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iridecsense · 2 years ago

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his brother’s keeper - m.

⤷ summary: after yet again pining for his brother’s girl, newt finds himself stuck between his brother and the woman he is in love with...quite literally.

𓇬 word count: 8.0k 𓇬 pairing: theseus scamander | fem!reader | newt scamander 𓇬 genre: smut, porn with a little plot 𓇬 rating: 18+ 𓇬 warnings: profanity, depictions of spiked drinks 𓇬 kinks: voyeur, cuckholding, breeding, creampie, menage et toi, oral (fem recieving), anal mdom/femsub/msub 𓇬 author’s note: Something you can think of as a sequel to rumors, or a stand alone one shot. I will definitely not see the pearly gates after this, I am so sorry in advance! I may be a bit rusty so please be gentle and accept this late Christmas gift as a New Years surprise. Expect more from me soon. ;)

It was usually in conditions like these, when the streets of London were slick with cool wet, and the biting cold spread mist from hot mouths filled the air, that made a time meant for cheer and love, one of desolate solitude for those less fortunate. Whatever the circumstances may be, it is in these times Newt Scamander often found himself alone. Though, if you were to ask him yourself he would deny the accusation and snarkily ask if one could ever be truly alone when surrounded by magnificent creatures. Despite the best efforts of his brother, who cared for him most earnestly, Newt hadn’t spent the holidays with him in years.

