#aesop sharp and mc

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

In the Light of Care

The Aftermath of In The Shadow Of the Study. Aesop Sharp finds the new fifth-year half unconscious in the Slytherin dungeons following an adventure gone wrong.

Shout out to my ever-fabulous partner in crime @tea-withjamandbread

I have a love-hate relationship with Sebastian, on one hand, I love him, on the other, he is an irresponsible blinded hot-headed dumbass.

And then I have a love-love relationship with Aesop, who despite knowing you are going to give him a heart attack one of these days is never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you.

In the Light of Care (5.7k words)

tw: descriptions of pain, vomiting

You felt godawful all over. Ominis and Sebastian left you alone a while ago. You put up a brave face for them, but truth be told, you've never felt this terrible before. Your vision was blurry and all of your muscles were still cramping up with a pain that burned so much, you were certain it was burning your veins, dissolving you from the inside like acid. It was only when you were alone in that blasted corridor that you allowed yourself to fall down onto your bum, tears escaping your eyes and falling down freely. You tried to stretch as if that would help. You felt your body was inflamed, fever settling into your skin. You were sweating like mad and it took everything within you not to scream, not to sob, not to let your dinner travel up from your stomach and out of your mouth.

You were glad not to have learned the Cruciatus curse when Sebastian offered to teach you. However, you supposed, that even if you had learnt it, you would never ever use it. Even though the poachers, the goblins, and the dark wizards you've often engaged in combat were absolute scum, nobody deserved to have this cast on them. It was terribly unfair, terribly cruel. This wasn't offence-defence, it wasn't about prowess, or skill, or just plain luck. It was terror. There wasn't a right side of the wand to be on when it came to this. Both sides were horrible. 

You curled in onto yourself. Even after you broke down and onto your knees before the boys, Sebastian seemed to disregard it, being only interested in that blasted scriptorium. He was your friend and you loved him, but at that moment... At that moment you hated him, at that moment he was your tormentor. And he didn't even feel bad about it. You wanted to shake his stupid head, to scream at him, to tell him that he was going to find nothing in the scriptorium but more dark magic, more pain. Salazar Slytherin was a vain and cruel man, why on earth would he have made a cure for something, when it was only agony he wanted to create? It was pointless, and foolish and dangerous to have come here and you regretted it dearly as you tried to bury your pain, keep your tears contained. 

Yet, at the same time, you were glad that you went with them. Because if you hadn't, either Ominis or Sebastian would be forced to cast the curse on one another. And Ominis wouldn't, you knew now. And Merlin knows what would've happened to their friendship then if Ominis' best friend cast that curse on him, the very curse because of which he now had no family. So you chose to power through it, you put up a brave face. 

It almost crumbled immediately after. Sebastian looked like a child on Christmas, looking at everything in the scriptorium, while you were still cowering on the floor. A warm hand landed on your shoulder. On any other occasion, you might have welcomed it, but now the hand burned you, made the already aching muscles hurt even more, and you winced. "Are you alright?" Ominis asked, sounding just as close to crying as you were. And though you were still in agony, you did what felt like an Herculean feat, and put your own hand on top of his and squeezed. "Alright," you said simply. You really should stop lying to your friends.

You felt horrible for making Ominis go through this. When he asked the two of you to swear to never ever engage with dark magic after that endeavour was done, you agreed with him wholeheartedly. Mentally, that is, as you couldn't speak by then. You knew you had to apologise to him later, make it up to him. 

You wondered who would lose first, your consciousness or your stomach. What were you to do? You didn't bring any Wiggenweld potion with you, because you didn't think you might need it. You envied the boys now for being Slytherins, the comfort of their common room so close, while yours was so many flights of stairs away. There was no way you'd be able to crawl all the way there. There was no way you'd be able to crawl anywhere, not Ravenclaw Tower, not the Room of Requirement, not the Hospital wing. Now that you thought of it, you really shouldn't go to the Hospital wing anyway, the questions Nurse Blainey would have would only get yourself and your friends in more trouble.

As you sat and thought, your stomach finally lost its battle. You keeled over and promptly emptied your stomach on the stony floor. You felt the bile burn your throat, your eyes were losing focus. A voice came from somewhere far away. Annoyed at first, but as it got closer, you heard genuine concern. You were dry-heaving when a hand - larger than Ominis' - grasped your shoulder and forced you to turn. It didn't help your nausea at the very least, but seeing as you've already vomited all of the contents of your stomach out, you thankfully didn't throw up into the potions master's face. His striking dark eyes were panicked, his jaw hard, and he was kneeling next to you, which most likely did nothing for his leg. You would've attempted to speak, but your vision got dark and it dragged you down into the abyss.

You fell in and out of consciousness for a while. At one point, you looked down, professor Sharp still at your side but something was different. The smell of vomit was gone. You looked down at your robes and they were entirely clean. So was the floor. It was dark again. You saw professor Sharp's face, the underside of it, to be exact. He looked worried to bits. You felt movement and saw the surroundings change around Sharp's head. You felt strong arms underneath your back and legs. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him you were fine, that he needn't worry for you. Everything went black again before you managed to do so. Before the darkness consumed you, you felt the prickle of his chin on your index.

You woke on a bed after, and this time you stayed awake. You weren't in the Hospital wing, that was for sure. You weren't in your dorm or the Room of Requirement either, however, and you felt rather disoriented by that. Where else would you be, where else was a cot you'd use? When your eyes began focusing once more and your brain regained control of higher functions, you actually took in your surroundings. The air was cool, chilly almost, and it felt like heaven on your still feverish skin. There were shelves around the room, and in the middle of it stood a slightly curved desk. You were in professor Sharp's office.

The door to your left opened and the man in question came into focus. "I am very cross with you," he said, though his voice lacked any actual cut. He sat on your cot, and you now noticed he had a phial in his hand. It contained some dark liquid, still bubbling and looking utterly awful. "Drink," he said as he pushed a hand under the nape of your neck and lifted your head. He brought the phial to your lips and poured it into your mouth. You wanted to resist, the potion being foul enough to cause a dangerous churn in your stomach again, but you were so tired and the professor was unyielding.

You panted heavily after you swallowed the last drop, your body trying to bring it up again, but then you began to feel... Comfort. The pain was being flushed from your body. You didn't notice when professor Sharp grabbed your hand, but you felt his thumb stroking the back of it now. You looked up at him and regretted it immediately. He looked so tired. Once more, you unknowingly reached to touch his cheek. He startled when you did, yet almost right away closed one of his hands around your own.

"You know, I often say that the students will make me go grey prematurely, but I swear, you will make me go bald before you graduate," he said humourlessly. "Either you or your dear friends, Mr Sallow and Mr Gaunt. They told me what happened. Not everything, but the main gist of it. I've half a mind to give them both detention for the rest of their time here for leaving you the way they did. I've half a mind to give you detention as well for getting your stupid self into this, for not speaking up that you're unwell," he paused, his voice quivering slightly, "so clever, the lot of you, yet so incredibly stupid.”

The professor sighed then: “Look, I think I’m really starting to think I understand who you are - a good person who’s always willing to help her friends, which is, of course, noble of you. However, someone should finally tell you that you don’t have to insert yourself into every potentially life-threatening situation for them. In fact, as a Ravenclaw, you should be, and I believe you are, clever enough to talk them out of entering such situations themselves, which is just as good.”

You wanted to tell him that quite the number of these situations you didn't expect to be as dangerous as they turned out to be, and you were literally thrust into many of them. Not to mention there were simply some things you had to do… 

But you didn’t say a single word. Not only did Professor Fig specifically ask you to keep quiet about your ancient magic abilities (which were the reason you got into these situations in the first place), but you knew that if professor Sharp knew… Well, he’d most likely try to get you to stop. Something that was absolutely unthinkable.

Sharp was watching you like a hawk, obviously trying to see if he could find an answer to at least one of his no doubt plenty of questions fleetingly appearing in your eyes. The feeling of comfort the potion he gave you turned into mild dizziness again, and you felt a sudden need to sit up. The potions master seemed to have anticipated as such because he was helping you into a sitting position not a second later, his strong hands having no problem lifting your upper body up from the cot. You were glad for his help, as you honestly felt like you were suddenly made of solid lead.

"Could you kindly enlighten me as to why you mad lot would even enter such a place?" He asked after the dizzy spell went away again. You still felt exhausted, but decided it was easier to answer his questions now, especially if he let you off the hook afterwards.

"Sebastian's sister… She's ill. Well, cursed. But you probably know that sir," you rasped out, wrapping your arms around you to battle the coolness of his office. "Indeed I do," answered the professor, "truly awful what happened to her."

He actually sounded remorseful, but also appeared to have lost himself in his head a little bit: "So what, were you searching for a cure down there? I can assure you, you will find no cures to any ailments under Salazar Slytherin's name, it's not one of the things he was famous for… And unless Mungo Bohnam himself left a little scriptorium of his own here, I am afraid you won't find Miss Sallow's cure in these corridors at all."

The teacher suddenly looked ten years older than he usually looked. You didn't know just how old he was, your guess was perhaps mid-forties, but then again, this and his previous job may have caused him to age prematurely. You realised that he and Anne were in quite similar situations, and seeing as he, an adult, and an experienced former auror was not able to find a cure for his leg, he didn't give Anne too many chances either. 

It was all rather horrible, you thought. You've only met Anne for a while, but she seemed like a genuinely sweet person you could see yourself being friends with. And professor Sharp? Well, he was very different from the teachers you used to have before you came to Hogwarts. In the best way possible. He was strict, like they were, but also fair. He was tough and looked like a man not to be messed with. He administered both criticism and praise where they were due, and was very honest and open about everything. You had to admit that you enjoyed both the potion class, and his extra lessons to help you catch up to your classmates. 

It was a little alarming to see a man who normally radiated authority so… down.

"I think," you said after several minutes, "I think Sebastian is trying to find… the curse itself. Because when he does, finding a cure should be easier…"

"His sister was cursed by a goblin though, no? What makes you think you'd find something about goblin curses down there?"

"I don't… I don't know. I just wanted to help Sebastian."

The potions master sighed heavily, tapping his healthy foot on the stone floor, and you thought you heard him utter something about you being 'so bloody loyal, it’s a wonder you’re not a Hufflepuff.'

"And did you find anything?" He asked after a while, once more fixing you with an intense expression.

