Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After Professor Fig’s death, time had slipped between your fingers like sand. Before you knew it, the roommates you barely spoke to were packing up to go home for the summer. While everyone was talking about how excited they were to go to see their family, all you felt was empty inside.

It had been so easy for Professor Fig to take you away from your hometown. You needed not a minute of deliberation before dropping everything to start your magical apprenticeship. There was nothing left for you in the city, anyway.

You scuffed the toe of your boot against the carpet as you hesitated in front of Professor Weasley's office. The leather of your shoes was dusty and covered in scratches. Little souvenirs left from your many adventures. Those adventures were the reason you were dreading going inside.

Professor Weasley had sent an owl because she wanted to speak to you. It didn’t bode well that you didn’t know for certain which one of your many misdeeds it could have been that made her summon you. From going into the Forbidden Forrest regularly, to your midnight escapades using the prefect bathroom, there were enough to pick from.
Your name being called pulled you out of your trance. Weasley stood inside the large wooden door opening.

As you followed her into her office, she asked, “Do you know why I asked you here?”
You scraped your throat. “N-no, Professor. No clue.”

“Sit down, please.” She motioned to the chair in front of her desk. You dutifully obeyed.
“As you know, summer has approached, and it is time for Hogwarts to close its doors.”
You nodded.

“I shall cut to the chase." She steadied both hands on her desk as she sat down across from you. "Do you have anywhere to go this summer?”

“Uhm...” You were taken aback by her question. You had been kind of wondering about that yourself. Knowing there was not even a stray relative to claim you back home, Professor Fig had offered for you to stay with him after school was finished. That had only been a couple months ago, yet it felt like a lifetime. Now he was buried deep in the ground, together with your fantasy of a careless summer under his tutelage.
The thought of your beloved mentor sent a pang into your heart. With an aching chest, you tried to recollect your thoughts.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. “I was thinking of buying room and board somewhere. I have- financially I’m quite comfortable.” You hoped your vague statement about money would be glossed over. It was pretty hard to explain all the money you had made by selling dubiously procured treasures.
“Why do you ask, Professor?”

Professor Weasley hummed in acknowledgement.“While it is true that where a student stays during the summer is none of our concern, I’m personally invested because of your... unconventional circumstance. I am aware of your home situation. Or rather, lack thereof. I hope you forgive my encroachment, but I am also aware that Professor Fig had offered to take you under his wing this summer."

You nodded woodenly.

“I have thought of an arrangement for you, one that won’t cost you anything and will also be beneficial to your education.”
“Oh?” Was all you could muster.
“Every summer, Professor Sharp restocks our potion supply, mostly for the medical wing, and he could use an assistant. While it is highly unusual, you can stay here in the castle. Provided, naturally, you are on your best behaviour.”

You gaped at her. “Professor Sharp is okay with this?” You liked Professor Sharp. Or rather, you respected him a lot. You didn’t know him very well, but you always enjoyed his classes. He was very stern but provided good feedback. You had also spent quite some time brewing in the potion’s classroom before you had access to the room of requirement. He never seemed to mind your presence but you wouldn't go so far as to say he enjoyed it either.

“He has been very positive about your potion skills, and I don’t doubt he could use some help.”
That was a clever evasion if you ever heard one. You shifted in your chair. You weren’t sure but, the prospect of having all the free time in the world to explore the castle and grounds without any annoying prefects or teachers to spoil the fun sounded quite appealing.

“So besides Sharp, there won’t be any teachers?”
She shook her head.
You tried to not sound too eager while you asked, “Not even Headmaster Black?”

“No,” she replied, “During the summer everyone leaves except for the house elves who will continue to keep the place running.”
“If he- If you’re sure Professor Sharp is okay with it, I would like to stay in the castle.”

As you left Professor Weasley you were filled with a new sense of excitement you hadn’t felt in a long time. You were already planning out the first places you would explore when you ran into Professor Sharp.
“Professor,” you greeted.

He nodded at you as he passed you into the transfiguration classroom.
Evidently, he was also going to meet with Professor Weasley. You shrugged it off and made your way over to the astronomy tower for some reconnaissance.

Chapter Text

Yesterday, you had said goodbye to Sebastian and Ominis, who had stayed at the castle until the last possible moment.

Sebastian had given you a tight hug. Pulling away, you saw his pout. “If you find any cool secret rooms, promise to write to me?”

You grinned. “I promise.”

He had been quite jealous ever since you told him about staying for the summer, with almost no teachers to bother you.

Ominis seemed more concerned. You had to assure Ominis multiple times you wouldn’t practise any illicit spells, even until right before he got on the train, but his frown remained.

Natty and Poppy had already left, the latter pleading for you to check up on the Snidges from time to time. As soon as Ominis and Sebastian disappeared into the train, your grin fell.

They were going to stay with some distant relatives of Ominis for the summer, which was for the best. But it hurt you that they were too far to visit. Especially Sebastian.