He had his reasons to be sure. Back when Theseus was engaged with his childhood friend Leta, there was no doubt an awkwardness. The younger Scamander brother was in love with the Lestrange girl. To see his brother have what he had longed for since he first met her put a strain on his heart. Newt was not bold in any sense of the word. Being forward with a woman never came easy to him. When he’d lost the chance to win Leta’s heart he swore that when he found himself enamored by another woman he would make it clear to her his affections. In came Tina Goldstein, an American auror who he found himself entangled with on a trip overseas. He felt something for her—a kind of attraction that was different from the one he felt for Leta, but an attraction nonetheless. Tina was tall and beautiful and treated him with more respect than anyone ever had. But even that effort fell short. Tina had become more dedicated to her work and her sister. There was no room for him in her life at the moment. The two drifted apart succeeding the events of Grindelwald's rally in Paris. He returned to London, and she to her own affairs. That had been nearly three years ago. Newt did well on his own, he felt. His creatures keep him busy enough. Getting through the day was easy. The nights were the hardest. At night there wasn't anything busying his mind from thinking of you. Newt started to believe he was cursed to always fall in love with women he couldn't have. Whoever it was must have been especially cruel to make him fall for his brother’s girlfriends. That could be the only explanation. Otherwise, he was just a sick, perverted man who desperately needed therapy. Little did he know two things can be true. It wasn’t as though it were intentional. When it came to Leta, he had loved her first. Theseus just happened to get her. You, however, was something he did not expect. He was acquainted with you, only knowing and conversing with you when Leta was involved, considering you were her friend. It wasn't until she died that he got to know you better. During that time, Newt stayed with his brother and swore to stay by his side and help him and the ministry in capturing Grindelwald. Theseus grieved, and Newt was there to care for him, and so were you. You would come by with food and insist on helping clean the apartment. The gesture was kind, especially when you were going through your own grief. Newt wondered if you used your kindness and instinct to help others as a way to distract yourself from the pain you truly felt. He was able to prove his theory right after many nights alone, drinking gin and fire whiskey, when he got to know you more intimately. Theseus never knew, but in those first few months he spent grieving, Newt had grown rather fond of you. You were funny, kind, a great cook, and you listened to him, something no one else really did. The day he discovered your relationship with his brother he was disappointed, to say the least. Once again, Theseus had managed to take someone else he cared about. Newt often wondered how different things would have been if he had kissed you that night as you so desperately wanted him to. The same night when you had drank one too many gin and tonics and found the Scamander family album hidden in Theseus’s bookshelf. That night you somehow wound up on top of his lap, flipping through embarrassing baby pictures and evidence of his pubescent awkwardness. You were too drunk to notice how tense he was underneath you, or how with every shift of movement, or every laugh you chuckled, your ass pressed against his crotch. When you came across a picture of Newt his mother had taken of him on the first day working at the Ministry when he was sixteen, you gushed over how ‘adorable’ he looked. Newt blushed. Then you said something he didn't expect. “I see what Leta meant. You were always cute.” Newt didn't know what to say. You positioned your head on his shoulder to look up at him. Newt was never good at eye contact, but he found it hard to tear his eyes away from yours. “You have pretty eyes,” you slurred suddenly with a smile stretched across your lips. He could smell the alcohol on your breath your faces were so close. “So do you,” he said, surprising himself with his own brazenness. It was true. You had two pretty (e/c) eyes like none he’d ever seen, even when they fluttered and stared blankly up at him in an intoxicated daze. But it was only with the help of the three glasses of gin he had earlier that helped him say it aloud. Your smile grew wider. Your hand went to cup his left cheek. “I never understood Leta,” you mumbled. “How could anyone look past you?” He’d wanted it so bad. To feel your lips against his would be his greatest reward after all he’d been through, after all his shortcomings. If he were a lesser man he would have taken advantage of your drunkenness. But you could barely sit up on your own, and he couldn’t tell how long it would be before you lost consciousness and fell asleep on the couch as you had done several times before. “Kiss me, Newt,” you asked. “Please.” It was the first sentence you hadn't slurred since the gin entered your bloodstream. In a moment of weakness, his hand caressed your cheek. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip and he heard your breath hitch in your throat. You were so beautiful and there you were, begging him to kiss you. Begging for something more by the way you pressed your body into him and looked desperately at his lips through half-lidded eyes. And maybe if he had four gin and tonics instead of three he would have given you what you wanted. But he was more sober than you and he respected you far too much to take advantage of you in your current state. What he had to do afterward took all his restraint. The next day you greeted him in the kitchen with the same kind smile you always gave him as you prepared breakfast. The matter was never brought up again and Newt assumed you simply didn't remember. He saw no point in bringing it up himself. Before he knew it, it was too late. Theseus had set his eyes on you and wasted no time claiming you as his. Newt could not touch you, no matter how badly he wanted to. And so, once again, Newt found himself in love with his brother’s girl. Constantly keeping her on his mind, constantly yearning for her, but always stepping back. He was still close to you, which only made it harder. For the past year, he’s kept the secret of that night. But that wouldn't stop him from thinking of it, and all that could have been, just as he was doing now, lying in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. If only he could have you with him now and feel your skin on his, taste the salt of your sweat, and feel the heat of your body. He could only imagine. But even in his imagination he was the happiest man on earth. Theseus must have felt like God. Unbeknownst to him, he would get a taste of that feeling the very next day. In the morning when he woke up, he found an owl waiting for him with a letter. It was an invitation, from you no less, to join you and Theseus for a Christmas dinner later that evening. In truth, Newt had been so busy tending to his creatures the past week he had forgotten how close Christmas was approaching, let alone that it was Christmas Day. The thought of spending an evening with you was enticing. It was Theseus’s presence that made him second guess. He loved his brother, that was no question. He probably loved his brother more than anyone else in the world, which is why he could sit silently as he continuously watched him have everything he ever wanted with no protest. That didn't mean it was easy. It was hard to see you with him, even harder than when he had to endure Leta with him. At least then he had Tina as a distraction. Now there was only you and he could see no one else better than you. Had it been Theseus who sent the letter he wouldn't have agreed to stop by. He might not have even replied. But since it was you, and only because it was you, he sent an owl confirming his arrival. On the other side of things, you were ecstatic. It had been some time since you'd seen Newt and you considered him one of your closest friends. You knew Theseus would love having his little brother visit for Christmas and felt it would be the perfect present for him. You had told Newt to come a couple of hours earlier than when you would be expecting Theseus. When you opened the door you greeted him with a bright, toothy smile and open arms. Newt hugged you back awkwardly and stepped inside. “Everything is cooking in the oven now,” you said. “I’m just finishing up the pie for dessert. Come, have a drink in the kitchen.” Newt followed behind you. You looked adorable in the tacky red and green Christmas sweater you wore over your long white dress. You made him a drink and started on your creme pie. “It’s so good to see you, Newt,” you told him. “I was afraid you couldn’t make it. I know how busy your creatures keep you.” “It’s good to see you too,” he replied. “Bunty insisted she stay and help while I am away. She claimed she had no other plans.” You pouted your lips. “That’s awful!” You said. “You should have told me! I would have gladly invited Bunty over if I knew. No one should be alone on Christmas.” Newt smiled softly. There you go again, always thinking of others. As the two of you sat in the kitchen you caught each other up on your lives. Things were going great for you, Newt discovered. You had recently gotten a promotion and received a medal for your efforts spying abroad for your department and gathering intel on Grindelwald and his acolytes. Newt told you about his own travels abroad, searching for and rescuing creatures whenever he could while doing his own work for Dumbledore to support the cause. He told you stories of the places he’d been and the creatures he’d seen, even promising to let you visit his home to see them for yourself. “They’d love you,” he said. Before he knew it, the two of you were sharing a glass of wine on the couch while the food kept warm. Then you shared another, and another, and another while you both waited for Theseus to return. “He works later these days,” you tell Newt. “There’ve been days where he doesn't come home at all. Just stays up there, drooling over papers in his office. I worry about him sometimes.” “That’s my brother,” he says. “Always working harder than anyone else. Always having something to prove. In some ways I’m jealous.” You chuckled. “Jealous? How so?” “He’s always so,” Newt paused, searching his brain for the right word. “Dedicated. Determined. He sets his mind on something and won't stop until he does it. He’s always been like that.” You turned to face him next to you on the couch, sitting on your legs and propping your elbow on the back of the couch to lean your