"No, not a thing, sir. Some old books and scrolls, half-eaten by rats and other vermin, some egocentric busts and statues of Slytherin himself, a goblet of something I almost drank after… after the torturing curse, because I was so thirsty, but then I realised that the cup's been sitting there for maybe 900 years at least and it might not be wise."

"See, Miss (L/N), you're learning the art of 'not dying' quickly. Indeed, you should not drink anything that's been standing in a cup for 900 years," Sharp said in a deeply sarcastic voice, and he looked like he wanted to throw his hands up in the air. He calmed himself down with several deep breaths: "And that's it?"

"That's it."

Hold on… Something was amiss. What was it? There was one book that wasn't eaten away by any creepy crawlies, wasn't there? A book…

"Are you perfectly certain?" the teacher asked once more, watching you intently.

Should you tell him about the spellbook Sebastian picked up? Did he and Ominis tell him about it? Sharp wouldn't be asking you if you found anything of interest if he knew about the spellbook, would he? It was at the tip of your tongue when you remembered:

'It’s a personal spellbook of one of the founders of Hogwarts! There’s got to be something in there that will let me reverse the curse! Anne will be cured!'

Sebastian sounded like a child on Christmas when he said that, all the while Ominis was pale as a ghost and you were trying not to tremble too much from Crucio’s pain. In the brunet’s voice was something that was just so absolutely convinced that he was right. And what is he was? What if he could really cure his sister with some counter-curse from the book? Maybe then you could also use it and help heal Sharp. What if Sharp took it away in fear that you may use the book for wrong, or that the book itself had a curse put on it? 

Should you tell him?

Your mouth opened and you took a deep breath. A feeling in your chest was telling you that you were signing a deal with the devil, but the 'yes' that rolled from your lips sounded perfectly calm and sincere. 

And there it was. You lied to a teacher who told you explicitly that he hated it when somebody lied to him. But you decided you were doing so out of good intentions. Like when you kept your mouth shut about ancient magic.

He sighed once more: "Alright then… I hardly think that you'd tell me if your goal was to become a dark witch, so I suppose this will have to do."

"I can assure you, sir, that's not the case," you replied weakly before you could stop yourself, "I hate those."

"Oh," Sharp asked, his interest seemingly peaked again, "meet many dark witches?" You cursed yourself inwardly, the last thing you needed was for him to probe at you even more: "I've met a few, sir. But it was enough for me to decide that I hated them…"

The professor's eyes were as sharp as his name, and you felt his gaze burning holes into you. Finally, he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, deep in thought. And then he spoke again, his voice softer this time: "What is it you're not telling me? What is it that causes the bruises and the cuts on your face I see each time you come back from 'a visit to Hogsmeade'? And do not try telling me that you crashed into a shrub or fell off your broom, this excuse can only work on me so many times…"

The professor looked genuinely concerned. He was the first professor to question your occasionally banged appearance, the only one who insisted you tell him over and over again. "Are you in any kind of trouble?" He continued, "Because if you are, just tell me, and I promise I'll do my best to help you."

You put your hands on your face.

"Why can't you tell me?"

You did not answer. You didn't even take your hands away. The office was overtaken by silence. It must have been after curfew, as you heard no sounds from the corridors beyond the potion classroom. After what felt like hours, Sharp sighed once more. "Despite what some students may say about me, I am actually not some heartless monster. I won't make you tell me by force. But please, please, Miss (L/N), can you promise me one thing?"

It took a while, but you cautiously lowered your hands to look at him. He looked tired once more, but he didn't drop his gaze from you for a single second: "If you start feeling you're in over your head, if you feel like you need help, be it anything you're dealing with, please... Come to me. Even if it's just for a phial of Skele-Gro…"

Aesop Sharp was a good man, you decided, and a minute later, you found yourself nodding your head.

"Good," he said.

"May I be dismissed, sir?"

"Dismissed? Lass, the only place you're leaving here for is the Hospital wing! And given the nature of the curse that was cast on you, and the caster, I rather think that you wouldn't like that, would you?" You grimaced. Damn. You truly did not need more attention drawn to your little adventure into Slytherin's scriptorium. Obviously having no other options, you carefully lowered yourself until you were lying down again.

"Do you need anything? Food, water, are you warm enough?" Asked the teacher then, his voice softer once more. "I'm alright, thank you, sir," you replied and closed your eyes. They were so heavy, you felt like you might not open them again. 

"Sleep, Miss (L/N)."

—

When you woke up, you felt disoriented once more, and it took you a few seconds to realise where you were, and what sort of events led up to this situation. Looking around the office, illuminated by the faint morning light coming from the window behind professor Sharp’s desk, you saw the man himself sitting in his chair, sound asleep. His hands were loosely folded in his lap, his leg was propped up on a little footstool he must’ve conjured up for himself, as you’ve never seen it there before (could teachers, unlike students, conjure things in Hogwarts outside of the Room of Requirement? Most likely, how else would he have gotten your cot in here?), and his head was hanging to the side. The silence of the room was occasionally cut through by a snore from the teacher. 

He looked quite a few years younger while he slept, the line between his eyebrows gone, his face relaxed and open, much softer than it normally was. You supposed he was not at all bad-looking when he wasn’t currently giving Garreth Weasley the snarl of Chimaera. 

You lay there, panic slowly creeping in. Was he going to tell the Headmaster about your little adventure to the Scriptorium? Maybe professor Weasley? Fig? Has he already told them? Were you in trouble?

You shortly considered sneaking past the professor and away into your dorm. You were itching to have a nice hot bath and change into a different set of robes. You fainty remembered that Sharp cast a cleaning charm on them, yet they still felt grimy on your body, because what you remembered perfectly was the pain you went through in them. At that moment when Sebastian cast Crucio on you, it felt like your very clothes were choking and burning you, like they were covered in salt and your skin under them was scratched and cut up. You decided to burn them the first chance you got and get a new set from Mr Hill.

Once more you thought about making an attempt to leave but ultimately decided against it. The man was an ex-Auror for crying out loud, there’s no way he wouldn’t wake up if you as much as made a single step from the bed. He probably put a ward on it to alert him were you to get up. Not to mention it would solve absolutely nothing. He knew of the Scriptorium, and he knew of the Cruciatus curse. The only thing you’d achieve if you tried to sneak past him would probably be angering him. 

And so you stayed put, reclining on the cot. It was quite comfortable, which was something you couldn’t appreciate much most mornings. Even when you didn’t have classes to attend, you rarely allowed yourself to indulge in sleeping in, much less just lazying around in bed after you woke up. There was always something to do, somebody to help, someone to run an errand for, a beast to rescue, a potion to brew, a plant in need of fertilising or harvesting, a hot spot of ancient magic, or a Merlin trial to solve. You were a busy woman, you didn’t have time to lie around. And yet, as you did, you had to admit that you felt more well-rested than you had in weeks. 

Professor Sharp on the other hand you thought couldn’t be very comfortable. You were never able to fall asleep sitting up, even during long hours spent on the train when you and your family went for a holiday to St Ives, and the first class coupe you used had seating that was much more comfortable than his chair seemed. But then again, maybe there was some sort of cushioning charm placed on it to make it comfier. 

But then again, maybe not, you thought as a quiet but obviously pained groan replaced the professor’s snore suddenly. “Oh, Merlin’s saggy left-...” growled professor Sharp, his lips forming into a thin line and and the wrinkle returning to between his brows. His hand disappeared into the insides of his robes and searched around in the breast pocket for a bit, before resurfacing with a vial of green liquid. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and gulped the potion down in a single swallow, breathing heavily before his muscles finally relaxed once more.

The potions master opened his eyes, dark circles underneath them indicating that he himself didn’t rest quite as well as you. “Miss (L/N),” he said his voice rough from his slumber, “please know that I hope that you won’t get yourself into such a situation again not for only your sake, but for my own as well. I am entirely too old and too tired for sleeping arrangements like these.” Your quiet apology went unanswered.

A few minutes passed with the teacher having closed his eyes once more, and you would’ve thought that he had fallen asleep again, had his hand not been slowly tapping on the armrest. “How do you feel?” he asked without opening his eyes, and you were actually quite glad for that. “Much better, sir,” was your answer, “thank you… For taking care of me.” His dark eyes opened and bore into your own, their intensity nearly enough to make a chill run down your spine: “That’s not what you’re supposed to thank me for. Or did you think I’d just leave you there, half collapsed in your own sick? Is that what you think of me?” You cringed, your eyes screwing shut.

After a few moments of silence, Sharp sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I suppose I am a bit… grumpier than usual because of my aching body. And while I wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of sleeping in a chair were it not for your little suicidal adventure, it is not your fault that I am an old man…” “You’re not old… sir,” you replied, not really knowing why, you just… you just didn’t like seeing him so resigned. You respected the professor a lot, and you were confident that despite his bad leg, he was very much a force to be reckoned with.

He sighed again: “Be that as it may, know that I would not leave you there. I’m responsible for each and every one of my students. The official job description is teaching you lot the art of potion-making, but every member of staff is sworn to do everything in their power to protect the students. Yesterday evening’s events mean that we have failed in this aspect. And while failure is undoubtedly a part of the learning process, I certainly do not take it very well.

“Now, you shouldn’t be grateful to me because I took care of you, as absolutely any and every one of your professors would’ve done the same. What you should, however, be grateful for is the fact that I kept your little adventure to myself. And I am still not convinced I am doing the right thing doing so.  The fact that Mr Sallow used the Cruciatus curse on you is very concerning. The fact he even knows the curse is concerning! However, as he used it to get all of you out of that place, I might be able to forgive it. I plan to have a long talk with him about it, however. Being friends with Mr Gaunt, he should know better than to meddle with dark arts. He’s a bright young man, I don’t want him to end up in Azkaban because of youthful stupidity. You’re all terribly clever, it’d be an awful waste to lose you because you decided to bite off more than you can chew. And entering a place built by a man who was a single Unforgivable away from being considered a dark wizard is absolutely more than a fifth-year can chew, no matter how capable.

“That said, I offer you a deal - you tell me all about this excursion of yours, beginning with the location of the entrance, so that I can later make sure it is no longer accessible to anyone, followed by a detailed description of the events that transpired so that I can make a clearer picture about the whole situation, and I in return keep it all to myself. Mind, you and your friends will be scrubbing cauldrons by hand for the following few evenings so that I can make sure you’re staying out of trouble and not, for whatever reason, doing something as insane as going back.” You opened your mouth to protest, but before you had the chance to even take a breath, the professor spoke again: “You were mad enough to go there in the first place, how do I know you’re not mad enough to return, even with all that happened? 

