but it is hardly your fault that your 'father' is a raging piece of shit."

He watched as she let out a single laugh that sounded more like a scoff than anything else. "No, it is not, but that doesn't mean I don't feel sorry for what he's said to you in particular." 

"Don't be," Aesop grumbled as he averted his gaze, hoping to end the conversation right there. He didn't want her pity - that would be far worse than her rejection. "He wasn't entirely wrong."

"But he was!" Her ferocious tone surprised him, his eyes finding hers and seeing pure, unadulterated rage in them. 

"I am a cripple," Aesop slowly corrected her. "And I am well above your years."

"You are not a cripple, Aesop Sharp," she seethed at him, further surprising him. "And you are not old. Have you any idea what kind of man my father had me betrothed to? He was fifty when I was thirteen, and the betrothal was finalised."

Aesop clenched his hands into fists at her revelation, wishing to seek out her father to beat sense into him. 

"Simply because the man you were supposed to marry was even older than I was does not mean I am not old nor a cripple," Aesop pressed forth, wanting to run from this conversation, his resolve to leave her hanging by a precarious thread. 

"You are not a cripple," she repeated herself, her voice resolute. 

"I am," Aesop seethed, having risen from his position on the armchair as quickly as his leg would allow, unable to stop himself. "I am but a man whose prime had passed when I stepped into Scarborough harbour. A man who is undeserving of the wonderful woman you are and have become. Surely you must know that a woman like yourself could do far better than me." 

She gaped at him with wide eyes, a million thoughts running through her head. "A woman like me?" she asked, her voice reduced to a whisper.

"Yes, a woman like you," Aesop's resolve had finally broken, and he was incapable of telling her anything but the truth. When she inevitably hated him after this, when she inevitably rejected his sorry arse, perhaps he could move on. "A wonderful, beautiful woman like you. A woman who has given her all for this world and has expected not one thing in return. A woman who is so bloody kind and loving that even I couldn't help but be drawn in. A woman who hasn't escaped my mind, no matter how infuriating she is at times." 

"What –" she gulped audibly, her eyes still wide as she searched his. The air in the room was stagnant as neither of them refused to say anything, though Aesop could feel his heart beating out of his chest, praying to whatever god would listen to him that she would finally get it over with. "What are you saying, Aesop?" 

"Do I actually have to spell it out for you?!" he groaned exasperated, running a hand through his hair as he grew more frustrated than he thought possible. 

"Well, do not get angry with me." "I am not angry." "Well, clearly you are. Look at you." 

Aesop stalked up to her in quick strides, towering over her much smaller frame as he looked down into her eyes furiously, feebly attempting to ignore her comforting scent. "Right then," he growled. "No matter what I bloody do, you are on my mind like a damn pixie infestation. My thoughts of you simply never end. You carry my heart in your hands and do not even know it. I am yours; painfully, I am yours. But it is utterly ridiculous to think someone like you," Aesop stressed, "would ever burn for someone like me." 

Not even wishing to hear her rejection from this point forth, Aesop attempted to turn around to hastily exit her home, only to be stopped by her small hand reaching out for his. He turned back, expecting to see disgust, hate or even contempt in her eyes, but all he found were unshed tears and a look he could not read. 

"You...You care for me?" she cautiously spoke, a small (Aesop didn't believe it) hopeful smile on her face.

"I don't care for you," Aesop gulped, finally allowing himself to speak the words that likely had been on his mind since she stepped back into the bloody castle. "I burn for you."

A sob spilt from her lips, though they simultaneously widened into a smile. "Aesop Sharp," she tearfully grinned at him, "You utter fool." 

Yes, pour salt into the wound, Aesop thought dejectedly. He knew he was a fool for –

He didn't have time to finish his thoughts before the witch he had fallen in love with grabbed the lapel of his coat to pull him down, her soft, plush lips meeting his.

pt. 2 coming soon

#professor sharp #aesop sharp #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #sebastian sallow #professor fig #professor weasley #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #idiots in love #fluff #romance #smut is in part 2 #communication is key but these idiots can't find it so the door is bashed in instead #i wrote this instead of my thesis and various job applications and honestly? i have MANY regrets #i hope my mum never finds this #still can't believe i wrote this #hogwarts legacy mc #garreth weasley #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #dinah hecat #professor hecat

[leviathanspain]

my cherry

fred weasley x reader

synopsis: the yule ball is coming up, and fred still can’t find the words to ask you to be his date

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

fred weasley was your best friend. he was your rock, a star at the end of a once dark tunnel.

it wasnt a surprise when you found yourself looking at him with more fondness, feeling yourself blush whenever he was near. even his own twin brother was catching on, and it seemed like only a matter of time before fred knew.