head against your hand. You peer at him quizzically. “But you’re like that too.” Newt scoffed. “No I’m not,” he chuckled as he took a sip of his wine. “Yes, you are!” You insist. “You’re very determined and dedicated to your animals. You have done things many others are too afraid to do; all to protect the things you love. Even Theseus admits you are much better suited to be an auror than he is.” Newt raised a curious brow, a coy smile on his face. “Really?” You nod. “He’s very amazed by you—admires you, even. As do I. You’re very brave, Newt. No one is more determined or dedicated than you.” “There is one person,” Newt muttered. “Who?” You asked, genuinely curious about his answer, prepared to playfully berate him for his humbleness. “Theseus.” “Well, he doesn't seem to think so,” you say. “But he is,” Newt quipped, whipping his head to look you in the eye. The energy in the room shifted, and though both your brains were fuzzy from wine, you could tell the moment had gone from playful to serious. “He is,” he continued. “He wanted to become head boy and he did. He strived to be the best auror at the ministry and he is. He wanted Leta and he got her, and when he wanted you, he got you.” You were silent as you listened, unsure of where exactly Newt was going with his ramblings. “I could never do that,” he admitted. “If I could, you would be with me now, not him.” Now it was the wine talking. You were surprised. Newt’s face was red, but at this point, it wasn't clear if it was because he was embarrassed, frustrated, or tipsy. “What do you mean, Newt?” You asked, your voice soft and sweet. His expression softened, and he looked at you in such a way your heart fluttered in your chest. “You are so beautiful,” he proclaimed, making your face burn hotter than it already was. “I should have told you that a long time ago. If I were as forthright as Theseus I would have told you I loved you the night we almost kissed a year ago on this couch.” Newt chuckled at your stunned expression, unable to say a word. “You don’t remember, but you were beautiful then too. You sat right here in my lap and you held my face in your hand and begged me to kiss you. I would have if you weren’t intoxicated. I wanted to talk to you about it the next day but you had already forgotten—” “I didn't forget,” you spoke finally. Now it was Newt’s turn to be surprised. “What?” You put your wine glass down on the coffee table and scooted closer to Newt on the couch. Your knees touched his thigh, but neither of you moved. “I didn't forget,” you repeat, clearer this time. “We were drinking while Theseus was asleep in his room one night. I had found your family album and we looked at it together when I asked you to kiss me.” Newt frowned. “If you remember then why didn't you say anything?” “I was embarrassed,” you reveal. “When you didn't kiss me I thought that I made a fool of myself. That you rejected me. When you didn't say anything afterwards I figured that was it. That you just wanted to forget and stay as friends.” Newt couldn't believe his ears. All this time you had remembered that night and thought he held no feelings for you. He was spiraling in his head, you could tell by the way he distantly stared into his glass of wine. “Newt?” You called out to him, taking his glass and replacing it with your hand. “This is what I mean,” he said finally. “I wasn't determined. If I were like Theseus I would have talked to you regardless of whether or not I thought you remembered. I would have told you how wonderful it felt holding you in my arms and how desperately I wanted to press my lips against yours and taste you on my tongue. I would have told you how much I love you.” Your stomach turned excitedly at Newt’s words. You squeezed his hand tightly. “Newt...” He stopped, realizing what he just said. “I...I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t know why I’m saying these things.” “That would be the veritaserum in the wine,” said a deep voice behind him. Newt turned around and found his brother, Theseus, standing under the archway to the foyer. “Theseus,” He stammered and quickly stood to his feet. “No need to get up, brother,” he said calmly. “It wasn’t as if I didn’t know.” On the couch, you held up the wine bottle and inspected it. “How did veritaserum get into the wine?” “I drugged it,” Theseus said simply as he walked past Newt and took a seat across from the couch in an armchair. “Why the hell would you do that?” You asked Theseus angrily. “Because this morning you said Newt accepted your invitation to dinner. Because I knew the real reason why Newt hasn't visited me in months is that he feels guilty for loving you knowing you’re with me,” he explained. “And I didn't want to have a Christmas dinner with a brother who resents me and sulks across the table pining for you. So, I put veritaserum in the wine I knew you wanted to drink tonight and left the two of you alone, hoping my baby brother would finally confess his feelings. And he did! Now we all know.” You shot up from your seat and glared at Theseus. “This is cruel Theseus. You had no right!” “I will admit it was slightly unethical, but I don’t see the harm in it. Aren’t you glad that Newt confessed his feelings?” “Yes,” you answered instantly, though, of course, not of your own free will. Theseus then turned to Newt. “And don't you feel better having finally told her?” “Yes,” Newt admitted. Theseus smiled. “Good! Now everything’s better.” “You aren't upset?” Asked Newt. Theseus looked at him as though he were confused. “Why would I be upset?” “You’re not upset that I’m in love with your girlfriend?” Theseus pursed his lips in thought before shifting his eyes to the half-empty bottle of wine. Standing to his feet, he walked towards the coffee table and grabbed the bottle by the neck. He took a swing of the truth-spiked wine and put it back down. “Why don’t you ask me again.” He said. “You’re not upset that I love y/n?” Newt once again asked. Theseus smiled almost tenderly at his brother. “No.” The older brother walked back to his chair and sat down, leaving you and Newt stupefied. “I do, however, wonder how you feel, darling.” He said, now turning his attention to you. You furrowed your brows. “Me?” “Do you love Newt back?” Asked Theseus. Newt’s eyes fell on you. Your mouth opened and took a breath in preparation of your answer, but it closed as soon as it happened. Your glare on Theseus sharpened. “What are you playing at, Theseus?” “Don’t try fighting it,” he said. “You won't be able to lie so just answer. Do you love him?” Your eyes flickered over and connected with Newt’s, who was looking at you expectingly. Your eyes softened and the tenseness in your shoulders fell away. “Yes,” you whispered. Newt couldn't believe his ears. Everything happening at this moment felt surreal. Just a few minutes ago he thought he had embarrassed himself once again, having confessed his feelings to his brother’s girlfriend right in front of him. He was prepared to be punched and thrown out and for his brother to hate him for the rest of his life. But instead of being angry, Theseus was encouraging him. He encouraged you and finally, he got to hear you say words he’d only dreamt of you saying. You loved him. Oddly enough, despite how it came about, Newt couldn't be happier. “Kiss her.” Newt was pulled from his thoughts and his shared gaze with you. You both turned and looked at Theseus who sat cooly in the armchair. “Didn’t you hear what she said?” He asked. “She loves you! Stop standing there like an idiot and kiss her!” “Theseus—” you began to speak, but Theseus stopped you. “It’s okay, love,” he assured you with his gentlest voice. “Let him kiss you.” The energy in the room for the second time that night, all because of Theseus, who ironically was the calmest person in the room. But there was something about the aura permeating from him that domineered over everyone else. His gaze burned into them as he stared, waiting for Newt to do as he commanded. Every part of him wanted to turn around and walk out the front door and never speak of this again. He would go home and lay in his bed and do his best to fall asleep and forget everything that happened here tonight. Every part except the one that wanted to turn to his side, take you in his arms, and kiss you the way he should have that night. It was that part of him that won over all his better judgments. In an instant, Newt’s lips were on yours. He held your face in his hands and pressed his body flat against yours. You were taken aback. You’d even yelped when his lips first touched yours. It was a while before your body finally relaxed and you closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss. Your lips began to move with his and he felt your hands lightly grip the sides of his waist, still unsure. Theseus leaned back in his chair and said nothing as he watched. Newt’s tongue darted from between his lips and licked a stripe over your own. Your mouth opened for him willingly and he wasted no time exploring your mouth. He moaned at the taste of you. The feeling of your tongue swirling around his made his cock twitch in his pants. You could feel it against your thigh and your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t stop,” ordered Theseus with his hand over his pants, palming at the growing hardness straining against the fabric. Newt kept his mouth on yours, only moving his grip around your face down to your hips. Your hands fisted the fabric of his shirt and you pressed your body into him, yearning to be closer. Newt stumbled back until the backs of his legs hit the couch and he broke away from the kiss to sit down. He spread his legs outwards and pulled you down onto his lap. You straddled his waist and his hips bucked upwards, longing to connect. A soft moan fell from your lips and he swore hadn't heard a more beautiful sound. Soon lips were back on yours. “Tell her how pretty she is, Newt,” Theseus instructed. Newt pulled from your feverish kiss and pushed your hair from around your face. “You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he said. You looked down at him through half-lidded eyes dilated with lust. Your lips twitched into a smile as you began salaciously grinding your hips against him, feeling the bulge of his dick against your slick heat. Newt hissed and watched you from below, moving his hips along with you, admiring your form hovering above him as you pulled your sweater over your head and threw it on the floor. “Show him just how beautiful you are, sweetheart,” Theseus commanded. His voice was low and husky. He watched the two of you closely, palming his own arousal. It was of no concern to the two of you, however. Newt was so encompassed by you he could barely pay any mind to his brother watching across the room. Of