“Well, Miss, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”

And so you told him. You told him about Ominis’ aunt and her disappearance within the centuries-old Scriptorium. You told him about a passage that could only be opened by one who can speak the tongue of snakes, therefore making the very first of the rooms a certain deathtrap for anyone and everyone who is not of Slytherin’s descent. You told him of statues that would strike as real snakes would if one took too much time solving their riddles. And finally, about learning of Noctua’s heart-wrenching and untimely demise at the hands of Salazar’s cruel trial. You then described the Scriptorium itself in length, leaving out the part where you found Slytherin’s spellbook.

“So there is another entrance?” asked Sharp, his arms crossed over his chest. He was listening to you attentively, only occasionally asking you to specify or fill in a few things. “Yes, professor,” you replied, “however, I don’t know whether it can be accessed from outside as well.” The potions master thought for a bit: “It would be good to retrieve the poor woman’s remains from there so that she can be given a proper burial, but I do not want to distress Mr Gaunt even more than he already was when I spoke with him yesterday by asking him to go back with me, not to mention bearing witness to yet another instance of the Cruciatus curse, so it would be convenient if the room could be accessed from the other side.”

You bit at your lip nervously. “With all due respect, professor Sharp,” you spoke then, your voice quiet, “Ominis said his aunt and the rest of his family weren’t exactly on the best of terms. I’m not sure if they would give her a proper funeral.” “They may not, but your friend Ominis might… Well, best not to trouble the young man even more now, he seems to have a lot on his mind as is.”

“Will you… will you keep this whole thing to yourself, sir?”

“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep, Miss (L/N). You told me everything I wanted to know, and I will keep my end of the bargain. I must, however, still discuss with Mr Sallow about his knowledge and uses of Unforgivable curses. There are some curses whose usage could perhaps be excused in some cases, but when we start to do so with the Unforgivables, we’re on our merry way back into the Dark Ages, when wizards and witches would calmly cast the Imperius curse at anyone who was merely mildly inconveniencing them. These curses were outlawed for a reason. Please, tell me that your classmate didn’t teach it to you…”

You squirmed in your seat. Sebastian did offer to teach it to you, but you said no. Should you tell Sharp? No, no… Best not to, Seb was in enough trouble as it was, no need to make it worse.

“He did not. And after I felt what it can do, I know it’s for the best… Nobody should know a spell like that! It’s so… unfair. It’s like… It’s like bringing a rifle into a sword fight.”

“That is a very good comparison, Miss,” said the potions master, “and you best never forget that. These spells are like poison, they’re unnatural, and each one tears away at your very humanity. I know that you wish to remain loyal to your friends, and I, once more, praise you for that. But I implore you to discourage your classmate from using such a spell again, even if it’s for a ‘good thing’. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

You nodded solemnly. You truly hoped there never came a time in which you’d have to once more witness the foul spell, or any of the other two Unforgivables. Sebastian wasn’t that kind of boy - yes, he did teach you one unsanctioned spell once before, but it wasn’t exactly a dark spell. If you were honest, you used it more during Merlin trials than against adversaries. 

You hoped you were doing the right thing still, not bringing up the book your friend your friend left the Scriptorium with.

Aesop Sharp watched you intently, possibly hoping that you’d perhaps shed some more light on the situation, but when several minutes passed in absolute silence, he cleared his throat, stretching himself once more. “Now…” he said, “I don’t know how about you, Miss, but I could eat a Hippogriff right now.” Despite yourself, and despite the dark thoughts swirling about in your head, you actually giggled: “If you do, sir, make sure it’s not white with orange eyes, that one’s a friend of mine.” 

The professor scoffed: “Friends with a Hippogriff, all the travelling merchants around the Highlands, and two of Slytherin’s three biggest troublemakers. I will need to keep a closer eye on you. This isn’t a joke, by the way, I do intend to keep an eye on you - the things Fig tells me combined with what all I hear about you doing is quite concerning.”

You gulped. You knew he’d find out about everything, sooner or later. After all, even professor Weasley was more than a little suspicious about your activities, but you managed to evade her questions by performing brilliantly in class and helping everybody you encountered. Professor Sharp, a former Auror, would certainly have no problem finding out the truth in the end.

There was only one solution. You had to work faster and harder, You had to carry on with the Keepers’ trials, and you had to stop Ranrok from opening war upon the Wizarding world. And ideally not die in the process. And, hopefully, then Sharp would understand. Maybe he’d even forgive you for the secrecy and the lies.

The teacher sighed and ran his hand over his face. 

“What I said yesterday stands. If you need help, you know where to find me. I won’t turn you away. I promise…”

He stood then, towering over your form, still reclining upon the cot.

“Come on, you’ll tag along with me to the Great Hall, so I can make sure your encounter yesterday didn’t leave any lasting effects. In case it has, perhaps your fellow students will find the sight of you limping next to me amusing.”

You grinned. Despite everything, you truly appreciated Sharp’s sense of humour: “Very well, sir.”

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the story. As always, you can find this fic and all of my other works over on my AO3

I am always very grateful for feedback 🥰

#fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp #aesop sharp and reader #aesop sharp x reader #protective aesop sharp #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #hurt/comfort #ravenclaw reader #aesop sharp and mc #aesop sharp is a good teacher #reader instert

[sallow-gaunt]

Headcanon

Sebastian is a good student. He’s bright, he’s charming, and it’s no wonder his teachers think he’s capable because his parents were both professors so it would make sense that he’s grown up well-read and educated.

But then Anne gets cursed before the end of their fourth year and stops attending Hogwarts - as his fourth year draws to a close, his grades begin to slip because he’s not paying attention in class, he starts breaking curfew because he’s staying up after hours to research cures, all he can think about is how to help his sister and it negatively impacts his studies. He puts on a facade in class, but his smiles are fake, and when he thinks no one is looking, he turns sullen. The only friend he spends much time with anymore is Ominis, and while their friendship is admirable, it’s a far cry from the boy who used to banter with everyone, the boy who always had something to say. The professors try to be understanding given his circumstances, but they’re all undeniably worried about him.

At the beginning of fifth year, this behaviour continues - but there’s something different, if only slightly. Hecat notices it first in the first DADA lesson of the year when he duels the new fifth year; despite the fact he loses this duel, she notices the way he grins at the new student, his boyish face bright in a way it hasn’t been since his sister was cursed. It’s nice to see him smile again, she thinks.

The next to notice it is Professor Weasley, when she comes to fetch him from detention with a “special task”; he looks surprised but relieved to be out of detention, and listens as she explains that she wants him to take the new fifth year to Hogsmeade for supplies. She doesn’t miss the way he beams ear to ear upon hearing that the fifth year asked for him specifically when encouraged to go with a friend, and as he goes to meet them in the entrance hall, there’s a sudden bounce to his step. It makes her smile to herself, pleased that he seems genuinely happy.

It doesn’t take long for all of the faculty to notice it, and it becomes a hot topic of conversation among them. Garlick insists that she keeps seeing him and the new fifth year laughing together on their way to Herbology, even on days they don’t work together; Sharp notes that while Sebastian still works with Ominis, he’s often seen at the potion station of the new student, the two of them talking in low teasing tones that suggest a friendly banter. Ronen disclosed that while the new student often chooses to sit with Natty or Poppy for Charms, he’s caught them and Sebastian looking at each other from across the classroom; everyone has a good chuckle when even Fig remarks that he’s often seen Sebastian waiting outside of his classroom when the new student leaves, as if the Slytherin boy has been waiting to see them. Many of the other teachers also recall seeing the two in each other’s presence around the school constantly, sharing sweets and talking.

They all agree that the presence of the new fifth year student is the cause of Sebastian’s uplifted mood, there’s no other explanation quite frankly. He’s not completely the same as he was before - he is still breaking curfew, still not focusing completely on his work, still seems sullen on most days - but when he’s around the new student, he’s definitely happier and more like his old self.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #headcanon #matilda weasley #eleazar fig #aesop sharp #anne sallow #I might write a full length fic or one shot one day who knows #just having a lot of Sebastian feelings today #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader

[5sospenguinqueen]

Professor Sharp: Sebastian Sallow did what?

Nurse Blainey: I wouldn't let him see MC because visiting hours were over, so he wasn't allowed to stay... So, he punched himself in the face and told me he was injured.

Professor Sharp: Well, you have to admire his dedication?

Nurse Blainey: He broke his nose!

#sharp is head of slytherin and fed up #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy incorrect quotes #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy drabble #hogwarts legacy prompt #hogwarts legacy headcanons #hogwarts legacy one shot #hogwarts legacy funny #hogwarts legacy fluff #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow drabble #sebastian sallow headcanons #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #professor sharp #aesop sharp

[girl-named-matty]

*Proceeds to write a romance fanfic*

#this meme is for those who want the romance DLC #hogwarts legacy #hl #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #mc #garreth weasley #Leander Prewett #Amit Thakkar #Imelda Reyes #Poppy sweeting #Natty onai #Aesop sharp #ik y'all tryna romance them #bc im tryna romance them too #Hogwarts legacy memes #hogwarts legacy fandom #memes

[harrypotterandthefandomaccount]

worthy of trust

pairing: sebastian sallow x fem!reader

warnings: sebastian being a jerk & calling you ignorant, angst, feeling like you lost a friend but he makes it up to you with a lil kiss

note: i've been obsessed with hogwarts legacy and the gameplay itself is just phenomenal. 39 hours into the game lol and still so much to do, so enjoy this sebastian oneshot. based on his questline, in the shadow of the mine i think?

important note: i do NOT support hate towards the transgender or LGBTQ+ community. JKR has made her stance very clear and i could not disagree and be disgusted with her more. this fic and future ones merely pertain to the character(s) in hogwarts legacy and to my knowledge, JKR had no part in the game. if you are still mad i play the game/write fics for hogwarts legacy, you can scroll past this. thank you!

you had no qualms about trusting lodgok since sirona ryan had known him for years, along with miriam. while the both of you had been albeit hesitant at first towards one another, he had proven his loyalty to stopping ranrok and was actively trying to be one step ahead of him - which is exactly what you, sebastian, and the others wanted.

however, when the opportunity arose to tell sebastian about lodgok, it all came flooding back to you - anne.

you and sebastian had just finished clearing out a cavern of arachnids, which quite honestly, was pretty exciting. you had even reminded him that well, spiders aren't insects.