Even after all the strain that was put on your friendship, he was the only one you could talk to about everything . Including the spells.

You stood on the platform long after the train had left the station.

Now, it was just you and Professor Sharp, whom you hadn't seen since bumping into him in front of Weasley's office. 

You used your very first day of summer vacation to do something you hadn’t done for a long, long time. Sleep in.

You stretched luxuriously and settled back into your soft pillow. It wasn’t even that late. Your internal clock had been used to late nights and early mornings for a long time.

You looked around the room you normally shared with two others. You had settled into a strange routine of small talk and head nods with both roommates, too absent to progress past that awkward phase. Still, it felt uncanny for there to be no other signs of life present.    

After classes, or the ones you attended anyway, you were out until deep in the night, crossing off items on your never-ending list of errands. When you finally came back, your roommates were long asleep, and you barely had the energy to even take off your clothes before falling into bed. In the morning, you waited until the last possible moment to leave your bed. Leaving just enough time to snatch up some wayward breakfast while hurrying to class.

It was a wonder you had even survived your O.W.L.S. You had waded through the weeks after the battle like a zombie hunched over some books, trying not to fall asleep. Safe to say, it was a welcome relief to sleep in for once.

Just as you had closed your eyes to doze off again, your owl swooped into your room to rudely drop a note onto your face. Your sluggish fingers struggled to unfold the note.

Please meet me in the potion classroom at 8 a.m.

-Professor Sharp

Your sleepy daze quickly melted into panic as you glanced at your bedside clock. It was long, long past 8. You silently cursed your lazy owl as you scrambled to get dressed. Waiting for you in the common room, there was a plate of scones. You thanked your lucky stars you were a Hufflepuff and stuffed one in your mouth and two in your robe pockets.

You sped through the hallways, struggling to put your robe on at the same time.  Walking over the viaduct, you spend just a second to take in the deliciously crisp summer air and enjoy the view. No matter how many times you saw it, the Scottish Highlands were still mind-bogglingly beautiful.

You just finished tying your tie in what resembled an adequate knot when you passed the central hall. Daylight spilt through the large windows, but still there was no student in sight.  Normally, the already massive hall would be filled with students laughing, talking and practising spells. Empty, it looked even more cavernous. 

Somewhere behind you, you heard the unmistakable giggle of Peeves. You were an easy target for him now that you were essentially the only student in the building to harass. You quickly took up your pace again.

You cursed the school for being so large. It felt like an eternity before you stood before the large oak doors of the potion classroom.

Before entering, you took a last moment to wipe the crumbs from your face and to catch your breath.

The familiar and comforting scent of dried herbs greeted you as walked in.

You spotted the professor behind his desk, starkly silhouetted against the large window in the back of the room. “You’re late,” he said at the same time you blurted out, “I’m sorry I’m late!”

“I thought the note I sent quite clearly said 8.” He turned around, hands still clasped behind his back.

“The note was only delivered after I woke up,” you explained.

He harrumphed. “We’d better start now that you are finally here.”

You cringed. The first day and you had already disappointed your professor.

Sharp was standing over a mountain of Dittany plants, just harvested, guessing from the clumps of soil still clinging to the roots. It must have been the entire supply of the Herbology greenhouse.

He didn’t waste any time instructing you on where to start. You were lucky you started with Wiggenweld, a potion you had become intimately familiar with over the past year.

This , you wouldn’t screw up at least.

As you plucked the leaves, Sharp chopped them so fine it almost resembled a paste. Soon, your fingers were stained green from the sap, and the herby aroma of the plant filled the room.

Sharp disappeared and quickly returned with a cauldron so large that you marvelled at the size.

“I could have used one of those,” you joked.

Sharp raised his eyebrow at your remark. He didn’t say anything, so you just resumed chattering.

“Would have saved me a lot of time. Must have drunk litres of the stuff,” you chuckled awkwardly. Your painful attempt at a joke didn’t do anything to disperse the tension. Rather, Sharp’s eyebrows drew together even tighter.  The silence seemed to stretch on, and you felt your cheeks gro hot. At times like this, you suspected that spending all your free time battling goblins and diving into forgotten tombs wasn’t the best way to learn how to socialise.

“Just how many times did you throw yourself into life-threatening scenarios?” he asked. “Besides... the obvious ones.”

You guessed that with “the obvious ones”, he was referring to battling Ranrok in the last repository. But he seemed to at least have an inkling of all the other shenanigans you got into over the past school year.

“Oh, just... Not-  I don’t throw myself into bad situations. “

He was giving you that deadpan stare again.

You picked up a spoon to stir the cauldron, training your gaze on the green liquid. “Wiggenweld is just very practical for the odd scrape now and then. I’m sure the hospital wing will be most pleased with the new supply." Your tone had taken on the airy cadence you normally only reserved for talking with peers when they inevitably asked you to run an impossible errand for them. 