course, there were thoughts screaming in the back of his head telling him how fucked this whole situation was, but they were nothing more than muted whispers compared to you rubbing against his cock. Just as Theseus commanded you showed Newt how beautiful you were when you took a hand and pulled down one of the straps to your white dress and freed your arm, repeating the same to the other. Taking his hands from your waist you brought them to your chest and helped him pull your dress down around your waist, revealing your breasts. You felt Newt’s cock jump at the sight of you. He could only stare slack-jawed as you placed his hands over your beasts and guided him in pressing them against each other in a continuous circular motion while you rubbed your clothed clit against him. Your soft pants filled his ears as his low grunts filled yours. “Newt...” His name fell breathlessly from your lips. He had pumped his cock to the thought of you moaning his name many times before, but it barely held a candle to what it felt like to hear the real thing. Your name fell from his lips just as easily and he once again captured your lips in a heated kiss while he massaged your breasts. Across the room, Theseus had his hand wrapped around his cock, slowly sliding it up and down as he watched his girlfriend shamelessly hump his little brother. You were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. The way your hips moved against Newt could rival even the best of strippers. Your pretty moans filled his ears and he couldn’t help but reminisce about the many times he'd made those same sounds come out of you. To hear it in person is a gift. To feel your lips was a blessing. To feel your tight cunt wrapped around his cock was the best thing a man could ever feel. There is no greater present than fucking you, and Newt didn’t even realize that Theseus had just given his brother the best Christmas gift a man could ask for. “Tell her what you’re thinking, Newt,” Theseus breathed. Newt licked his lips. He did his best to gather his thoughts which were wall focused on you. “Go on,” you said through shaky breaths. “Tell me.” Newt moaned and pressed a trail of kisses on your bare shoulder and neck. “I’m thinking about how amazing you are,” he grunted out. “I’m thinking about how long I’ve wanted you and how good it feels to finally have you.” You loved hearing Newt praise you. You loved the feeling of his hands and lips on your hot skin. “Keep going,” you urged, moving your hands up his chest to unbutton his shirt. “I think you’re perfect. I think that Theseus doesn't realize how lucky he is to have you,” he said boldly, piquing both your and Theseus’s interest. “You should have been mine. I would take good care of you—f-fuck!” You had reached the top of his pants and unbuckled his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling out his hardened length. He wasn’t bigger than Theseus, but he certainly was thicker. Your hand slid up and down his shaft, only stopping to collect the precum leaking from his tip on your finger to put them in your mouth. He watched in awe as you licked and sucked your fingers clean. “God, I want you,” he growled in your ear as your hand reached for his cock. “I want to be inside you. I want to feel you,” he said through labored breaths. “Give him what he wants, love” Theseus spoke up. “Let him feel you.” You sat up on your knees and hovered over his hips. Pulling your panties to the side with one hand you used the other to guide Newt’s member to your center. Both your breaths caught in your throats when he entered, stretching you open with his thick cock. Feeling you around him was unlike anything he could ever dream or hope. You were slick with arousal and he easily slid in and out of you, filling you up in all the right places. Your moans filled the room as Newt sucked on the supple skin of your neck. His hands and fingernails dug into your soft skin as he held you close and it felt as though the two of you were the only ones in the room. Newt’s name sweetly slipped past your lips. Yours flittered through the air from his own. His hips rolled into yours with a precision you had no idea he was capable of. If he’d allowed it, the two of you would have lost yourselves in each other, forgetting the third presence in the room. But that wasn't going to happen. Standing from his seat, Theses moved towards the couple and took a seat next to them on the couch, his hand still wrapped around his dick. “Does it feel good, my love?” He asked you. “Yes,” you breathed. “Does my little brother make you feel good? Do you love the way his cock stretches your tight little hole?” You moaned at his dirty words, lulling your head back as Newt's lips wrapped around your nipple. “Y-yes,” you stammered, your hips rocking faster against Newts. “I love it. I love the way he feels inside me.” “I know you do,” Theseus hummed, his breaths hastening. “You want him to make you cum don’t you, baby?” You nodded excitedly and Theseus smirked. “Newt, help her cum,” he said. “She likes it when you speak to her. It turns her on hearing all the dirty things you’re going to do to her.” “Is that true?” Newt asked you once he pulled his lips from your pert nipples. “You want to hear all the things I want to do to you? Like how I’m gonna fuck your sweet cunt until you’re shaking a quivering under me? How...How I’m gonna fill you up so full with my cum you’ll end up with twins!” He and Theseus laughed. “See,” Theseus chuckled as he lifted the fabric of your skirt to reveal the sight of Newt’s cock pumping in and out of you. “She likes it! Look, she’s so wet your cock is soaked!” Newt looked down and marveled at how wet you were. You took him so well and his cock disappeared inside you with ease. Newt held the skirts of your dress up so he could watch—so they could both watch. Theseus’s hand rubbed the inside of your thigh. “Do you want me to touch you too, baby?” He asked politely. You opened your eyes to look at your handsome boyfriend. He had long since undone his tie and unbuttoned his own shirt. His large cock was being tugged by his right hand and you nearly drooled at the sight of it, suddenly missing the feeling of having it shoved down your throat. You loved it when Theseus touched you. His hands were always precise, knowing exactly where to pinch, caress, and stroke. Like how he was rubbing your thigh right now, knowing how sensitive the skin on that area was for you. Your eyes connected and you ached seeing how dark his once baby-blue eyes had become. “Yes,” you nodded. Theseus wasted no time pressing his fingers on your aching clit. He rubbed your most sensitive part while his hand teased his own cock. Between his fingers and Newt’s dick plunging deep inside you, your body buzzed with pleasure. The air in the room grew hot and sticky and a symphony of soft moans, grunts, and pants melded with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the slick wetness of your dripping cunt. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening and your eyes shut, desperately chasing that feeling. “Are you close, darling?” Newt asked once he felt you tighten around him. “Y-yes!” Theseus’s fingers rubbed faster to help you get there. “Watch her, Newt,” he urged. “When she comes, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see.” Newts darkened hazel eyes trained on you. His grip around the dress wrapped around your waist tightened and her wrapped it around his arm and held your hips steady. His hips snapped upwards, changing pace. You bounced on his cock, your moans growing louder and louder. “Cum for me, please,” Newt begged, now reaching his own release. “Let me see it. I want to see it. Show me, my love. Show me how beautiful you are when you cum. Please show me.” He pressed open-mouthed kisses on your chest and neck, his eyes never leaving your face. Theseus’s breaths quickened as well, his pace on his cock matching the pace of your hips rising and sinking on Newt’s member. One of your hands wrapped around the base of Newt’s neck, taking a fist full of his hair. The other grabbed Theseus’s wrist and held his hand in place over your clit. A few more pumps and several flicks was all it took for your body to seize up, tightening around Newt's cock as your whole body trembled. Your moans caught in your throat, struggling to escape. The knot inside your stomach had broke and you came harder than you ever had in your life. Newt came not long after you, sputtering your name as he did so and holding your hips down, burying his dick deeper inside you and making sure every drop of his cum spilled inside. “F-fuck,” he choked out. Theseus had cum too, clear, white ribbons of his seed spilled into his hand and onto his abs. He wiped up what had spilled with two fingers and held it up to your lips. You were still dizzy from your orgasm, but it didn't stop you from obediently opening your mouth to suck Theseus’s cum from his fingers. Newt watched as you did this. Your skilled tongue licked and wrapped around Theseus’s long fingers promiscuously, ensuring you cleaned up every last drop. It was enough to get him hard and twitching inside you again. “That’s a good girl,” praised Theseus with a smile on his lips. “Isn’t she a good girl, Newt?” “The best,” Newt agreed. Theseus pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue by reaching up and pulling you into a deep kiss. It was slow and purposeful, as if he were trying to show off in front of Newt who had no choice but to watch uncomfortably as your tongues swirled passionately in each other’s mouths, earning your soft whimpers. Inside, he hated how much it turned him on. As you both pulled away, you captured Theseus’s bottom lip between your teeth and playfully tugged it away before letting go. Theseus’s hand quickly flew to tightly wrap around your neck, keeping your eyes trained on him. He smirked. “Look at you, darling. Still asking for more. Aren't you tired?” Your hand reached down to grip his cock as an answer, making him laugh. His grip around your neck tightened. “What? Was my brother’s cock not enough for you? You need to have mine as well? Or perhaps you want us both at the same time. Is that it? You need me and my brother to fuck you senseless like the greedy little cock whore you are?” You clenched at the thought of having both Scamander brothers filling you up at once. Newt felt it and your increasing arousal started to drip down his balls. “I think she does,” said Newt. “Will that satisfy you, my love? If Theseus and I fucked you within an inch of your life and pumped your selfish cunt full of cum? Tell us you want it.” You’d never seen this side of Newt. You didn't even think he was capable of saying such filthy things. He was always so sweet and temperate, being shyer than demiguise. But here he