“my cherry…” fred whispered as he sat down next to you in the common room. you were flipping through a potions study guide when the redhead pulled you from your focus.

“ma chérie.” you corrected, rolling your eyes as you flipped through the page, frustrated that you had lost your concentration.

fred shrugged, “whatever. my cherry sounds better.” he hummed softly and you looked at him, “what do you want?” he normally didn’t linger when you were clearly busy. he obviously had something on his mind.

fred was nervous. he looked at you and smiled softly before he opened his mouth, “y/n, i was wondering if you- would uh-“

the doors of the common room burst open and in poured a column of random students. you and fred both turned to see buck harpis headlining the group. the golden boy from ravenclaw, it was a surprise to see him so dapper in the gryffindor common room. he was holding a huge bouquet of roses and various other flowers, a baggie of chocolate frogs, and a stack of books with a ribbon on it.

you stood up and blushed immediately as you realized buck was here for you.

the crowd of students were his support as buck bowed to you, a huge smile on his face, “darling y/n. my dazzling star in potions, the one who keeps me on my toes during quidditch games, and the only girl i would share my chocolate frogs with, would you do me the honor of attending the yule ball with me?” buck presented the flowers and set the stack of books down on the end table.

the rest of your classmates looked at you as you paused, smiling shyly. you ran to embrace buck, “yes!” and cheers ensued as buck celebrayed with you.

fred felt bile rise up in his throat as he saw the overly dramatic asking to the ball. he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t utterly defeated that you had said yes. of course you did, it was buck harpis, even his sister had a crush on him.

you ran over to him after a professor had told everyone to run along now, dinner was soon.

fred couldn’t help but smile at you, trying to uphold his energy, “wow! what a-“

“i know right!” you interrupted him before he could even say anything. you took a big inhale of the flowers and set them down on the end table. you paused for a moment before you looked at fred, “what were you gonna say earlier?”

fred shook his head and waved a hand, “nothing. go eat, my cherry. i’ll be there soon.” you nodded, not completely sold but you went anyway.

hermione was already warming your seat as you rushed down to the dining hall. she was smiling wide and hugged you, “oh my! i heard. literally i heard the cheers from the library.” she laughed, and ron and harry who were across from you guys, nodded in unison.

you blushed, “yeah. well, it was very romantic.” you tried to play it cool but you felt an internal scream, and even when buck walked past the table, giving you a wave, as he sat down at the ravenclaw table, his friends clapped his back and congratulated him.

although, through your happiness at being asked to the dance, you felt disappointment that fred hadn’t asked you out. he had many chances, the yule ball was next week, so considering that you even got asked out was a bit of a surprise. but buck had mentioned that it took a while to get the books imported from france, all first editions.

george sat down next to you and began to grab food. you raised an eyebrow at the sightless fred, “where’s your brother?”

george pointed to ron and you rolled your eyes, “your twin brother.”

george stuffed a turkey leg into his mouth and shrugged, “said he wanted to clear his head.” that was enough to get you up, and you knew exactly where fred was clearing his head.

the stairs to the ravenclaw observatory winded you. being a quidditch player didn’t seem to help your stamina as fred could hear your wheeze from all the way at the top.

fred was already standing at the top step when you showed up. from the looks of his body language, he was angry.

“what’s wrong?” you asked fred, who scoffed. “what’s wrong?” he mocked your tone and shook his head, “it’s you. it’s him. it’s all wrong.” fred was practically hissing the words out.

you raised your eyebrows, “are you mad? you’re mad that buck asked me to the yule ball?” the questions astounded you. you didn’t even know that fred even cared that much.

“yes! im enraged! why did you say yes? hmm? it’s buck harpis for gods sake! we used to make fun of him during our first year!” fred was yelling now, and you felt yourself flinch slightly.

fred didn’t seem to notice as he shook his head, “i was going to ask you to go with me, before he came into the common room with his conviently cheering crowd.”