Professor Sharp didn’t call out your obvious changing of subject, which you appreciated. Instead, he just asked, “Pass me that vial, will you?” and the conversation was closed.

The entire day passed like that. Sharp would occasionally ask you to pass him something or to move aside while he dumped something intp the bubbling cauldron. He made the potion different from what you were used to. Putting a few drops of a liquid you didn’t recognise into the mixture.

“It’s to stop the sediments from sinking to the bottom,” he explained. “It’s normally not necessary but it helps when potions sit in storage for a long time.”

When the sun was starting to set and your fingers ached from corking all the fresh bottles, Sharp finally decided that the day’s work was finished.

“You should get dinner,” he nodded at you.

You had been so caught up in the rhythm of the work that you hadn’t even noticed how hungry you were. Dinner sounded very appealing.

You didn’t know what to say to the professor.

Thank him for the productive day or something like that?

You were still trying out fitting remarks in your head when he stopped you right on the threshold.

“Good job today.”

You couldn’t contain the quirk of your lips. “Thank you, Professor.”

You disappeared through the door.

-

Eating in a giant vacant dining hall made to serve hundreds of students felt uncomfortable, to say the least.

There wasn’t anywhere to sit except at one of the large empty tables. Every scrape of your knife or clink of your glass seemed to echo against the empty walls.

Unsurprisingly, the wandering ghosts didn’t really liven up the place either.

It only took you two days before giving up and eating your meals in the kitchen. You had picked out an unobtrusive corner where you could silently eat and observe the house elves.

They were familiar with you (you also suspected Deek helped your reputation), so they didn’t seem to mind your presence.

They also didn’t try to actively engage you in conversation, or anything like that , but it was still better than eating alone. At least the noise distracted you from being alone with your thoughts. Something that had a knack for taking your appetite away.

Even though the castle was devoid of its usual students and staff, there was still enough to be done because the house elves never stopped working. You walked past them beating carpets, wiping windows and scrubbing floors. Recently, they had spent days making jam from the recently harvested strawberries.

The only thing that had the resemblance of any social interaction besides Sharp was the occasional small talk with one of the house elves in the kitchen. Apparently, next week, they were going to spend the week pickling.

The days passed, and while you and Professor Sharp had easily settled into a nice pattern together, it still lacked any of the easy conversation you were used to with your friends. Most words you exchanged were either questions about certain ingredients or to “pass that vial over there”.

You hadn’t realised how much the short but meaningful conversations with your friends had meant . Even if it had been about something as unhinged as taking down illegal smuggling rings between classes.

You often found yourself wandering into the room of requirement to see Deek and pet the animals. Or you sat at the conjured writing desk blanking on what to write to your friends other than lessons about plants or potions. You hadn’t discovered any magical hidden rooms or done anything more exciting than categorise the whole sleeping draughts section in the hospital wing. Contrary to your knowledge of secret rooms, your knowledge of potion-making skyrocketed.

Sharp kept you occupied during the days by making potions and doing homework during the evenings. You suspected it may have something to do with keeping you too busy to do any late-night exploring.

You were trying to be a good little student, but it was hard. 

If you half-heartedly rushed your essay about, for example, the different alchemical properties of spiderwebs, his censure was strict and his mood sour. 

Sharp smacked your paper down on his large desk.

“What is your excuse for this terrible work?" Sharp’s tone was harsh.

You looked down, and your messy scrawl stared back at you.

“Well?” he inquired as you stayed silent. It frankly was a pretty terrible essay. You just scrawled down some general observations. 

Every time you sat down to write, all you could think of was that cave and Deek’s friend all alone and surrounded by spiders.

Sharp's stony stare seemed to be peering into you, looking for some confession of forbidden late-night activities, but for a change, that wasn’t even the reason. You had been too busy lying on your back looking up at the artificial sky in one of the terrariums, but you weren’t about to explain that to him.

Instead, you just shrugged.

“Are you not even prepared to give an adequate response?” He was leaning closer as if demanding some answer with his brooding presence alone.

It was quite ironic that you dared face a troll, while looking into the eyes of your professor was too much.

“I don’t understand why I’m getting all these assignments anyway. Isn’t summer normally for relaxing?” you muttered.

He sighed and leaned back. “Well, this isn’t really a normal summer, is it?” He rubbed his temples, one hand still resting on the table.

You dared to peek a glance. He looked tired.

For the first time, the realisation popped up that this wasn’t his idea of an ideal summer either . You both had been saddled with this… arrangement, and now you had to deal with it. The thought didn’t make you feel any better.

“I don’t like spiders,” you confessed. “And spiderwebs. They give me the heebie-jeebies.”

Sharp sighed again, which he seemed to be doing a lot. “Well, hopefully scrubbing all the cauldron with cold water and salt will not give you the… “ heebie-Jeebies. ” He said the word with such distaste it almost made you smile.

That smile was quickly wiped off when you saw the pile of filthy cauldrons. You groaned and got to work.