was, spurring you on with his debaucherous words. It only made you want him more. “I want it,” you say and salaciously grind your hips into Newt, making him hiss due to how sensitive he still was. “Beg,” Theseus demanded. “Tell us how badly you want it.” Your cheeks burned red hot from embarrassment. Theseus smirked mischievously because he loved watching you squirm. You always begged so nicely for him with your pouty lips and round doe eyes. His little princess. He only wanted Newt to see and appreciate it too. “Please,” you begged shamelessly. “I want to feel you both inside me. I need to feel it. I want it so bad. I want to make you both feel good.” “You want to make us feel good?” Theseus repeated. “Such a sweet little girl you are, wanting to please us. But we all know your secret.” Theseus turned to Newt. “Should we give her what she wants?” He asked. Newt looked up at your pleading eyes, so sweet and innocent despite them begging for him to fuck you. How could he ever deny you? “Yes,” he said finally. With that, Theseus picked you up with ease and carried you upstairs to the bedroom. Newt followed behind and once Theseus placed you on the bed he began fully stripping himself of his clothes. Newt followed his brother’s actions, closing the door behind him and peeling off his shirt and pants. You watched them under the candlelight, admiring the two beautiful brothers and their different bodies. You’d seen Theseus naked a hundred times before but it never ceased to excite you. He was large in every sense of the word. He was tall and had a wide, muscular chest with strong arms and thighs to match. Newt’s body was new and different. Newt was tall as well, only a couple inches shorter than his older brother. Surprisingly, Newt was more muscular and lean. His abs were more pronounced and taut in comparison. Both brothers were freckled, the younger of the two having more of them with accompanying scars. They were beautiful. Having two gorgeous men naked in front of you made you feel nervous and self-conscious. Without realizing it, you had pulled your dress up to cover your body. But Theseus was having none of that. He crawled over to you on the bed, moving your hands and pulling your dress back down to your waist. Newt sat on the bed as well and pulled the dress down the rest of the way, discarding it on the floor. Theseus trailed kisses up your stomach, chest, neck, and face until he reached your lips. He kissed you passionately and tenderly, reaching for your right hand to intertwine his fingers with yours while Newt peppered soft kisses up your legs and thighs. Their attempt at relaxing you and distracting you from your thoughts worked, and you melded with them both. “Theseus...” you whispered against his lips because you knew how much he liked hearing it. He shushed you, pecking the corners of your lips. “Just relax, darling,” he muttered. His hand left yours to grab your thigh, spreading your legs apart. Newt’s kisses lingered on your inner thigh, nipping, sucking, and biting the sensitive flesh. You trembled under their touch, not sure what to expect next. Theseus hovered over you on your right, covering you with kisses and massaging your breasts while Newt neared dangerously close to your core. “Such a sweet girl,” Theseus said between kisses. “I wonder if she tastes just as sweet,” said Newt. “She does,” Theseus confirmed. “But you’ll just have to taste for yourself.” The sudden feeling of Newt’s warm tongue licking a licentious stripe along your heat made you gasp. He kissed and sucked on your lower lips, occasionally darting his tongue in and out of your entrance. He licked up and down your dripping cunt before finally swirling his tongue around your clit. Your hips bucked and twitched as he drew figure-eights with his tongue over your sensitive bud. Theseus held your right leg while Newt held down your left, ensuring you kept your legs open for them. “F-fuck, Newt,” you sighed and closed your eyes, resting your head back into the fluff of the pillow. Theseus was sucking the skin at the crook of your neck, determined to leave a mark. His hand on your thigh trailed closer and closer to your center until his skilled fingers reached your entrance under Newt's chin. He easily slid his longest digit inside and curled it upwards, instantly finding that spot he knew so well. He pumped his finger in and out, making sure to brush against your g-spot. Soon he added another finger and quickened his pace. Between Newt’s assault on your clit and Theseus’s fingers deep inside you, you were ambushed by another orgasm. White flashed behind your eyes and your hips spasmed. Newt sucked on your clit and Theseus vigorously fingered your hole as you rode out your high until you became too sensitive to touch and begged them to stop. “No, no, no, baby,” Theseus muttered in your ear. “We can’t stop now,” he said. “We haven't ‘fucked you within an inch of your life’ yet.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. They weren't done with you yet. Newt came up from between your legs and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Can you taste it?” he asked. “Your sweetness. I can’t get enough of it. I don’t think I ever will.” Your lips chased his, wanting him to kiss you deeper. You were sandwiched between the two men, Theseus at your back, and Newt before you. You felt Theseus’s cock press flush against your ass while Newt's poked between your legs. “Are you ready for us, darling?” Theseus asked as he nibbled at your ear. “Yes,” you answered against Newt’s lips before he slid his tongue back down your throat. Being as gentle as they could, the two brothers eased their cocks inside of you, introducing you to a whole new sensation. You had never been stretched out like this, with two cocks filling your holes at once. It was strange and slightly uncomfortable at first. They knew this, which is why they took their time, distracting you with their mouths and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and ensuring you were okay. “You’re doing so well,” they’d say. “You feel so good.” “You’re so wonderful, darling.” “Are we hurting you, sweetheart?” “Relax for us, my love.” Theseus’s hand once again found your clit and he began lightly circling it with his fingers to give you some relief. It didn't take long for it to work and your body opened up for them with ease. They pushed deeper inside, inch by inch until they were fully sheathed in your flesh. They both whispered their own set of curses, letting out soft grunts and moans as they began slowly rocking their hips into you. “Fuuuck,” Theseus moaned. “This ass is so fucking tight. You’re being so good for us, darling.” “So, so good, love,” panted Newt. “You make us feel so good.” Your high-pitched mewls and pretty sighs were like music to their ears. They completely engulfed you, body and soul. The world simply slipped away and nothing else mattered besides them, Theseus and Newt, making you feel better than you had ever felt before. You couldn't get enough of them, nor could they get enough of you. You were intoxicated by their scent, their bodies, and their moans. In your minds, you all tried to comprehend how lucky you all were to be in this moment. Nothing could be better than this. Nothing. “This is it, isn't it?” Theseus panted in your ear. “Your secret. You’ve always wanted this. To have your holes stretched out by our cocks. Does it excite you, my darling, fucking two brothers? One just wasn't enough, was it? You had to have both. Well, now you have it. Now you’re taking our cocks like the good little girl you are, just like you wanted because we decided to give it to you. You should thank us. Go on and thank us, darling. Tell us how much you appreciate being filled up and fucked, blinded by your own pleasure.” “T-th...Thank you,” you choked out, tears brimming your waterline. “Thank you so much! I wanted this. I always wanted this!” “Good girl,” Newt praised, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Such a good, good, girl for us. We’re glad to give it to you...Whatever you want, y/n. Whatever you want—a-ah!” Newt’s thrusts got faster and sloppier, as did Theseus’s. They both worked hard to bury themselves deep inside you. It came to a point where both their cocks were brushing against your g-spot, one after the other. You felt the knot in your core again, that delicious, evanescent knot tightening, ticking like a bomb about to explode and send you to your euphoric escape. “Oh, God!” You gasped, digging your nails into the skin of Newt’s back and Theseus’s thighs. “Don’t stop! P-please...right there! S-Shit, I love you!” You proclaimed. “Both of you. God, I love both of you so much!” This seemed to excite them even more, something you didn't know was possible. They thrust into you faster than they ever had before, their winded breaths filling your ears. “I love you,” Newt breathed. “So...so much...More than anything.” He kissed your lips. “I love you too, darling,” grunted Theseus. “My sweet girl...Always.” He kissed your lips too. In that moment the three of you bonded, body and soul. You all came at once, their bodies falling flush against you, twitching in satisfaction. For a while you just lay there as they held you and listened to the sound of their breaths while you waited for the sweet, buzzing feeling to dim. When it did, Theseus got up to fetch a towel from the bathroom, leaving you and Newt cuddled up on the bed, whispering sweetly to one another. They helped clean you up and embraced you with their warmth. You just stared at them, sharing kisses, twirling hair, giggling, holding hands, and gazing lovingly into their eyes. There wasn't much to say. You all knew. You didn’t need to say it. You could feel it in the room. You were complete. “Do you smell something burning?” Theseus asked suddenly. You and Newt sniffed the air and your eyes widened like saucers. “THE FUCKING TURKEY!” You gasped, and struggled your way out from between your two lovers, picking one of their shirts from off the floor to cover yourself as you ran downstairs to save what was left of your forgotten Christmas dinner. Newt and Theseus smiled to themselves and chuckled. There was an awkward silence as they lay there alone, both unsure of what to say or do next. “I do know how lucky I am, by the way.” Theseus was the first to speak. “I know,” said Newt. Theseus turned to his brother. “You can be lucky too...If you want.” Newt blinked, not fully believing he’d heard what he thought he heard. “She loves you,” said Theseus. “She loves you too,” Newt reminded him. “I know. And we both love her.” “And we both love her.” It was as simple as that. “Thank you, Theseus,” said Newt. Theseus scoffed and playfully pushed Newt’s shoulder. “Happy Christmas, Newt.” “Happy Christmas, Theseus.”