"don't you start," he had responded, a small smirk on his face.

after finding the last piece to the tryptich and hoping to solve the mystery concerning isidora morganach, returning to the undercroft was the last step. you both were eager to see if the portrait piece would fit, and once it had been placed, you were able to breathe.

"please tell me you recognize the location in this bit of canvas," you said, turning around to face your slytherin partner in crime.

he sighed, "the good news is, i do, in fact."

your shoulders dropped, "and the bad news?"

sebastian turned to look at you, "we're in for more trouble."

you groaned, leaning your head back as Sebastian's eyes seemed to darken; gluing your attention back to your slytherin friend, he continued, "i know that coast. Ranrok has taken over a huge mine and the surrounding area. Marunweem has suffered for it. It's as bad as Feldcroft's become."

with a sigh, your eyebrows knitted together and you looked at the triptych once more. sebastian glanced towards you, "should we head there now?

you shook your head, "no, we should wait."

sebastian immediately questioned you, "why?

you gave a grimanced look, "all this time, we've been a step behind ranrok. I may know someone who could help us get head."

sebastian raised an eyebrow, "who is that?"

before you could even think about formulating your answer a different way, the words slipped out, "a friendly goblin named lodgok. he wants no part in ranrok's fight."

sebastian immediately became disgusted, angry, even. "a friendly goblin?" he started, "you know goblins cursed my sister to shut her up! said she should 'be seen and not heard.'"

you took a step towards sebastian as he stepped back. taking a breath, you nodded, " i do, but not all goblins-"

he glared towards you, "not all goblins what? have you forgotten feldcroft? have you forgotten the mine we just went through?"

you sympathized with him, no doubt. you knew how close the twins were, how much Sebastian loved anne and cared for her - but this fight against ranrok was against all wizardkind, not just anne. and you knew she would understand.

shaking your head, you tried to reason with Sebastian, "no, sebastian, i haven't. you're not listening to me."

sebastian scoffed, "why would i listen to someone so ignorant?"

ouch.

you knew sebastian could be mean, cruel, but throughout these months of knowing him, he has only been so kind, sweet and soft with you. there was never any malice towards you, no anger or disgust. towards the goblins and ranrok in conversations with you, but it was never directed. it was understandable that what happened to anne was hurting Sebastian as well, but this anger was now at you, and he was changing.

you already had reservations working with lodgok before sirona ryan said you could trust him, but there was something he wasn't telling you. but it wasn't a secret that jeopardized your working relationship with him, no. if it had been, you would have turned your back and not worked with him another day.

it wasn't ignorant at all, you knew that. a bit sketchy at first, sure, but not ignorant. lodgok had proven himself trustworthy and has helped you in being one step ahead.

you stepped back in surprise, "that was cruel. perhaps your uncle was right about you - you don't know when to stop."

sebastian glowered over you, stepping forward as his words were laced with venom, "oh, i do know when to stop. unbelievable."

taking a deep breath, you turned and walked out of the undercroft, ready to scream. you understood where Sebastian was coming from but the way he talked to you was so...angering. maybe you should have lied about who it was, about what lodgok was.

but calling you ignorant? okay, yes, this was your first year learning about magic and catching up to the rest of your peers, but you earned respect and knew - for the most part - what you were doing. you would never intentionally put Sebastian, anne, ominis, whoever in danger if you were not confident.

with a sniffle, you made your way through the dark arts tower to your common room, ready to just cry about how upset and angry Sebastian was. but before you could, ominis's voice stopped you, "coming from the undercroft, are we?"

you turned around, eyes glassy with unshed tears - albeit glad that ominis couldn't see them. you gave a small smile, "oh, yes. we were just discussing a painting we found."

ominis hummed, not entirely satisfied with your answer, "your voice is shaky. what happened?"

you let out a breath, "i - we can't talk about it here, ominis. too open."

he sighed, and with his free hand, he grabbed your arm, pulling you towards an owl statue inside a small window, before it turned around and you found yourself...well, inside a wall at hogwarts.

before you had time to question ominis of where you were, he asked once more, "what happened?"

you explained everything, just leaving out the parts where Sebastian was intent on not stopping to find a cure for anne, but moreso focused on the triptych. when you revealed who lodgok was, ominis cringed.

"oh, that's not the worst part," you said, wiping a stray tear, "he asked why he should listen to someone so ignorant."

ominis winced once more, "yikes."

you grumbled, "tell me about it. i want to cry because, well, i understand why he is upset but lodgok is a lead to stopping ranrok, to being one step ahead."

your blind friend nodded, "agreed, and if sirona trusts him, that's saying something."

you both stood in silence, the occasional sniffle from your nose giving ominis hints of how much this bothered you.

"give him time to cool off," he began. "anne is a sore spot for him, but he needs to understand that she won't be the only one cursed without your goblin friend's help. you made your way into his heart, those that he cares about. you'll be fine."

you nodded, trying to formulate your words, "thank you, ominis. i apologize for putting you in the middle of this, but it was nice to have someone listen."

ominis smiled softly, "of course, y/n. meet you at dinner?"

with a quiet, "yeah," you watched ominis make his way out of the secret room, and once again, you were left with screaming thoughts. sobs immediately racked your body, regret aching from your tears and sore throat. there was nothing left by the time you were done, face dried with tears as you composed yourself.

taking a breath, you left the room and immediately looked down, seeing a letter by the 'door.' on the top left was ominis's handwriting, but the letter itself was unopened: told you he's gone soft for you.

with a pained sigh, you picked up the letter and opened it, reading the words:

we need to talk. undercroft after dinner?

"merlin's beard."

dinner was not something you could stomach at the moment, and to be honest with yourself, you were sure it could come right back up as you made your way to the undercroft. with a wave of your wand, you opened up the clock-looking door and headed inside, anxiety eating you up like a full-course meal.

sebastian had his back to you, staring intently at the triptych until he heard the door open. his eyes met yours immediately, and he softened.

"hi," he said, biting his lip nervously as you made your way over to him.

"sebastian, i-" you began, but he shook his head. with a small smile, he grabbed your hands and held them against his chest, "it's ok."

your eyes welled up with tears, "but it's not, seb. i should've been honest with you and i wasn't. I'm sorry, you have every right to hate me."

sebastian was silent as the tears fell down your cheeks until he wiped them away with his thumb. you sniffled, looking up at him. he grasped onto your hands once more, "you were hesitant to tell me because you know how much i care for anne, for my sister. you listen to me and want what is best - that has always been you. I'm not mad at you, dove. I'm mad at merlin for making that our last option."

you gave a sad excuse for a chuckle as he smiled at you. he continued, "dove, listen to me. I'm sorry for what i said. i know you aren't ignorant; i reacted harshly about your goblin friend, but you understand why?"

you immediately nodded, squeezing his hands, "of course, seb. i know how important it is for you to find a cure for anne, and i would never jeopardize that if there was a chance lodgok could betray us. but he's good, honest."

sebastian grinned, and you continued, "i'm not mad at you either, y'know. you're good to me, seb, and i was just scared i lost you."

he held your face between his hands, thumbs softly rubbing over your cheeks as he adored you, "you could never lose me, dove. you are one of the few good things left in my life and i'd be an idiot to let you go."

you swallowed a sob as tears clouded your vision, but Sebastian hushed you, "it's okay, sweetheart. we're okay - i trust you. promise."

you nodded and gave a small smile, "i trust you too, seb. promise."

leaning forward, sebastian nudged his nose with yours, and you giggled as he mumbled, "there's my pretty dove." and with that, Sebastian sealed your lips in a kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck as he grounded himself on your hips.

maybe you should send lodgok a thank you card.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagine #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow/reader #sebastian sallow/you #sebastian sallow x you #the sallows #anne sallow #solomon sallow #ominis gaunt imagine #mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #aesop sharp #professor fig #professor hecat #defense against the dark arts #salazar slytherin #slytherin #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ravenclaw #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter hogwarts legacy

[mrs-sharp]

Everytime you realise your favourite fictional character is... fictional.

#gaming #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #fanart #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp #fallout #professor sharp #fallout 4 #paladin danse #danse #nick valentine #fallout nick valentine #ignis scientia #final fantasy xv #newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #aesop sharp x mc #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x oc #professor sharp x reader #professor snape #snape

[phinik]

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #professor sharp #aesop sharp #everett clopton #imelda reyes #leander prewett #victor rookwood #garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #ruth senet #raum senet #wtf

[zetadraconis11]

HL Incorrect Quote #53

*after Potions class*

*group surrounding a broken jar of dragon scales*

Prof. Sharp: So... who broke it? I'm not mad. I just want to know.

MC: I did. I broke-

Sharp: No, no you didn't. Mr. Gaunt?

Ominis: Don't look at me. Look at Garreth.

Garreth: What? I didn't break it.

Ominis: Huh. That's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Garreth: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Ominis, squinting: Suspicious.

Garreth: No, it's not!

Sebastian: If it matters, probably not, but Poppy was the last one to use it.

Poppy: Liar! I don't even brew that crap!

Sebastian: Oh, really? Then what were you doing by the inventory earlier?

Poppy: I use the weighing scales to measure out beast feed; everyone knows that, Sebastian!

MC: Ok, ok! Let’s not fight! I broke it, let me pay for it, Professor!

Sharp: No! Who broke it?

Garreth, leaning in: ...Professor... Natty's been awfully quiet.

Natty: REALLY?

Garreth: Yeah! Really.

Natty: For Merlin's sake!

*group starts arguing*

Sharp, to the faculty: I broke it. My leg bumped into the shelf, and it fell. I predict ten minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with war paint on their faces and a pig head on a stick. 

*looks back at the group that continues to argue*

Sharp: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

#Sharp might have a lil sense of humor and this is how he uses it #This had to have happened #who broke it #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy incorrect quotes #garreth weasley #natsai onai #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #poppy sweeting #aesop sharp #hogwarts mc

[weirdraccoon]

End of 6th year after the trio finally get together.

MC *fidgeting with her hands*

Sharp: So, I heard about you and Mr. Sallow.

MC *avoiding eye-contact*

Sharp: And Mr. Gaunt.

MC: ...

Sharp: ...

MC: ...

Sharp: I'm not sure whether to be impressed or worried. Eleazar is probably laughing his ass off and I'm sure he'd tell you something along the lines of "atta girl" but I am not Eleazar, so you're going to learn everything about a bunch of things very quickly and you're not going to leave this classroom until you show me a flawless contraceptive potion.