“i-“ you faltered for words, but fred shook his head, “i’m sorry that i didn’t do a grand gesture for your attention like he did. im a weasley, im sorry i cant give you what you deserve, y/n.”

you shook your head, “no, you don’t get to do this to me, fred. i- i spent years pining after you, years suffering in your shadow as you dated and paraded yourself around like a whore!” you spat out the last word and you felt your eyes brim with tears, “it’s not my fault that suddenly you figured out how you felt about me.” you stepped back and sniffled, watching fred at a loss for words you continued, “i came up here to comfort you, talk to you and be your friend. i had been so used to being just your friend that now it makes you mad when i ask what’s wrong? i don’t want any part of that if that’s how it’s going to be from now on, passive aggressive behavior. im done, weasley.” you stepped back onto the steps and even though you felt winded, you found yourself practically running down the steps.

fred was heartbroken. all he wanted to do was apologize for being so stupid. how could he be so blind? all these years of loving him and you stayed quiet? yet fred couldn’t take it for merely a day that someone else had asked you out. the immature voice in his head had said that no one had asked you out ever before, why would they now to the dance? but he was wrong, buck was just the one who got lucky.

dancing with buck was a dream, but it wasn’t your perfect dream. the perfect dream was sitting at a table with his last minute date, sulking as he tried not to be obvious to his staring at you and your date. but every so often, you’d find his eyes wandering to yours.

“i’m thirsty.” you muttered to buck and he nodded, “i’ll be back.” and he spun you off the dance floor.

you walked over to fred, who had also conviently sent his date for drinks.

“i need to talk to you.” you whispered and fred got up, reluctantly.

you grabbed fred’s hand and looked behind you as you pulled his just outside the hall.

fred raised his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes. you grabbed his face and kissed him. passionately and roughly as you had always hoped to do. fred fell into the kiss, and grabbed your hands just on top of his, his tongue melted into yours.

it got hot and heavy for a few minutes until you tore yourself off him for some air. “i’ll see you later.” you whispered.

fred gulped, “yeah, of course.” as you walked away he spun you back around, “see you later, ma chérie.” laying another kiss on you, you realized that his french was perfect, and you blushed, opening the door to the great hall.

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley fic #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley smut #hogwarts smut #hogwarts imagines #hogwarts angst

[blue--ingenue]

soft!Sebastian headcannons - part 2

Author's Note: so flattered at the response part 1 has gotten, so here's part 2! i may be projecting a bit with the adhd headcannon, but i swear that boy at least partially has it

he’s incredibly protective of you. after losing his parents, nearly losing Anne, and knowing that you defeated Ranrok alone in fifth year, he vowed to never let any harm come to you. he knows you’re more than capable of holding your own in a fight, and his overprotective streak causes a fair amount of arguing between you both, but it stems from his love for you and desire to see you safe

much of his Crossed Wands fan base consists of younger students (including Lucan) that he’s defended from bullies over the years 

absolute caffeine gremlin. drinks coffee when the house elves apparate it onto the breakfast tables, but if he can’t get his hands on a cup, he’ll settle for tea. (this is one of the reasons Earl Grey is one of the first scents you recognize while making amortentia in Potions)

usually doesn’t approve of Garreth’s ‘experiments in class’ (enjoys mischief as much as the young Weasley, but doesn’t want to jeopardize his grade), but once slipped him a few sickles to commission him for an energizing brew

knows how to braid hair, and is pretty damn good at it. Anne taught him how when they were little and he’s been doing it ever since. if MC has long hair, he’s braiding it into a neat french braid before their Crossed Wands match so that it doesn’t get in their face while fighting. some of the boys in his year with fragile masculinity scoff, but when they see half of the students in their year fawning over him. they try to learn how to braid as well

(i’m literally picturing soft Sebastian lovingly braiding MC’s hair with gentle hands before taking his place next to them and absolutely decimating their competition. the complete 180 from tender to lethal has most of the crowd swooning)

is absolutely the little spoon, but will take over as big spoon if you ask him to. whenever he’s stressed or overwhelmed from school (or the danger you often find yourselves in) he just wants to be held

has a major sweet tooth. he always has some sort of sweet with him. whether it’s a chocolate frog, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans he’s split with Ominis, or a pastry tucked away from dinner

absolutely ADORES museums. his parents used to take him and Anne to wizarding history museums as well as the natural history museum in London. seeing artifacts up close while satiating his thirst for knowledge is his personal paradise