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saintsstranger · 1 year ago

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the art of lies | t.s. (fantastic beasts) - chapter one

Summary: all your life you had been handling the dirty truth, and here he comes presenting you with his sweet lies.

Pairings: Theseus Scamander x Fem!Reader

genre: romance, mature audience intended

warnings: mature themes, implied sexual content, sexworker protagonist, pleasure house (brothel), smoking

the art of lies masterlist

IN THE ABSENCE OF DAYLIGHT, Paris comes alive, after all, it is known as the City of Love.

Love in the form of freshly picked flowers from the florist.

The sweetest chocolate that tickled your taste buds.

Hand-written poems that rivaled world-renowned poets.

A love so sweet and tender that it caresses you gently in the night

But that certainly wasn’t the truth, it never was. Love wasn’t like that.

Love was the thorns that hid beneath the roses.

Love was the bitter taste that lingered in your mouth after your first dark chocolate.

Love was the letter from lovers that had written goodbyes instead of ‘I’ll stay’.

Love was the harsh tug of your hair, the rough hands that hold your wrists, saying the words ‘You are so beautiful’ only when you are in the middle of the bed, spread willingly to the desires of man.

Here, in Paris, is nothing but filled with nights of debauchery where all senses are thrown out the window. The sickening smell of expensive perfume and wine drowning you in the world of sins. And Paris was notable for it, here you are free! Or so they say.

Truth be told, you could never be free, always staying in hiding from the Non-Magiques. And here you were indebted to your handler, Madame Blanche, the owner of the renowned luxurious Maison close ‘Amour Délicat’.

Like her name, the whites in her hair and the sharp look in her eyes tell her story. She was a former courtesan before and when the first war of the non-magiques happened there she learned something that would give birth to her only child, the Amour Délicat. When she shared the truth of what was happening in the world of the non-magiques to the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France (Ministry of Magical Affairs of France), Madame Blanche was greatly compensated, and there from the ground up, she built her history.

Madame Blanche is far from the harsh and ruthless handlers in the non-magiques world of prostitution; she is commanding and ruthless. When she saw the reality of the world, it opened her mind to do whatever it takes to protect herself, and that is by being well-known that you create a sense of security in being seen. Here she opened her doors to those willing to work for her, at first, many were wary as to join and take employment, the look of disdain and gossip were indeed not for the faint of heart.

And you who had nothing to lose, took the first bite and jumped straight into death potion.

You, who only had your name and the clothes you wore on your back crawled straight inside Pandora’s box.

Madame Blanche had saved you, she had given you a roof, food, clothes, and the protection that you needed. The life you formerly had was long gone; it was all in the past, thrown into the sea to be forgotten.

And here you learn to be a great witch. She first-hand, had taught you how to be a legilimens, as her first courtesan, she has taught you how to traverse the mind easily, to learn secrets, and how to use them to your advantage.

“The most powerful of witches and wizards can all be defeated by the secrets they hide.”

While the other courtesans were only taught surface-level legilimency, you were a natural. Not only can you do it nonverbally and wandlessly, but you can also communicate with others telepathically. Madame Blanche had opened you to all possibilities, and with that, she entrusted you with the highest position of being her right hand.

And your skill at legilimens always comes at night when you bed another clientele. And in the middle of pure ecstasy, they reveal the truth unwillingly. Here in the dimmed candlelight, you walked through the halls of their mind unlocking every door with a skeleton key of your abilities. No matter how many layers, or how many locks they keep, trust you could open it with ease. Secrets like marital affairs, financial debt, graft and corruption, illegitimate children, crimes, enemies, first love, their favorite color, the last thing they ate, their thoughts at that very moment… you can see and feel. An out-of-body experience, stripping you naked from yourself, from what you are and who you were. Here you forgot you were even breathing.

You didn’t realize you had been lying on the bed still for the last few minutes, the house elf, Bernadette, had been looking at you worriedly, and in her hand was your dressing robe, colors almost like the blinding light.

“Was the man harsh on you today, Miss?” She asked, placing the mulberry silk robe on your hand. You gave her a small smile and shook your head. The faint marks of rope were the clear sign of your lies, yet you were accustomed to it.

“It is alright. Run my bath for me?” With a wave of her hand, the bed took itself towards the laundry room and came in a small golden tub that fit your frame. Muttering a spell it filled the tub with bubbles and water, you stood before it before hitting it with a wave of your wand. The gramophone in the room suddenly erupted into soulful jazz music. With a scrub and a bar of soap ready at hand, Bernadette tried to assist you but you declined. Stepping foot into the warm bubbly bath.

“I would like a moment alone.” You waved your hand as soon as the words left your mouth, the house elf knew to leave you to your own devices. You were a grown woman, a woman who has been doing these for the last decade. And whenever you tried to look into your future, all you could see were the grand walls that painted your very eyes, the moving wallpaper depicting fields of various white flowers, you were stuck in Amour Délicat for the last moments of your life. This was the only thing you will ever know. You were indebted and grateful to Madame Blanche, and that led to your loyalty. She protects you and everyone in the Maison close. Outside these walls was uncertainty.

In the hot water, you submerged yourself trying to wake yourself up to the fact that this is your life. Yet when the warm glow of the city, fireworks erupted the skyline, muffled by the water you sat straight to peer at the noise. Without even looking, you knew families were in their own homes, enclosed with the scent of pastries and the warmth of their own fireplace. It was just a few minutes before New Year's Eve, and here you were working. Alone, staring into the distance, craving the sense of a warm home.

Holding your knees close to your chest, you stared at the skyline as Muggles and Magical people alike celebrated the night with a bright display of fireworks.

Unbeknown to you, Clarice, the receptionist had been preventing the members of the British Ministry of Magic from stepping foot towards the quarters an hour before the new year would start.

“You cannot go inside; this is a private and respectable property,” Clarice spoke, her accent rushing the words as panic littered her veins. Her arm at ready with her own wand. The lounge was filled with thick air as the British aurors pointed their wand at the girl, not understanding a word she shouted.

Click-clack! Click-clack!

With every slow step, Madame Blanche descended the stairs.

“And what do you English want? Here to close Amour Délicat? You don’t have the right.” Madame Blanche boasts, looking at the men below with her chin pointed upwards. Looking at them one by one, the Madame could not read their minds, the British aurors have been trained in occlumency. Remaining calm, she stood on the balcony, overlooking the whole crowd below.

“We were looking for one of your workers. I believe they have the answers to the disappearance of one of the assistant delegates of the British Department of the International Confederation of Wizards.” Torquil Travers claimed, holding a photograph of a man in his middle 30s-40s.

Summoning the paper in the grasp of the Madame, she looked at the photograph intently, racking up all the lists of their clients. Without even showing hints of recognition, Madame had thrown the paper back into the hands of the aurors.

“I believe you must have a permit before we further your inquiries. If not, then leave.” Turning around, she waved a hand to open the large doors.

“We have it, signed and approved by your own Minister.” Stopping in her tracks, the auror walked up to the steps and held it right in front of the Madame’s face. Now a hint of annoyance was painted on her pointed brows.

“Come to my office, only I can accommodate two of you. Choose wisely.” Madame Blanche said in a cold tone, not even bothering to wait for aurors as she walked straight to the lift.

“Scamander! Come with me.” Travers could upon the young man, the older auror respected the young man’s abilities and thinking, after all, he was a respectable war hero.

Stepping into the lift, the walls were decorated with moving painted white flowers, the madame touched the button to the highest floor, and the black lining of the lift showed its elegance. As the Aurors stood behind her, eyes darted across each other in nervousness. The Brits showed no sign of anxiety, even if that was far from the truth, the Madame held an air of regalness suffocating them with the scent of floral perfume. As soon as the doors of the lift parted for her, the room was quite the luxury and beauty with its eclectic interior, engulfed with knick-knacks from travels, moving statues, paintings from famous muggles, and the large glass pane showing the night sky.

In the middle of the room was a velvet green chair, a large glass table, and a lone flower sitting in the golden vase.

“Sit.” She pointed toward the chair in front of her, while she remained standing encircling the room looking at the Englishman that disturbed her home.

“Our clients value discreteness, we simply could not disclose it easily… yet since you presented me with a hand-written note by our minister I must oblige to your request. Then talk, what is it that you want?”

