Aesop Sharp Fic - Tumblr Posts
In your seventh year at Hogwarts, your mentorship with the enigmatic Potions Master, Severus Snape, teeters on the edge of an exhilarating yet complicated turning point.
Just as you dare to explore your complex feelings for him, you're accepted into the prestigious Goldhawk Initiative—a specialized Auror training program led by the Ministry of Magic.
Under the tutelage of the charismatic Aesop Sharp, a captivating ex-Auror, you're thrust into into a world of rigorous training, advanced spell-casting and high-stakes law enforcement.
Torn between the art of potion-making—anchored by your deep, unspoken affection for your mentor, Severus Snape—and the adrenaline-heavy thrill of an Auror's life, newly invigorated by the sudden appearance of Aesop Sharp, you find yourself at a tantalizing crossroads.
double-edged wand (ao3)
chapter 13: one for the road
sharing one of my favorite scenes from my Aesop Sharp/Severus Snape/reader love triangle fic.
Takes place in your background at your family’s annual Christmas party.
Who said cozying up with your DADA professor and your father’s old service buddy was a bad idea?
Pivoting slightly, your dress slips a bit further down, exposing more of your shoulder. Your eyes cast back over the smooth, bare skin and lock onto his gaze. The glint in your eyes is unmistakably mischievous, sweetly softened by the haze of alcohol.
"Hey," you murmur, your voice a cocktail of sugar and spice that dances through the air.
"Hey there," he echoes, his own eyes narrowing to match your flirtatious energy. "You seem to be giving me a run for my money in the drinking department tonight." He gestures over to the array of empty glasses in front of you two.
Your smile morphs into a sly, knowing grin as you lean back against the couch, taking care to position yourself so that his arm, still draped casually over the back of the sofa, now practically embraces you.
"I knew I would," you proclaim, the words charged with a captivating blend of self-assurance and playful banter. In that moment, he can't help but notice the flush in your cheeks—a clear, if charming, hallmark of your intoxication. The flirtatious lilt in your voice confirms that the night's alchemy of firelight, laughter, and alcohol has worked its magic on you both.
Suddenly, raucous laughter and excited shouts from the lawn capture everyone's attention. Apparently, someone's conjured floating orbs that release unpredictable bursts of wind, sending everyone's robes and hair flying about in comic disarray. It's the perfect blend of wizarding skill and slapstick humor, fire and smoke, enough to draw even the most inebriated of partygoers off the patio and into the game.
Seizing this opportune moment, you swing your legs onto his lap. He raises an eyebrow at you, questioning your audacity. Your response is a picture of innocence, a gentle shrug as you nurse your drink. It's a game of show and tell now, and while you're showing coy innocence –a mix of casual ease and deliberate intimacy– he's telling himself an entirely different story.
Leaning against the corner of the couch, you're turned towards him, effectively making your worlds shrink down to this charged space between you. The weight of your legs on his lap, the playful look in your eyes, and your endearing tipsiness have him contemplating all manner of indecorous thoughts.
For a man like him, fluent in the language of desire, your posture speaks volumes, and he listens intently to every unspoken word.
His voice drops to a sultry whisper, barely audible over the rambunctious laughter and spell-fueled antics unraveling on the lawn. He gestures toward Lawrence, who is now theatrically dueling wands with that other man, both clearly in high spirits. "Sorry I scared off your friend over there."
Aesop Sharp knows he's not sorry. Far from it, actually. And judging by the look in your eyes—half-lit by mischief, half by the firelight—you're well aware of it too.
"Oh, you think you're that intimidating?" you retort, your words tinged with flirtatious irony.
The intoxicating blend of alcohol and tension winds itself tightly around him, awakening a desire to show you just how 'intimidating' he can truly be. It's a dangerous thought, one that might slip from fantasy to reality if the night continues along this electrically charged path.
He leans back slightly, locking eyes with you as if daring you to raise the stakes. "I have my moments. I think Lawrence picked up on that."
"Or maybe he thought we'd have more interesting things to talk about," you counter, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
The fabric of your off-shoulder dress slips further down, exposing even more of your soft skin to the firelight's glow. Coupled with the fact that one wrong –or very right– move on your part could allow him the slightest glimpse of your cleavage, he could certainly think of a plethora of 'interesting things' he'd like to discuss. In fact, it's a challenge to keep his thoughts solely on the conversation.
"And are we? Having an interesting conversation?" His tone leaves little room for doubt; he's moving onto a playing field where he sets the rules, and the transformation is beguiling. His thoughts take a turn toward the predatory, his inner alpha aroused by the chemistry between you.
He watches your lips curl into a smile so undeniably seductive it borders on sinful. The things he would do – could do – to you. But he doesn't lean closer; instead, he holds his ground, unyielding, making it clear he expects you to come to him. Holding back takes a conscious, almost Herculean, effort on his part.
"You tell me," you purr, and the magnetic allure in your voice tugs at him—hard. It does nothing to relax his already twitching cock underneath your legs.
As if to punctuate your statement (or somehow read his mind), you bend one leg, placing your foot casually atop his thigh. The action causes your dress to inch further up your legs, and for a brief, electrifying moment, he's nearly convinced that a quick glance downward would reveal far more than you intend.
Then again, with the way you're looking at him, perhaps it's entirely intentional.
"Oh, I intend to," he murmurs, not breaking eye contact, not closing what remains of the gap between you. He remains in place, emanating a sense of command that he knows you can feel.
Severus Snape and Aesop Sharp, illustrated by the lovely voxophile on AO3 for my fic, “double-edged wand”
first fic I’ve ever written and first artwork I’ve ever received. I could cry this is the best thing in the world and I am cherishing this forever
Summary:
In your seventh year at Hogwarts, your mentorship with the enigmatic Potions Master, Severus Snape, teeters on the edge of an exhilarating yet complicated turning point.
Just as you dare to explore your complex feelings for him, you're accepted into the prestigious Goldhawk Initiative—a specialized Auror training program led by the Ministry of Magic.
Under the tutelage of the charismatic Aesop Sharp, a captivating ex-Auror, you're thrust into into a world of rigorous training, advanced spell-casting and high-stakes law enforcement.
In a world on the cusp of a Wizarding War, you navigate a labyrinth of secrets and dualities. Severus Snape, your potion-making mentor, offers a world of hidden depths and unspoken affection, while Aesop Sharp, the enigmatic ex-Auror, ignites the thrill of danger and the allure of the unknown.
Both men, adding contrasting hues to your life and shrouded in their own mysteries, lead you to a tantalizing crossroads. With the impending war casting shadows, their secretive pasts hover close, challenging you to choose between the art of subtlety and the adrenaline of the frontline.