The Forbidden Love of Aesop Sharp

Chapter 27 - The Morning After

I awoke to a biting cold that penetrated to my very core. The wintry chill seemed to seep through, despite the weight of the thick, plush woolen blanket draped over me. As I stretched in bed, surrounded by unfamiliar yet oddly pleasant scents, a faint recognition stirred in my mind.

With a grimace, I discovered sore muscles throughout my body, unable to recall the events of the previous day. A sudden creaking sound prompted me to sit up and survey my surroundings. It became apparent that I wasn't in my own room, and panic seized me, causing my breath to quicken.

The room remained cloaked in darkness, revealing only faint shadows of the furniture around me. A small dresser to my right held a few candles, almost entirely consumed, their flames no longer providing much light. Against the left wall, a small fireplace housed a fire that, despite its robust flames, emitted no warmth. Above the bed, a window allowed slivers of moonlight to filter through, indicating that it was still very early.

Turning my attention to the right, I noticed a man seated in a chair, facing me. He observed me calmly, his brows knit with concern. Our eyes met, causing my heart to race, and I instinctively pulled the covers up.

"I'm half naked," I declared in terror, becoming aware of the lightness of my attire—only my underwear and what appeared to be Sharp's shirt. Yet, I had no recollection of how I had ended up there or what transpired during the night. "Did we..."

"No," Sharp replied firmly, almost hurt by the question. "I would never have done that, given the state you were in last night."

"What happened?" I asked in surprise, moving to the edge of the bed to sit across from him, still wrapped in the warmth and softness of the blankets.

He sighed before responding, "I found you last night, wandering the castle corridors with Sallow." Blushing, I recalled fragments of flashbacks.

"Oh, Merlin," I swore, burying my face in my hands, embarrassed.

"What do you remember from your night?" Sharp asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"You—I talked with you at the Three Broomsticks," I responded with confusion. He gently took both my hands, encouraging me to reveal my face. Then, he lifted my chin to meet his gaze, his face illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight. "And then... a lot of alcohol."

"Well... 2 bottles of whiskey, according to Sirona. And an endless count of Butterbeer," a slight smile played on his lips, though I couldn't quite fathom why. "How do you feel?"

"Awful," I replied almost immediately, not allowing him time to finish his sentence. "I feel like my head is going to explode, my throat hurts, my stomach too, and I really need to pee," I muttered.

"Oh, the bathroom is on the left, first door," he informed me, a smile still lingering on his face.

"Thank you," I whispered as I rose from the bed, feeling a bit awkward. Sharp averted his gaze as I hurried towards the small room. After relieving myself, I gazed at my reflection in the wall-mounted mirror. Dreadful dark circles framed my eyes, and my pupils were dilated. My face was pale, and suddenly, I felt sick.

Hurrying back to the toilet, I barely had time to lift the seat before the contents of my stomach were expelled. "Oh god," I groaned in pain, now resting my hand against my aching stomach.

"Are you okay?" Sharp asked through the door.

Panic joined the shame, and I flushed the toilet quickly before standing and splashing water on my face. "Not really," I admitted in a weak voice.

The door opened immediately, and he entered the room, approaching me to place his hand on my forehead. "Did you throw up again?"

"Yeah, I... wait, what do you mean by 'again'?"