MC *inwardly screaming*: I do not need the talk! Fig gave it to me before coming to Hogwarts!

Sharp: He did?

MC *mumbling*: He thought I needed to experience every "normal" teenage trauma.

#loosely based on my own mc #for whom im still in the process of writing the fic #if you know cassandra cain think of her childhood #it's similar #mmm ah yes #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #adopted dark lord au #aesop sharp #eleazar fig #rip btw

[julietpricee]

POV: Aesop Sharp wakes you up before he leaves for work

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #professor sharp #aesop sharp #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp x mc #daddy sharp #aesop sharp aesthetic #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x mc #professor sharp x reader #potions master aesthetic #potions master #harry potter hogwarts game

[shadowtriovibes]

Hi! I absolutely love your fics! I have a little request/idea. Sebastian finds out that MC has a little crush on professor sharp and all of a sudden can’t stand his favorite professor. (His small crush on professor garlick is totally different and super justified)

jealousy, you got me somehow

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Sebastian finds out about your little crush on a certain Potions master and all of a sudden can’t stand the man. (His small crush on Professor Garlick is, of course totally different and super justified.)

“You’re sure you won’t become too affected by Sharp’s dulcet tones and neglect something important?” he asks with a smirk. Annoyed, you huff and abandon your notes at your side. “You’ve been waiting several days to bring this up again,” you grumble. “I should’ve known I wasn’t safe.”

Sebastian first finds out about your little preoccupation when he innocently stumbles upon you studying with a group of your fellow Slytherin girls in a quiet corner of the library. Or at least, it was quiet until Nerida Roberts had started to derail your entirely legitimate conversation about the uses of Dittany for an upcoming Potions exam by bringing up Professor Sharp himself.

“He’s just so handsome,” she sighs dreamily. “How am I supposed to focus on what’s going on in my cauldron when he’s standing right across the room looking all brooding and roguish?”

Violet McDowell giggles and adds, “I could listen to him talk all afternoon and I wouldn’t learn a single thing!”

“I suppose that’s why so many seventh-year girls are still taking Potions even if they don’t need it for their N.E.W.T.s,” you murmur.

“Can you blame us?” Violet sighs. “You must admit, he’s quite nice to look at.”

“Of course I think he’s handsome,” you say with a scoff. “Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t see the man.”

As if on cue, Sebastian comes around the corner carrying a large stack of books on defensive magic and spots the three of you huddled around your Potions notes.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he says with an easy smile.

Sebastian sets his books on the edge of the table and leans down next to you to steal a chaste kiss while he can. He’s seen relatively little of you this week while you both prepare for exams in classes the other doesn’t have, so not even your late-night study sessions have overlapped.

“Speak of the devil,” Nerida teases.

“Shh!” you whisper. “Enough now.”

“Not keeping secrets from me, are you?” Sebastian asks teasingly as he snags one of the empty seats.

“Of course not,” you demur. “By the way, have you got my Potions notes from last week? I think I mixed them up with yours from Ancient Runes.”

Sebastian chuckles and asks, “Trying to change the subject? I must have walked into something quite scandalous.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Nerida says teasingly. “We were just chatting about Professor Sharp.”

“Oh?” Sebastian asks, surprised. “What’s he done now?”

“Nothing,” Violet McDowell answers. “We were just saying that he’s easily the most handsome professor at Hogwarts.”

“He’s certainly your girlfriend’s favorite,” Nerida says with a smirk.

Sebastian raises a skeptical eyebrow at you, and sure enough, you’re blushing.

“Really?” he drawls. “You have a thing for Sharp?”

“No!” you whine. “I just – I really like Potions class, that’s all.”

“Of course you do,” Violet taunts. “So you can moon over Sharp during his lectures!”

You shoot Violet a threatening look and not-so-gently kick the toe of your boot against her shin underneath the table. She yelps and curses under her breath before indignantly burying her face behind her Potions textbook, and Nerida wisely avoids eye contact and doesn’t offer anything further.

After a beat, Sebastian clears his throat and says, “Well then, I, er… suppose I’ll leave you girls to it.”

He helps himself to one more kiss goodbye and you can tell by the significant look he gives you before leaving that this is not the last you’ll hear from him about your crush.

Sure enough, a few nights later the two of you manage to claim a loveseat by the fire in your common room where you can curl up against his side and revise your Potions notes one last time before your exam while Sebastian dutifully transcribes runic diagrams onto lengths of parchment.

“Are you feeling prepared for your exam tomorrow?” he asks you casually.

“I think so,” you answer. “It’s not a practical, so I can’t imagine it will be too challenging.”

“You’re sure you won’t become too affected by Sharp’s dulcet tones and neglect something important?” he asks with a smirk.

Annoyed, you huff and abandon your notes at your side.

“You’ve been waiting several days to bring this up again,” you grumble. “I should’ve known I wasn’t safe.”

“What?” he laughs. “I’m just teasing you, love.”

You narrow your eyes at him skeptically. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Well, it’s just… I don’t really know what you see in him, that’s all,” he murmurs, lazily turning a page in his Ancient Runes textbook.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I just think he’s rather foul,” Sebastian says plainly. “He’s impatient, meticulous, he’s clearly got a dark past and I truly don’t understand why all you girls think he’s obviously the most handsome man at Hogwarts. To me, he’s simply average.”

Merlin’s beard, you think. You knew Sebastian wasn’t a fan of Hogwarts’ Potions master, but you had no idea his dislike ran so deep.

“I think he’s a good professor,” you offer quietly. “He’s always been quite helpful to me, especially when I needed to master healing potions, and he saved my life in the Repository.”

“How generous of him,” Sebastian mumbles.

Angrily, you sit up a little straighter and pluck Sebastian’s quill out of his hand so he’ll look at you.

“And what about you?” you demand indignantly. “While we’re on the subject of good-looking professors, I happen to know that you turn into a stammering, blushing fool whenever Professor Garlick is nearby.”

You know for a fact that Sebastian Sallow is not an idiot, which is why it’s all the more frustrating when he tries to deny something you’ve known about for months.

“I do not!” Sebastian protests. “That’s – that’s ridiculous.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “You are not a subtle person, Sebastian, nor are you particularly good at being punctual, yet somehow you’re never late to the greenhouses.”

“W-well, I’m rubbish at Herbology so I like to make sure I won’t miss anything important,” he lies.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be quite so rubbish if you actually listened to the professor instead of staring at her chest for the entire lesson,” you grumble.

Sebastian goes bright red. Clearly, he had no idea you could see him doing that.

“Look,” he whines. “It doesn’t mean anything, I just think she’s nice to look at is all.”

“And I’m not allowed to think Professor Sharp is handsome?” you counter.

“It’s different,” he insists. “You actually like him, it’s not just an attraction.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you hiss.

“It means he’s a powerful wizard, a brilliant duellist and he’s a former Auror for Merlin’s sake,” Sebastian angrily confesses. “I couldn’t possibly measure up to that.”

You feel your heart break a little when you realize what this is truly all about – your love’s relentless insecurities, the same ones he’s battled for many years now.

Softly, you ask Sebastian, “Do you actually feel threatened that I might leave you for a professor? We’re seventeen, Seb.”

“It’s preposterous, I know,” he sighs. “But I just… I feel like I could never compete with him.”

“Sebastian,” you croon as you take your hand in his lap. “I want you to listen to me very clearly, alright?”

You wait patiently for him to meet your gaze before you continue.

“As you said, Professor Sharp is impatient,” you agree. “He’s also meticulous, and maybe he does have some darkness in his past. But you also said that he’s a brilliant duelist and a powerful wizard. Do you know who else has all those traits?”

Sebastian swallows nervously and squeezes your hand a little tighter.

“You do, love,” you say softly. “So perhaps the reason I’m fond of him is that he reminds me of you.”

“I’m not an Auror,” he points out a little sullenly. “And I’ve never saved your life.”

“Not yet you aren’t, but we both know that’s why you’re studying for Ancient Runes so much lately,” you say with a fond smirk. “And since I’ve saved your life plenty of times, I’m sure you’ll return the favor someday.”

Wordlessly, Sebastian tugs you against his chest and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m sorry for being such a prat.”

“Apology accepted,” you whisper into his chest. “And I love you too, you fool.”

He holds you close for a while after that, nose buried in your hair while you listen to his slow, even heartbeat through his uniform shirt. When he finally lets you sit up so that he can kiss you properly – not one of those chaste ones from the library – you find yourself halfway in his lap before you even realize you’ve shifted.

For Merlin’s sake, your notes are in a messy pile on the floor now.

You huff and try to climb off of him to gather them up, but Sebastian coaxes you back to him with a single finger on your chin, his eyes firmly fixed on your lips. By the time he’s kissed your frustration away, you can’t even remember what you were supposed to be studying for.

“We should bicker more often,” Sebastian says with a satisfied grin, his lips slightly swollen.

“On that subject, I was just wondering…” you ask him with a teasing smile. “Is there anything Professor Garlick has that I don’t? Should I be worried?”

“Absolutely not,” he murmurs as he flicks open the top button of your shirt. “Truthfully, you both have two very nice things in common.”

“You’re foul,” you tell him simply.

“I meant that you’re both kind-hearted and beautiful,” he says smoothly.

You’re positive that you know exactly what Sebastian meant and appreciate the compliment nonetheless. In fact, he’s being so sweet that you even let him undo a few more buttons while you can take advantage of your seclusion.

The next day during your Potions exam, while your female classmates are undoubtedly slipping in and out of pleasant daydreams about your alluring professor, all you can think about is Sebastian’s lips on your neck and his hand inside your shirt as he’d whispered all sorts of electrifying promises about what he’ll do to you after you turn in your parchment.

It’s a fierce struggle to focus on Dittany of all things with that in the back of your mind, but Professor Sharp is nevertheless pleased when you end up being the first to submit your completed exam and then promptly excuse yourself from the dungeons.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #professor sharp #aesop sharp #i know i'm supposed to be writing older requests and longer fics #but i was in a funk this weekend (hungover mostly lmao) so i needed to finish something short and sweet #so have some jealousy fluff!

[animasola86]

A Demonstration of Power and Support

Notes: This is a continuation of Scars and Peace and Comfort, but can be read individually.

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x f!reader (with a face scar)

Genre: Fluff/Smut // Words: 6.3k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: He gave you confidence, you gave him a bad case of jealousy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Size difference. Age gap. Established student/teacher relationship. Jealousy. Rough sex.

