Work Text:
Aesop Sharp detests Valentine's Day.
It’s made worse by the fact it is by far the most popular lesson he teaches every year, without a doubt. Without fail, his fifth year students lose their minds over the infatuations that are revealed with every inhale they take of Amortentia. A love potion that has the power to torture.
Every year the students ask him what he can smell, and every year he shuts down their questioning. But the truth is that the ghastly brew always smells the same.
Parchment.
Crushed dittany leaves.
Rose water.
Regret .
Sharp drags himself through classes, near collapsing at the end of the day when he can vanish the horrid potion and open the small window to take a gulp of mercifully clear air.
February Fourteenth smells like a life he has lost. And that perfume of longing and regret lingers over him far after the day is done.