A Sharp Sensation

13

Noreen had settled once she realized your kindness was genuine and the three of you were chatting away, thick as sap. Not nearly as thick as the brandy the Nurse had brandished.

"We could've been schoolmates!" Marge cheers. "That is, if you weren't from the Colonies!"

Noreen rolls her eyes. "They haven't been The Colonies  in over a hundred years."

"I know Wizards older than 115!" The younger Blainey protests. "This is a stalemate!"

You chuckle, feeling completely unbothered and free. "I wonder what house I might have been in?"

"Hufflepuff!" The other women cheer unanimously. 

Marge rested her head in Noreen's lap, snuggling close, "Hufflepuff's the best," she yawns.

"You might be biased," you reply, eyeing your nearly empty spiked tea cup.

Marge gazes into her wife's eyes, grinning like a fool. "Oh absolutely, all my favorite people were Hufflepuffs."

Noreen was blushing, muttering something about looking professional in front of her peers but Margaret paid no mind. The two seemed completely at ease, treating you the same they might have treated an old friend. The chimes of the clock indicated it was midnight, much time had passed. 

"I've got work in the morning with Sirona," Marge says, stumbling over towards Noreen's bed. "I'm not going home, it's too late. You're stuck with me."

"Oh, no what a tragedy," The Nurse teases. "You should get some sleep as well (y/n), you have classes in the morning."

You downed the last of the liquid courage in your tea cup and stood, albeit a bit wobbly.

"What's it you say? Cheers?" You muse. "Cheers ladies, I'll see you later."

You exit the empty hospital wing, wandering down the spiral stairs towards the faculty tower. Once you reached the bottom of the stairs, you decide to stop in the prefects bathroom. Sitting on the marble steps into the ridiculously large bathtub, bending over to splash some water on your face.

The intention was to sober up a bit but you only found yourself soggy. You stood, carefully climbing out the bath and returned to your pilgrimage. For some reason, the walk to your living quarters felt absurdly long. Why were there so many damn stairs in this castle?

After descending yet another set of stairs, you spy a bench nestled under a window and decide to rest. Beside the bench was a peculiar exhibit: a jeweled tortoise shell. After taking in your surroundings there were quite a few strange curious about. A cabinet full of skulls and specimens, a leaning tower of cauldrons ready to topple over. None of these items matched and it made you giggle.

"If the collection can not be connected, it's a hoard~" you sing, kicking your legs back and fourth merrily.

The unlatching of a door caught you off guard and you peer up to see none other than Aesop Sharp, the very man you had been so desperate to talk to.

"Hey, it's you!" You cheer, you couldn't believe your luck! You had been longing to speak to him and he just... appeared! "Must be magic or somethin'."

Aesop looked worse for wear; his clothes were rumpled and untidy, his beard had grown scraggly and it was clear he hadn't been shaving. He looked like the physical embodiment of stress.

"Miss (L/N)?" He asks, baffled to see you. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I was just having tea and a chat with my new friends," you explain, standing to greet him. "Marge is a hoot!"

"You've been with Margaret and Noreen haven't you?" He asks, rushing to catch you as you trip over nothing.

"How come they get to be called by their names and you just call me Miss (L/N)?" You grumble. "So you can be friends with them and not me?"

Aesop pinches the bridge of his nose, looking much to tired to handle this. "Margaret Lebanon was my student and Noreen Blainey had started at Hogwarts the same year I had. They're my peers and I've grown used to their names."

"Well you should get used to mine," you argue. "Go on and say it! Say (Y/N)!"

"Merlin-" Aesop curses. "You smell like fire whiskey. Come, sit, I'll find you a pick-me-up."

"Is it more liquor?" You ask as he guides you into his chambers, seating you beside a fire.

"It most certainly is not," Aesop says, "You stay here, don't try to stand."

He left you alone in what could only be described as a sitting room. Across from the chair you were seated in was a desk covered in papers. A green lamp sat below a window that peered out into the dark, black night. A case of what appeared to be various potions sat against a pillar and then there was a large, ornate chest to your left.

"So this is how Aesop Sharp lives," you wonder aloud. "but where does he even sleep? Can werewolves sleep? I don't remember."

"I sleep in the next room, and Yes, werewolves can sleep. I don't sleep during nights of the full moon though," Aesop explains, appearing beside you with a foul smelling liquid. "Drink up."

You crinkle your nose in disgust. "It smells like toads!"

"Probably because it contains toad eyes," He replies nonchalantly. "Now drink."

"That's icky!" You protest.

"You're drunk," Aesop retorts, as if that made drinking toad eyeballs a reasonable action.

"Well you're mean!" You spit. "Trying to make me drink some poison-"

"It's not poison, it'll sober you up," Sharp explains, holding the foul glass closer, making you gag.

"Maybe I don't want to be sober!" You cry. "You don't want to talk to me if I'm sober!"

Aesops face fell and the only sounds filling the sitting room were the crack of the fire, the scratch of a quill and the beating of your heart.

"I-" Aesop pauses, his voice grave. "I promise I'll speak with you if you drink the potion."

"Pinky promise?" You mewl, hot tears sliding down you cheeks.

"I do."

You took his hands in your own, marveling at how large they were. They were covered in callouses and scars and you couldn't help but wonder how they all got there. You shook your head, clearing away the distracting thoughts before interlocking your pinky with Aesops own. You eye the foul liquid, cringing as you accepted the glass from his hands.

"Cheers..." you grumble reluctantly before downing the liquid like a shot. It tasted like mud and dung, all mixed inside a bloody stew. You wanted to throw up but you knew you couldn't.

Things felt clearer. You were no longer sweaty and you didn't feel as hysterical as you had a moment ago. You flush, you really had sobered up quite quickly.

"I'm sorry," You mumble, standing to leave, "I'll just go now-"

"A promise is a promise Miss (L/N)," Aesop says quietly. "Let's talk."