A Demonstration of Power and Support

There it was again. That giggle that made his blood boil and his trousers tighten. Looking up from his desk, he saw you laughing with the boys you shared a potion station with. You were happy, smiling, giggling, enjoying yourself, and seeing you like that should make him happy too, but it wasn't you he was glaring at, it was those boys who kept engaging with you, smirking, joking, flirting.

He knew there'd be a downside to your newly acquired confidence. Others would notice it too. And even though he was proud of you for wearing your scar with so much pride now, it pained him to see you with other men, other boys, who would look at you the same way he looked at you, and he hated them and he hated himself for not being able to control his emotions better.

He called you out by your name, the formal way he hadn't called you in so long. You stiffened immediately, the giggle dying in your throat as you turned around to him, a deep blush on your cheeks. “Focus on your potion!” he told you sternly, his gaze dark, his usual demeanour, really, but it made your stomach turn because he was never like that with you. Never, not even before you were more than student and teacher.

You lowered your head, and he saw your lips quivering. “Yes, professor,” you said docilely. “I'm sorry, professor.”

His heart broke a little when he saw you so defeated, the happiness wiped straight from your beautiful face as you returned to your cauldron, staring into it, as you forced yourself not to get too emotional over his unexpected outburst.

You even ignored the boys around you now. Despite feeling bad for calling you out publicly, he watched with grim satisfaction how his students returned to their work. There was no more giggling.

After class, he sat at his desk, sunken over essays and other papers, when he heard quiet footsteps echo through the empty classroom. “No office hours today,” he said gruffly without looking up. He was definitely not in the mood to deal with any stupid questions right now.

“I'm sorry,” a timid voice replied, and he looked up quickly to see you standing a few feet away from the table, your hands clenched in front of you, your eyes glued to the floor. You were about to turn around again, your face sunken, hurt by his rejection, but he quickly extended a hand towards you.

“Wait...” he called with a heavy sigh, hating himself even more for being... who he was.

You looked up at him, biting your lip before you slowly walked closer, staring at his hand. Your eyes finally met his, dark and intimidating, and you hesitated before you placed your small hand into his larger one.

He quickly closed his fingers around it and pulled you towards him. A gasp escaped you, and your eyes widened slightly. You stopped next to his chair, shoulders still slumped, as you awaited another lecture.

But he just squeezed your hand gently, his dark gaze wandering over your face. He was tempted to raise his other hand and caress your flushed cheek and your scars, but he was well aware that his classroom might be empty, yet the door was open, and despite wanting to show everyone who you belonged to, he couldn't. He never could, not here, not anywhere in public.

And that was what hurt the most.

“I'm sorry,” you said again, your voice so quiet and fragile. “I didn't mean to... disrupt your class...”

He groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. “Please, forget about that. I shouldn't have called you out like that. I'm sorry,” he added, looking up at you from his seat as his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand. “I suppose I'm just... grumpy today,” he added, a twinkle in his eyes as he recited the word you had called him before, in good fun though.

You weren't always this meek around him, especially when the two of you were alone. And he loved that about you. You were never intimidated by his gruff nature, you even teased him about it on occasion. But when you were in his classroom, you were just another student, and he admired you for it, admired the shift when everyone else poured out and you were finally alone with him.

When nobody was watching, you couldn't stop yourself from touching him, throwing your arms around him, pressing yourself against him, your tiny body moulding to his bigger one.

But now you were different, barely able to look at him as you stared at your hand in his. He saw the struggle on your face, and he sighed.

“Do you... still want me to come over tonight?” you whispered timidly, your voice shaking.

He grabbed your other hand then and made you look at him in surprise. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said softly, frowning at you. “I'm always looking forward to seeing you.” He exhaled loudly again, cradling both of your hands between his long fingers. “Don't let the gruff exterior fool you.”

He saw your lips twitching before you smiled shyly at him, your cheeks bright red.

A sudden noise from the door made him turn his head, and when he noticed the boy standing there, waiting for you apparently, he slowly, inconspicuously, let go of your hands and leaned back, clearing his throat.

“That'll be all,” he said loudly, throwing you a gaze you hopefully didn't interpret as another scowl, and you turned your head away for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

“Thank you, professor,” you played along, and he gave you the hint of a wink as he watched you go, his eyes roaming your small form, before you joined your classmate and were gone from his view.

Feeling his stomach tightening at the sight, he sighed deeply and rubbed his bearded chin. He really should have known better than to allow himself to be this affected by a student...

‎

When you sneaked into his quarters after dinner, he was waiting in the large armchair by the fireplace. As soon as the door opened and closed by invisible hands, he stood with a deep groan and slowly walked towards your disillusioned form. You had barely lifted the charm, when he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you against his broad chest.

You gasped but were quick to wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek against him. He held you close and kissed the top of your head.

“Thanks for coming,” he growled quietly, making you lean back enough to tilt your chin up and look at him, a confused frown on your beautiful face.

“Of course,” you whispered, your eyes scanning his hard face. You were about to raise a hand and touch his rough jaw, when he closed his hand around your wrist and took a step back.

“Come with me,” he said and pulled you along to the large fireplace.

You looked towards the entryway to his bedroom, then up at him in confusion. “No massage tonight?” you asked quietly.

“No,” he grunted. “I've taken my potions, I'm fine...” He knew he didn't look fine, face tense, deep shadows under his dark eyes, jaw clenched. But unlike you, he knew he was tense for a different reason, and he could no longer wait to relieve that growing tightness.

He stopped in front of the fireplace and put his wand to the stone ornament in the middle of the mantelpiece, and with a low rumble, the secret passage behind it opened. He extinguished the fire and bent down slightly to traverse the tight space, holding out his hand to you.

You grabbed it, a mixture of confusion and excitement grazing your delicate features. Once you were on the other side of the fireplace, you noticed the staircase in front of you. “What is this?” you asked curiously, but he just dragged you after him, up the stairs, surprisingly fast despite his limping walk.

You reached a small room, and for a moment, you just stared. There were easels all around, with drawings and sketches of landscapes and buildings, charcoal, quills, brushes and other drawing equipment lying on all kinds of surfaces, bookcases and shelves lined the walls, and the spaces between them were filled with murals of mythical creatures. There were wooden dummies standing and sitting on the furniture, and a wood carving station at the other end of the room. But the most prominent feature was the large, sturdy looking table in the middle, long and wide like a small bed, and it was completely empty.

But not for long. While you still looked around the small space in awe, so many questions on your mind, he had stepped behind you and picked you up on his arms, and you shriek-laughed in surprise. You knew he was strong, despite the state of his body, but he had never carried you like this before. There was a certain warmth pooling in your cheeks, and elsewhere.

To be fair he didn't walk long before he set you down on the edge of the large table. For a moment he stood there, towering over you, his eyes dark and his face set, and you looked up at him with your heart racing and your lips trembling, and (shamefully) your core throbbing.

He licked his lips then and stepped closer, his hands gently prying your thighs apart as he stepped between them, pushing your skirt up tantalisingly slow. His calloused fingers glided over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You felt dizzy when they reached your centre. His fingertips teased against the fabric of your undergarments, poking and prodding, and he hummed deeply when he felt a wet patch forming. “Excited, aren't you?” he whispered and leaned over you until his breath ghosted your flushed cheeks. Not sure if he wanted an answer or not, you just nodded, chewing on your lips nervously.

He gave you a dark grimace, lowering his head, and when you felt his fingers pushing the thick fabric of your underwear deeper between your folds, he pressed his lips to yours for a heated kiss that quickly left you breathless for multiple reasons. Your heart was racing as your eyelids fluttered shut, his tongue very demanding tonight as it slipped into your mouth and tangled with yours.

You moaned against his lips as he started rubbing the pad of his finger between your still cloth covered lower lips, teasing against your entrance and brushing against your clit. More mewls left you when his free hand grabbed the back of your head, gripping your hair and pulling you closer to him as he kissed you like he might have never kissed you before. He barely left you the chance to breathe, and in his iron grip, you couldn't turn your head away.

Feeling light-headed, you just succumbed to the sensation, kissing him back with as much fervour as you could muster, while he kept moving his finger against your throbbing centre, the chafing fabric creating a friction that burned deliciously. A deep whimper escaped your throat, and he finally leaned away, his lips looking as swollen as yours felt. Licking them, you looked up at him, the blush from your face quickly spreading all over your body.

He straightened up fully, in all his intimidating glory as he glowered down at you. His eyes remained on yours as his hands slipped under the waistband of your underwear and slowly pushed down, and you almost didn't notice the small tug when he asked you to lift your rear. You did, your shaking hands clawing at the edge of the table as you watched him pull your bloomers down your legs before they were unceremoniously tossed aside.

Your chest rose and fell quicker when he spread your legs even further with his hands firmly on your upper thighs, his fingers almost completely circling them while his thumbs rubbed against your sensitive skin. A cold breeze wafted over your exposed mound, your clit throbbing in anticipation. He tilted his head when he looked down, his eyes roaming your body.

You almost shrieked when he suddenly pulled a stool closer, the scraping sound cutting through your tense nerves like a stab to the heart. Pressing your lips together to keep your noises down, you watched him sitting down on the stool, and now he was really looking at you. His elbows pressed your legs apart as he stared at your sex, fully on display for him.

Squirming slightly, you felt a little uncomfortable with him inspecting you like that, not that he hadn't seen it before, but never with such intensity. You let out a little squeal when he moved one of his hands to gently cup your mound, his whole palm pressed to it, covering it, and when he looked up at you, the familiar warmth was back in his eyes. You breathed a little easier when he reached his other hand up and caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, coaxing a shy smile from you.

He loved seeing you like that, confused, embarrassed, submissive, and highly aroused. Holding your gaze for another moment, he rubbed his hand over your wet folds, gathering your slick on his palm. When he finally bent a finger and slipped it between your lower lips, he watched you closely, and as a soft squelching sound rang in his ears, he saw you writhing in discomfort, frowning slightly, but it made him smile at you, and your embarrassment was quickly forgotten.

His finger moved between your folds before he dipped it gently into your entrance, and you accepted him easily with how wet you were. A soft moan escaped you, and he saw how you tightened your grip on the table, your knuckles turning white. He pushed the finger in as far as it would go, feeling your walls clenching around it, then withdrew it and added another finger. Your breath hitched at the slight stretch, but he kept going, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you, twisting and turning them until he curled them in a come hither motion – and caused you to yelp and squirm against his hand.