(possibly becomes a museum researcher after graduating. something a bit daring and dangerous that lets him put his dueling skills to use in the pursuit of contributing knowledge to his field)

has some degree of adhd that influences his impulsive decisions, risk-taking behavior, and constant switching from topic to topic. has many detentions from talking while the professor is speaking or engaging in unsanctioned spell work, but it’s not his fault classes aren’t stimulating enough 

loves dueling and defense against the dark arts because he gets to engage in hands-on activities after long days of having to sit quietly and still for hours of lectures

herbology isn’t his strong suit, but one day you tell him your favorite flower and he’s determined to grow them for you. a few days later in the undercroft you notice a little self-watering potting table with a few buds poking out from the soil. there are at least five herbology books flipped open to various pages on the exact flower you mentioned with little notes scrawled in the margins

he hands you a bouquet of the flowers once they’ve grown and you swear he looks positively elated

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x y/n #fluff #soft!sebastian sallow

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Late night sweet treats

George Weasley x reader

Requested by cooki3crum8s (their account is deactivated but I’m fucking posting this anyway)

Request gist: Smut where you and George are eating desserts and he has some on his finger, leading you to lick it off and suck on his fingers.

A/N: I didn't know just how much smut you wanted, so I just went for oral. Again, i've never done a request before so if it’s terrible, my bad. I don’t really write for George (I'm more of a Fred girl, I just did those F+G fics cause I had the idea) but I'm willing to write this and write any more if they are requested. I also went for Goblet of Fire George, just because I thought it might go better.

T/W: Oral (male receiving), finger sucking, deep throating, praise and degradation

The crackling fire cast a dim orange glow across you and George as you both sat on the sofa in the empty common room in the early hours of the morning. It was George's bright idea to sneak down to the kitchen, avoiding various teachers and Filch, just to snag a few jam tarts that were left over from dessert. ‘A midnight feast’ he called it, to celebrate the completion of the first task in the Triwizard tournament (in reality, it was George's excuse to combine his three favourite things: sneaking out, sweet treats, and you).

That was how you came to be sat here with a small pile of jam tarts and George telling you about how brilliant it was when the dragon's tail smashed through the teachers viewing box. The common room was still a bit messy from the small celebration that was thrown for Harry. As George kept rambling about the dragon, you slowly zoned out, eyes focused on the small dollop of strawberry jam on his finger.

He snapped his fingers in front of your eyes when he noticed you were staring and smirked at how your eyes still remained trained on his fingers.

“Oi, love, earth to Y/n” George spoke softly before deciding to have some fun with this.

He raised his hand, your eyes followed.

He lowered his hand, your eyes followed.

He waved his hand slowly from left to right, and your eyes still followed.

Your light grasp on his wrist made him chuckle, pulling it closer to your face. You opened your mouth, welcoming his finger into your mouth before closing your lips. You gently sucked, licking the jam from his finger and enjoying the feeling of having some sort of closeness to him, although he was sitting right next to you. Your eyes never left his. His lip was between his teeth and his eyes slowly filled with lust and amusement. His trousers slowly became tighter, his cock getting harder as he watched you suck his finger.

“Such a little minx, aren't you? You wanna suck on something else or are you happy with my finger? Little slut” George’s taunt about taking something else into your mouth had your eyes lighting up in excitement, nodding eagerly with his finger still in his mouth. “Please Georgie” you begged softly, his finger slightly muffling you.

George smirked and stood up from his space beside you, pulling his finger (and a small whine) from your mouth. He slowly unzipped his trousers and pulled them down, slowing his movements down to wind you up.

His cock was already hard when he pulled it from his boxers. With one hand on his base and the other tangling in your hair, he guided you closer to his crotch. The minute your tongue met his tip, he wasted no time in sliding down your throat. The pride he felt when you didn't gag…he had trained you well.

He held himself still, letting you suck and lick his cock which was still buried securely in your throat where he belonged. He slowly started moving his hips back, retreating from your throat before sliding back in once again, his pace getting quicker and quicker and your throat getting more and more sore.

“Such a good little love, aren't you angel? Taking my cock so nicely in that little throat of yours. Show me just how much you love it and swallow everything I give you”. His cock twitched more and more until he came with a low groan, as not to wake the rest of the sleeping lions. His cum flooded your throat and mouth. It was almost too much to swallow all of it. As he pulled his softening cock from your mouth, you were able to swallow the rest of his cum.

George collected the last bead of cum on his finger and held it in front of your mouth expectantly, his smirk growing when you stuck out your tongue and obediently took his finger into your mouth once more. His other hand came up to your head to give you a comforting pat and stroke his fingers through your hair. “That's my good little love”

A/N: I’m now in the mood for jam tarts. God fucking damn it.

#george wealsey x reader #george weasley fic #george weasley x y/n #george weasley smut #george weasley x fem #george weasley x you #george weasley