“We are looking for Charles Moore. He has been in charge of communications with the French Ministry as a part of assistant delegate for our Ministry, he asked to be assigned here after the Muggle World War. The day he was posted to return, he didn’t. And we believe that in his letters to his sister, he claimed to be…”

Madame Blanche raised her eyebrow at Torquil Travers waiting for him to spit it out.

“In love.” Theseus replied. “He claims that he has found the love of life here in Paris and was planning to buy off her indenture. Or so we believe.”

Madame Blanche scoffed.

“There are many dames in Paris, and he chose to settle with a courtesan?” Madame Blanche laughed, making Travers find it humorous as well. In the keen eyes of Madame Blanche, he saw Theseus's brows turn into a frown before shifting back to biting his cheeks.

“Are you certain that it was in Amour Délicat?”

Theseus answered with a nod.

There were three letters in total from Charles Moore to his sister. And for the past few days, Theseus had been assigned to look for the exact description of the building. He alone took the time of the day, looking at details of every establishment and brothel in Paris, from the world of the muggles to hidden alcoves of the French Wizarding World. After 2 days, he had seen the exact description of the magnificent-looking walls lined with silver and the sweet nauseating scent of flowers, that’s when he knew this was it.

First Letter:

Dearest Ange,

I believe I have found the love of my life! No one is ever as beautiful as her. No amount of theatrics on the show could ever take my eyes off of her. She sat there like a flower, waiting for me.

As soon as the play was over, I tried to approach her. Tell her to take my hand and run away with me. Oh, Ange! I never felt something like this. This must be what love is. Yet, my heart turned to pieces when I saw her taking the arm of another man, walking together side-by-side as they left the theater. I trailed behind them, and saw the most luxurious of buildings, sparkled with silver linings and flowers decorating its walls. Then I stopped and stared, and the man left her there. That’s when I realized what it was… I know this might sound ridiculous, but she is working in the red-light district and with that, no amount of apprehension could hinder me. I know you would flip the whole house upside down, but Ange this is love. I am certain of it. No amount of your denial could keep me away from this.

From your darling brother, Charlie.

Second Letter:

Dear Angelique,

With the amount of your reply, I take that your silence was your approval.

Today, I took liquid courage to go ahead and talk to her. But the only way was that I had to pay a fortune. I walked to the receptionist with high hopes, and with her assistance, she immediately gave me a room. With flowers in hand, I waited for her only to get my hopes up when another girl walked into the room. I was filled with disappointment. I asked the lady of the night for the description of my love, and she claimed that she was part of the ‘bouquet de blanc’. First-time patrons' pocket money is not enough to gain an audience. And me being an assistant could only lead me to certain places, yet I will persevere.

Give me a few more days and I’ll be able to, no matter the cost.

From your brother, Charles.

Last Letter:

To my Darling Sister,

I hope this letter finds you well, I could not disclose to the ministry the cost of my expenses… but I found another way. Worry no more. Today, I will finally be able to talk to her.

The day that I return home is when she is with me.

From your loving brother.

Placing the letters right in front of the Madame of the house, with a lifted finger her smile faded into a scowl. Someone from the inside was spreading information about her courtesans; Bouquet de Blanc was valued in secrecy. This was a catalog of their courtesans that had regular high-paying patrons, and this was not open for viewing so easily. Patrons that were deemed valuable to her and her Maison close were accommodated, the pure-blooded noble families, higher ranking officials, royalty even. And someone from the lower ranks of her courtesans had their tongue quite willingly.

Waving her wand, she summoned a large logbook. There inside was information such as names, professions, ages, nationalities, and ranks of their patrons, of course, the courtesan they were assigned to. Whispering the name Charles Moore, it skimmed through the pages with ease, and there in bold letters was the name of the auror the Brits were looking for. Travers tried to peer at the other listed names, his curiosity taking the best of him.

“Curiosity is the lust of the mind, Mr. Travers. Why don’t you sit still, and I’ll call upon her.”

Closing the book harshly, Madame called upon Bernadette. Apparating next to her mistress, Madame Blanche whispered to call the girl. Nodding the house elf disappeared within a blink of an eye. Behind them, the elevator dinged, while the Madame tapped on the book with carefully manicured nails.

“It is New Year’s Eve; would you like to avail of our services? It can easily be arranged. I know it’s a long journey and your work for your ministry is greatly appreciated, it wouldn’t hurt to take the night off— to indulge yourself in your sensual desires.”

The older man shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Suddenly they were interrupted when the elevator doors dinged, signaling the arrival of the courtesan. Turning around a slender figure stepped foot in the room, She wore a long flowing green nightgown.

“Come in here and greet the Brits, Maeve. They would like to talk to you about Charles Moore.” Madame Blanche pointed to the aurors in front of her, the back of the courtesan’s neck grew in a cold sweat.

“I–I do not understand Madame Blanche. I didn’t do anything wrong! The man asked– and I swore that was the last of it, I told him what he wanted to hear.” The girl's pleading cries fell on deaf ears as the aurors could not understand what she was crying about. Theseus' eyes darted between Madame Blanche and the girl’s tear-stricken face. While Torquil Travers stood to show his authority, ready to apprehend the girl.

Within just a few seconds, Madame Blanche had already seen the inner linings of the girl’s mind. The fear registered in her thoughts while she traversed doors upon doors to look for the memories of the missing delegate, and right there she found what she was seeking.

In just a few quick strides, Madame Blanche towered over the girl with a look of disdain painted on her red lips. The old mistress, jaw held tightly as she wiped the tears of the girl. Only to hold the young girl’s face tightly, her long nails pierced through the delicate skin while she stared straight down into the young woman’s eyes with an intense look, unblinking.

“You may leave, pack your bags, and look for work elsewhere. I do not take it kindly to those willing to open their mouths willingly to my secrets. Bernadette, escort her out of here. I have found what I’m looking for.”

The girl refused as the house elf dragged the wailing girl back to the elevator, screams of ‘no’ echoed through the walls.

Travers, who was far too confused, shouted for the house elf to stop as the girl was a key witness. Even pointed his wand threateningly at the old mistress, ready to cast a stunning spell within the tips of his lips. The madame disarms him with a flick of her wand, his wand went flying right off his grasp and cluttered on the hardwood floor. Madame shook her head no when the auror Travers tried to pick it up.

“You’re a legilimens.” Theseus muttered; Madame Blanche turned around to face the man giving them a tight-lipped smile and nodded.

“Would you like to view the girl’s memory and be done with it? I need to run my business after all.” Offering to perform legilimency to project the memories to the aurors, they declined. They knew not to, after all, they too have secrets that protect their ministry.

“We decline. We, Aurors value our minds and do not open them so willingly.” Travers stated, still apprehensive of Madame Blanche. “But the girl needs to be questioned, we have to have her testimonials as to Moore’s disappearance.”

“Then you must trust my word because I too have my secrets to keep. That girl didn’t kill or cause his disappearance. He came in here one night, to question about the catalog of my courtesans and that was it–”

Cutting off the handler of the brothel, Theseus insisted; “Charles Moore stated in his letters about a ‘bouquet de blanc’. I hope that might ring a bell, after browsing through your catalog in the lobby earlier. I couldn’t find traces of this list, is this a secret that you are hiding from the ministry?”

Madame Blanche’s eyes narrowed at the young auror; her piercing ice-blue eyes almost looked like they could kill.

