Forbidden Desires (Ominis x Sharp x MC)

Chapter 16 - Aesop's Secret

Aesop Sharp enters his classroom, shutting the door firmly behind him and enveloping himself in the thick silence. The room ahead of him paints a familiar picture. It's unnervingly still and dark despite the candles that are spread out desperately attempting to illuminate the room. To any untrained eye the room looks lonely and bare, but to Aesop, it's home.

He meanders over to the intimidating pile of unmarked essays on his desk, and strokes his calloused fingers across the uninviting parchments which flutter haphazardly under his touch, adding to the mess of his desk.

'Maybe not' he decides as he turns his back to them giving his wand a firm wave. As he peels his overcoat away from his body, a generous glass of whiskey appears before him. "You don't have to worry about me," he scoffs in repeat of Juliet, before taking a generous sip of whiskey with a rare smile. He leans back against the cold wooden desk letting a tense sigh pass his moistened lips. "...Let's hope so".

His thumb busies itself, tracing the intricate details engraved on the whiskey glass as silence demands the rest of the dungeon.

Sharp finds himself trapped in his thoughts, trying to convince himself that his concern for Juliet is justified. As much as he tries not to show it, he cares for his students and wants each and every one of them to succeed.

Especially Juliet.

His thumb pauses its exploration of the glass as the reminisce of whiskey suddenly sours in his mouth.

And why wouldn't he want her to succeed? She's intelligent, determined and puts her all into everything. Any Professor would be honoured to have her as a student.

'And that's all there is to it,' he thinks to himself with hollow confidence. 'She's a tenacious young thing with a heart of gold that's far too witty for her own good. It's not like I have favourites."

... but if he did.

Sharp's head snaps towards the door as a flicker of light captures his attention, but to his surprise the dungeon remains empty and still.

He turns his attention back to his whiskey. "Great," he thinks to himself, "half a glass down and I'm already seeing things."

He places the glass on the desk behind him and lowers his head into his hands for a moment. As his hands move up his face and through his hair, he raises his head and once again notices a dim flicker of light, but this time he instinctively reaches for his wand.

As his hand makes contact with the wooden handle a surge of energy floods his veins. He raises the wand out before him, allowing the energy to course into it and expel a bright stream of magic. All at once, the room is illuminated, eliciting an exasperated groan from Sharp. He shields his eyes as pools of light refract off the potion vials stacked high on the surrounding shelves. The enchanted books surge away from the intrusive brightness, their flapping pages disappearing into the shadows of the arched ceilings.

Sharp's eyes squint shut as the magic grows brighter and stronger, demanding more and more of Sharp's energy.

He falls onto his bad knee, releasing an agonised scream as he hits the ground with gritted teeth. In the agony, his wand clatters to the floor, instantly flooding the dungeon with a familiar darkness. He grabs his knee in an attempt to soothe the pain whilst his eyes remain tightly shut. His other hand quickly locates the wiggenweld he keeps close by in his trouser pocket and makes fast work of uncorking it and pouring it down his throat.

As the slimy liquid travels down his throat, filling his body with a soothing energy he slowly reopens his eyes. Despite the dramatics, the dungeon remains unchanged. That is apart from a small trail of ancient magic that leads outside the door.

Sharp smiles and he clambers to his feet.

"Hello old friend."