With a dark smile, he pressed against that sensitive spot again and again, watching you twitch on the table, your lips parted and trembling, soft little mewls falling from them. And then he pushed his thumb against your clit, hitting your pleasure points in tandem, and you lost it, thrashing your head back, your thighs convulsing against him, your noises tumbling out of you without control. He stood then, his hand still gripping your cunt tightly as he leaned in to capture your mouth, swallowing your moans and cries as you climaxed hard around his fingers.

Your release coated his hand, and he slowly eased his grip, rubbing your insides softly while you came down from your high. Kissing you gently, he watched you with eager eyes, taking in every single twitch, and when he leaned away, you were breathing hard and shaking badly. He pulled his fingers out of your clenching cunt and raised them to your face.

Despite your haze, you slowly unclenched your trembling hands from around the edge of the table and cradled his wet fingers between them before you brought them to your mouth, and when you started licking your slick off his skin, you held his gaze, and the hunger within your eyes made his erection strain against his trousers.

His breath hitched as he watched (and felt) your small tongue flicking around his long fingers, licking up every single drop of wetness, you even put them into your mouth, hollowed your cheeks and sucked on them hard, and he was tempted to press them deeper, watch you really lose control when you would gag around them, struggling to breathe, but instead he tugged at them and you released them with a wet pop. You almost sighed in disappointment when he lowered his hand that was glistening in your saliva.

He wiped it on his leg and licked his lips, slowly tilting his head before he nodded at you, a simple, curt nod, and when his eyes left yours to look down at where his groin pressed against the table, holding your spread legs wide open, you nodded back and moved your small hands towards the buttons of his trousers. You were quick as usual, and when his hard erection sprang free from its confines, he saw your eyes widening slightly as you blushed even deeper.

The same way that he had inspected your cunt earlier, you were now looking at his cock, taking in every single detail, from the springy darkened head to the bulging veins and impressive length and girth of it, and you felt a new wave of moisture seeping out of your waiting hole. The sheer necessity to have him inside you made you squirm on the table, needy little mewls escaping your throat. His desire to be inside of you was equally high, but he only let out a deep grunt when your hands closed around his shaft and stroked it almost roughly.

You writhed on the edge, slowly scooting closer, eager to connect with him finally, but he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. Looking up at him with your lips parted in surprise, he took in your youthful face, the innocence edged into your soft features, but your eyes and the way your lips quivered told a different story. And he could have stared at you for a very long time, despite the throbbing need resting in your hands, but in the end the carnal lust won.

He pried your hands from his cock and grabbed your waist, and without much effort he flipped you on the table, made you lie down on your stomach with your legs hanging off, your surprised yelp squeezed out of you as he gripped your hair and pressed your cheek into the cold wooden surface. Then he grabbed your ankles and brought your knees up, causing your rear to rise in front of him, your skirt bunched up on your lower back, exposing every glistening fold to his viewing pleasure.

You were barely able to adjust to the new position when you felt his hard member slapping against your wetness. Your hands found the opposite side of the table just in time when he pressed his tip against your entrance. Bracing yourself, you felt him pushing in, slowly, carefully, but as soon as your walls clenched around his head and pulled him in more, he snapped his hips against you hard and buried his entire length inside you. The deep thrust pushed you over the table and the sudden stretch coaxed a shrill shriek out of you.

He held onto your ankles, his body flush with the edge of the table, caging you in, holding you in place, as he started pulling out and pushing back in, out and in, in and out, slow and deliberate, over and over again, and you mewled under the constant friction, your body melting into the table. Once he found his rhythm, his big hands wandered to your tiny waist, closing around it, his long fingers grazing your stomach, and then he really started to pound into you.

Your noises grew louder, as did the wet squelching sounds as your pussy fluttered around him, muscles clenching, a burning warmth gathering inside you. You sank your nails into the old wood, holding on for dear life as his pelvis smacked against your cushioned arse in quick succession. His own grunts filled your ears, adding to the tension building up in your belly, those deep vibrations pushing you right over the edge.

You cried out when your walls clamped around him, that tight coil within exploding into a thousand tiny lights that made your entire body convulse against him. He felt your orgasmic contractions, and despite the soreness in his leg, he kept fucking you through your release, your juices helping in easing your tight passage, but he still strained to keep his rhythm. His fingers dug into your soft skin, and he felt a bead of sweat running along his temple.

He might have overdone it tonight, adding that certain potion to the many others he had to take on the daily to soothe the pain, but his desire to dominate you properly had been too strong. Seeing you with those boys had made him incredibly jealous, not that he would ever admit to it or even tell you so, but he had felt it in his gut, and the moment you had stepped over his threshold, he had known he had to show you that you'd never need anyone but him.

At least for as long as you were blessed with each other's presence.

Closing his eyes, he continued his relentless assault on your clenching cunt, your moans and whimpers giving him the necessary strength to move even faster and harder and deeper, and each time he smacked against your cervix, you would yelp and mewl and convulse in his iron grip on your waist.

It didn't take long for you to come once more, your limbs twitching uncontrollably as your juices gushed past the tight grip of your walls while his cock kept pistoning in and out, squeezed by your orgasm, and finally he felt his balls tighten, that painful tension in his stomach easing when he gave you one last deep thrust before he came inside you, painting your insides with his seed, marking you as his.

He groaned and stilled against you, holding you pressed to his pelvis as he leaned over you slightly, his weight making your knees quake before they slipped from beneath you, and you slumped to the table, legs hanging off bonelessly, gasping for air as his body pushed heavy on yours, his cock gliding even deeper, twitching and throbbing inside you.

You felt dizzy and were still seeing stars when he eventually leaned back, easing the vice-like grip of his fingers on your bruised waist. You didn't care. You felt more bruises blooming in and on your body, so it didn't matter either way. The releases he allowed you were worth the rough handling.

And apparently he wasn't done yet. While he slipped out of your tight cunt, with your combined juices seeping out of you and down your legs, you admired his stamina and wondered how he was able to even stand so straight and tall after the unusual exertion. He almost never took you like this, you usually found positions that wouldn't strain his stiff leg, but he had been weird the whole day, and as long as he seemed fine with this, you couldn't care less.

Your mind was spinning, the sensations still whirling in your head (and throbbing in your sex), and they jumbled about even more when he suddenly flipped you onto your back again, your limp legs flopping over the edge of the table as you blinked up at him.

He stood tall and intimidating between your twitching thighs, his hands rubbing along your hips as his dark eyes roamed your face and body. While you tried to sit up, leaning on your elbows despite the shudders crushing through your body, he didn't wait long to continue your adventure. Your eyes snapped to his still erect cock, and you blinked in confusion. He had just emptied himself inside you, how was he still that hard?

It didn't matter in the end when he grabbed his length and pressed it against your entrance once more, easily slipping inside, the loud squelching noise as he pushed his seed back into you causing goosebumps to ripple over your bare legs. The stretch made you inhale sharply, but you quickly adjusted, and not a moment too soon as he started grinding his hips into you, every slam hitting your bruised cervix.

You let out a pained whimper every time he did, but the more he moved inside you, the more pleasure you felt in the motion. Your whole body was on fire, and you wished you wouldn't wear all these layers of your uniform as sweat coated your skin and drenched your clothes. You felt him moving slower until he stopped completely, deeply buried within your warmth.

When you looked up at him, his already very dark eyes were so black and intense, you felt cold shivers running down your spine. Swallowing hard, you tried to sit up more, your hands propped up behind you, but you wanted to touch him, feel the tension in his muscles, the strength in his grip. Ease the darkness away that seemed to grip him tightly tonight.

But you couldn't move, couldn't say anything, you felt like a bunny cornered by the big bad wolf, pinned down by his big paws (and massive cock), rendered unable to even breathe as he stared down at you. A meek little whine escaped you as he suddenly leaned over you, one arm propped on the table next to you, the other hand extended to brush his thumb against your cheek as his fingers slid into your hair. You felt the rough pad following the protruding lines of your scar all the way over your eye to your split eyebrow, and you quickly closed your eyes to allow him the motion.

He moved it back down, the touch gentle but also firm, and when he gripped your hair, you yelped and your eyes flew open again. He held you in place like that, staring straight into your soul, and you felt yourself melting into his gaze.

Seeing you so submissive, surrendering to him so completely, made his heart race. There was a dark shadow creeping around the edge of his vision and deeper into his very being. He had never felt this possessive before, never this demanding. He'd never been this rough to you, either, and by watching your lips trembling, your hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, your whole body quaking against and around him, he knew he had been a little too rough.

And still he was far from regretting anything. He couldn't. He wasn't done yet.

His hand tightened around your head and pulled you closer to him, and as soon as the strained mewl left your throat, he had claimed your mouth and kissed you deeply. You hummed against him, despite everything kissing him back with fervour, your hands finding his arm as you held onto him while he gripped your hair.

As he slipped his tongue between your lips, he started moving within you again, slow, deliberate thrusts, and your cunt replied in full when it started clenching around him. He swallowed your moans and whimpers before he let you catch your breath and kissed your cheek, then your scar, licking up the sweat from your temple, until he pulled your earlobe between his teeth and nibbled on it, his stubble scraping over your soft skin. Your breaths were loud in his ear, and a deep shudder crashed through him as a particularly sensual mewl slipped from your swollen lips.

A grunt escaped him, and he bit your ear playfully before leaning back fully, staring down at you darkly. “Get your tits out,” he commanded roughly, still rolling his hips into you as you scrambled to prop yourself up on your elbows after he had let you go rather unceremoniously.

Despite the vulgar tone you had never heard him use before, you quickly fumbled with the buttons of your shirt, your fingers shaking badly, but eventually you pushed all those layers aside and freed your small breasts.

His big hands closed around them, kneaded them anything but gently, and you whimpered quietly, squirming on the table. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, then pinched them so hard you let out a surprised yelp.

His gaze was dark, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. After a few moments of groping your soft mounds, he let them go and grabbed your hands and placed them on your chest. “Play with them,” he ordered, and you did, fondling them much more carefully, easing the aching his touch had left.

He watched you grimly, his hands moving back to your waist, fingers digging into the bunched up fabric of your skirt, before he slammed his hips against your pulsing centre in harder motions again. You cried out when his cock pushed against your battered cervix, but he kept going, giving you those slow but powerful thrusts that went deep and left you breathless.

Your fingers clawed at your breasts in support, your breaths as erratic as your heartbeat, as he pushed you up and down the table, your bare bottom scraping over the wooden surface every time he pulled you into the snap of his hips.

You wanted to watch him, observe the strain on his weathered face, how his eyebrows furrowed in dark concentration, how he gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw, the deep rumbles escaping his throat the only audible sign of his exertion, but you soon succumbed to his pounding strokes as your eyes rolled back and you sank your fingernails into your own soft mounds while you clenched tighter around him.

He looked at you, your tiny body so fragile before him, the state of it absolutely feral with your open shirt, your small hands holding onto your breasts, your hair stuck to your sweaty skin, your lips raw and quivering, your eyelids fluttering, while he slammed his cock into your spluttering wetness, your legs limp and boneless as they bounced against him with every rough impact.

Despite the immense pleasure this brought him, he felt horrible, for the way he treated you, for how he spoke to you, for his own stupid jealousy. As if it was your fault that those pesky boys suddenly noticed you, if anything, it was his fault for giving you the confidence to walk about proudly, with no care in the world, especially not about those lines that grazed your cheek.

The worst part was that you didn't give him any reason to be jealous. You had come to him after class, with your head hanging, confused by his bad mood, afraid of his rejection. And you still wanted to see him, spend the night with him, be with him despite everything. And all he wanted was to prove to you that he was the only one you'd ever need, when in reality you seemed to already know that.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he stilled inside you, eased his rapid rhythm, and when he looked at you again, you were still barely able to meet his gaze. He moved his large hands around your limp body and lifted you up, pressed you to his chest, held you close, save and protected, before he started moving again, slow and gentle, not as deep so he wouldn't hurt you any more, and not as fast so he wouldn't overwhelm you.

You slowly came to in his arms, fingers clawing at the front of his waistcoat as you tilted your chin to look up at him. Your eyes were glazed over and your pupils dilated, you looked utterly spent already. He leaned down and kissed your sweaty forehead, and you smiled softly at the gentle touch. Another reason why he absolutely did not deserve such a sweet little girl: you were too forgiving (and not a girl per se, not anymore, he had made sure of that).

He shifted you in his hold, one hand under your rear, the other flat on your back, fingers curling around your shoulder. The new position seemed to wake you up more again, and you slowly wrapped your legs around his hips, holding onto him, trying to take some of your weight off his arms, not that you weighed anything in his eyes, you were a mere doll in his hands.

Still you gripped his broad shoulders and started moving your hips against him, meeting his gentle thrusts with more fervour than he would have expected of you in your somewhat battered state. He couldn't help but underestimate you sometimes, given your age and size, though that usually made him admire you even more when you proved him wrong, because you were more resilient than he thought, stronger, braver, and needier.

And by how tight your cunt clenched around his cock, you were very needy at the moment. Together you found a fast rhythm, as you bounced against him and he snapped his hips upwards, he was so focused he didn't even notice the dull ache in his leg, and when you started mewling again, he closed his eyes and smiled, savouring the sweet sounds as he drove you closer to the edge.

You and himself, to be exact, because when you suddenly convulsed against him, your legs holding him in a death grip while you sank your fingernails into the thick layers of his clothes, you grabbed him by the cravat and pulled him right along into the blissful abyss.

Crying out loudly, you came around him hard, your muscles contracting, squeezing him, and he twitched with you, embracing you tightly as he groaned and grunted, his hips giving you jerky little stabs before he pushed deep and stopped, pressing your tiny body against his, holding you in place as he erupted inside you, filling you with his hot seed once more. You moaned into his chest as you spasmed against him.

He felt his strength waning and collapsed onto the stool next to the table with a pained growl, your frame still cradled on his lap, still impaled by his softening length. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned against him, both of you slowly coming down from the high that made your head spin and his heart race.

“Are you okay?” He was the first to speak, even though his voice sounded raw and gruffer than usual.

“I wanted to ask you the same thing,” you whispered back, slowly looking up at him, your cheek resting against his shoulder.

His dark eyes met yours. “I'll be fine,” he said, too tired to smile. “Did I hurt you?” he then added, not too tired to frown at you.

You shook your head. You'd be sore tomorrow, for sure, but you usually were when you'd been with him, and you'd become quite used to it. Maybe you even liked it (a lot, you liked it a lot). It was a constant reminder that this big strong man had accepted and invited you into his life, and you'd do anything to keep it that way for as long as possible.

He watched you closely, definitely doubting your reply. But he didn't press it, he only pressed you, closer to his chest. You inhaled deeply and smiled at him, slowly raising a hand to move your fingertips over his strong jaw up along the ragged lines of his scar and back down again. The sound of his beard scraping against your skin sent shivers down your spine and made you clench around him.

Shifting beneath you, he exhaled loudly. Despite your weak state (and the growing desire to do it all over again), you noticed the strain in his movements. He was in pain, that much was clear. And you felt guilty for not seeing it earlier. Before he could move, you loosened your limbs around him, grabbed his shoulders and stood on shaking limbs before you lifted yourself off him. Your walls protested, clinging to him, but then he slipped out of you, and you sighed deeply at the loss.

Leaning against the table (because you'd fall over otherwise), you held out your hands to him, and even though he usually refused that gesture out of pride, he grabbed them and let you help him pull himself to his feet. As soon as he stood, you wrapped your arms around his midriff and held him close (and steady). He rubbed his hand over your back, his other arm propped on the table for support.

While he tried to find his bearings, you quickly tucked his spent cock away again and buttoned his trousers. You didn't care how you looked, though, so you left your shirt wide open. The cold breeze on your heated skin felt nice, and you were sure he didn't mind the view.

You remained close to him when he started walking, slow and careful, each step coaxing a quiet groan out of him. You knew you weren't of much help, he couldn't really lean on you with how tiny you were compared to him, but you still steadied him, and even if he would never admit to it, he was grateful that you did these things so nonchalantly. There was no pity, just support, unwavering support. He held onto you as you both left the hidden room and descended the many steps down to his quarters where he knew you'd take good care of him after he had taken so good care of you.

“By the way, what is that room?” you asked quietly, curious eyes looking up at him.

“My... hobby room,” he replied hesitantly, his voice rough and low, vibrating through him (and you). “But I haven't been up there in a while,” he added, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“Found a new hobby, eh?” you concluded with a smirk that warmed your cheeks – and surprisingly so: his too.

His arm tightened around you, his lips twitching slightly. “Possibly.”

NEXT PART: A Demonstration of Pride and Pain

End notes: In the end, our grumpy old man is just another ambitious, possessive Slytherin that struggles with his jealousy, right?

(Also to clear things up because I tend to be really vague about these things in my writing: he "enhanced" himself (via an unnamed potion) that night to last longer to show her that she doesn't need those young boys who might be better suited for her, she only needs him, and of course, she already knows that, but still adores it when he dominates her like that. Because who wouldn't...)

And on another note: his secret hobby room, right? I just can't see him walking up all those stairs, or even crouching through the fireplace, but then again he has to brave all of Hogwarts' staircases too, so what's one more or two or three? And I know the room might just be an Easter egg like display for some concept art or whatnot, but I can totally see him drawing and sketching and whittling away in there, just sitting and working with his hands, because what else can he do, hm?

Seriously, the more I write for him, the better I get his character, and it intrigues me more and more, and I feel I've only scratched the surface still.

Edit: I have now written a fourth part (see link above!), and I am thinking about more (and maybe you could do that too? I am open for ideas/requests!). So stay tuned, and thank you so much for reading my little Sexy Times with Sharp Series.

[ MORE SHARP SMUT ] [ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #reader insert #fem reader #female reader #hogwarts legacy smut #professor sharp #professor sharp smut #professor sharp x mc #professor sharp x reader #professor aesop sharp #fluff #smut #mysmut #daddy sharp

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

Aesop Sharp, ancient God of 5 More Minutes.

Here he his: adorable, charming and grumpy potions master. He's just crept out of his bedroom to: check time, realize it's still damn early, and go back to sleep.

#professor sharp #aesop sharp #professor aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy meme #aesop sharp x mc #hogwarts legacy mc #aesop sharp smut #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy

[5sospenguinqueen]

Garreth: Anyone else have the weird urge to lecture themselves?

MC: What?

Garreth mimicking Sharp: Weasley, what are you doing?

Sharp (walking up): Weasley, what are you doing?

MC: You conjured him.

#hogwarts #hogwarts legacy drabble #hogwarts legacy incorrect quotes #source: brooklyn nine nine #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley imagine #garreth weasley #aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy prompt #hogwarts legacy one shot #hogwarts legacy headcanon #hogwarts legacy funny #hogwarts legacy fluff #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy garreth #garreth weasley drabble #garreth weasley headcanon #garreth weasley fluff #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

On this day a year ago, I published my first Hogwarts Legacy fic Some Like It Sharp. Back then I had no idea just how it would explode, and I'm still so grateful for every new read of it. But more than that, I am grateful for what followed - it was thanks to this fic that I met the incredible @tea-withjamandbread who has been the best friend to me this past year, showing me do much kindness and companionship, and I try to do my best at reciprocating. And I met so so many other friends thanks to taking this little leap of faith and publishing my work. I'll try my best to tag all, but if I miss anyone, please feel free to contact me and kick my bum for forgetting you 😅 @dzajna @thriftstorebabayaga @endeavour12345 @ynyseira @julietpricee @empyreanroses @voxophile @misssugarcat @roomofretirement @phinik-nonw @sharpcroft @ladyelizabethraven @juneymont @aesopsharpstuff @superconductivebean @coffeeandmagicaltales @gufu-vire @rebeca-r @fizzlewick @dreambender96 @coolmiaw @megskoomapirate @theauthor2103

I'm sorry if I forgot anyone 😅

Thank you all so much that this past year I was able to write, draw, and grow by your side and with your input. It hadn't been the easiest year, but I found that the rewards of it outshine all pain 💖 You're brilliant people, thank you so much.

And thank you for reading Some Like it Sharp ❤️

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #reader insert #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #anniversary #fic anniversary

[charmedimsure]

fuck it, hogwarts legacy as vines part 3

part 1 || part 2

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy shitpost #hogwarts legacy incorrect quotes #sebastian sallow #garreth weasley #leander prewett #aesop sharp #ominis gaunt #natsai onai #natty onai #everett clopton #mc #hogwarts legacy mc #vine compilation #vine #harry potter #anne sallow #professor sharp #professor binns