“No, of course not. My bouquet de blanc is the Amour Délicat trade secrets. I could not easily say it out loud for fear of our competitors copying what I built from the ground up. If you would like to browse that catalog, then let me— although I must say, we do not easily offer our services freely.” Walking towards a dark oak cabinet grabbing a large book with golden linings. Placing right back at the table, Madame Blanche flipped through the pages with images of different courtesans, and right on its last page was a picture of you.

“I believe she is the one he is asking for.” She pointed with a manicured finger, right before your name was a title given to you.

Queen of the Night; Night-blooming Cereus

You were smiling, looking right at the onlooker like it was destined. While others bashfully hid their eyes, sultry looking to get admirers, you didn’t need to do that. You had your charm, something that allures the onlookers to choose you. Madame Blanche tried to flip the page to show them another photograph of you leaving nothing to the imagination to the spectator, but Theseus stopped her.

“I think that is enough, could you summon her to talk to us.” Theseus declared with a cough, standing up to close the book and stepping right in front of Travers' line of sight. “Please.”

Madame Blanche smiled, this time it was far different. “I believe your permit only limited you to talk to one of the key witnesses… And since Mr. Moore was not a benefactor of bouquet de blanc, I know because I am the only bookkeeper of that catalog… you must pay a hefty price.”

Now, the Aurors were stuck in the beginning, only pieces of blocked paths. If Charles Moore was not on the list of high-ranking patrons, then they could only comply with the demands of the authority and right now it wasn’t them who was holding the winning cards. When Travers' authority gets threatened, he scoffs, ready to drag Theseus out of the old woman. Madame Blanche truly was a businesswoman, she played them a fool. Whether they get out of the establishment empty-handed, or with empty wallets was their choice. They could simply not arrest the old woman, this was out of their jurisdiction, they were out of their element and far from their own country, and they simply couldn’t do whatever they wanted.

“Either you pay full price, or you will tell me why such a simple assistant is being hunted down by the best Aurors of the British Ministry. Pick your price.” She sat arms folded right in front of her face, holding her chin while she grinned at the standing men.

Within a minute of no one budging, Travers' patience wavered. With a deep sigh, he faltered. With one last glance at Theseus, he held his head low.

“Charles Moore stole 4,000 galleons. We believe that he tried to buy her indenture and convince her to come to London with him.” Travers confessed. That was the half-truth, Theseus’ senior took out the part that it was from the subsidy for international affairs. And the way he stole it was undetected like he had some insiders to help him, they were now battling an unseen threat. They only noticed it was missing after 3 months, when Theseus looked at the accounts and noticed that something was awry.

Madame Blanche started laughing, “He believes he can buy off her indenture for 4,000 galleons. Oh, what a joke! That’ll only cost him half an hour at most”

When Madame Blanche stopped laughing, she pointed back to the lift doors. “Head to the floor below. I’ll tell her I sent you.” The aurors nodded and headed to leave only to be held when the Madame halted them to stop.

“You endanger my investment; I’d rather you stay here than be near one of my priceless courtesans.” She stated, pointing at the older auror. Theseus can see his senior jaw tightened, and the veins on his neck grew red in anger. Not only was the older auror disarmed, but he was also being held under surveillance in fear that he might endanger you, now his patience and authority wavered on thin ice, and his eyes clouded with anger.

“I’ll talk to her and I’ll find what we need.” Theseus whispered as soon as he stepped foot in the lift. The doors closed slowly; he saw Madame Blanche’s eyes watching the other auror like a hawk.

When the doors for the lift opened, what greeted him was a vast hall painted like the night sky. With a slight shift of his eyes, he can see the tiny freckles of stars that decorated a lone white door. Unlike the outside of the establishment, this seemed out of place with the flower motifs of Amour Délicat. Here he can feel the cold breeze of the winter night. Knocking on the white door, he called out to the name he had seen written on the catalog.

You who had been preoccupied with your thoughts; wishing to know the feeling of stepping out of your body, floating, freely, like the ghosts that linger down the dark alleys. Right outside the window, the streets erupted in cheers as they all greeted each other another happy new year. Drinking down the champagne that was given to you by a patron, noting a taste of toast and coffee and a subtle spice drowning out all your other senses. When the fireworks ended, you lay there looking at the skylight as the only glow of the light left was the moonlight.

A subtle knock started you as you let Bernadette waltz her way in. Her company and the cup of tea are greatly appreciated when your water has now gone cold. But instead of the house elf, what replaced her was someone far taller than her; there he stood only the silhouette of his slender frame seen.

Theseus didn’t expect what he saw, a lone woman basking in the golden tub, a melancholy look written in her eyes.

Sad. You looked sad.

The only sound that could be heard was the faint hum of the gramophone across the room and the muffled cheers that erupted right behind the glass windows. With the faint sparkle of light, you saw a slight frown on his face. Realizing your predicament, you went back to wearing the mask when you were at work.

“Would you like me to keep you company?” You asked, turning around delicately, careful not to show another ounce of skin. Tilting your head to one side and smiling at him, the same one he has seen in the photograph earlier.

When Theseus realized what you were implying, he held his hand and shook his head, showing you a metal badge indicating the words ‘auror’. You had a fair share of French aurors that came to you for a night, often playing the role of the captive and captor. What a lack of imagination, if this is the role he wants to play then so be it.

“You would like to play that role? I, the convict, and you the detainer. Would you like that darling?” You asked, ready to approach him when he realized what was happening, he turned around not to face your naked form. The tips of his ears went red in embarrassment.

“I didn’t come here for your service; I was sent here by Madame Blanche to question you. My name is Theseus Scamander, I was sent by the British Ministry of Magic.” He announced.

Ahh… A British Auror. You hummed and stood to grab the white robe and placed it on your body. Hearing the sound of faint footsteps, Theseus waited until you gave him a signal.

“I see… talk I don’t have all night to entertain you.” This time you put your weight and one foot, crossing your arms across your chest. Your hand laid steady on your wand.

Turning around, you pointed toward the chair that sat across from you, and he agreed to your request. As soon as he did, you went and grabbed the champagne you had been drinking earlier and procured another glass to pour him one. Placing it next to him, you stood in front of him and drank yours, waiting as he did too. Theseus eyed it suspiciously, but you continued to drink it on your own accord.

“A gift… something lighter than the fire whiskey.” You replied as you down the glass in one gulp. He nodded and carefully took a sip of his. You sat in front of him and grabbed the bottle to pour more down into your glass.

When he exhaled in satisfaction, you knew it tasted amazing. Theseus knew what you were doing, trying to lower his guard, not sitting to show you were in control, and intoxicating him to vulnerability. Yet, he remained calm, showing no signs of threat to you. If Madame Blanche was a legilimens, there was a high chance you were too, all he needed to do was throw you off his scent.

And just like he had predicted, right at the moment you tried to pry his mind. A knot on your brow formed when you stared intently at him.

‘You looked sad.’ Those were the thoughts that circled his mind, like a mantra. You can feel it. Feel him. It made you nauseous, the bile in your throat rose as his thoughts engraved into yours. No one had looked at you and thought you were sad; it was always beautiful. Sadness and you were never to be put in a sentence, and when his thoughts did it terrified you.

To be seen broken makes you fear. To be seen feeling sadness made the feeling of being stripped naked for the whole world to see. All your life, you had built these walls that made you stand on your own two feet. The ache in your mind becomes unbearable, you weren’t beautiful… underneath all the expensive clothes, and pearls that glittered your skin— you are crooked, battered with bruises, wrecked by time, your skin filthy with sin, you were a tragedy… a rotten work.

“Stop.” With gritted teeth, you fail to look at his eyes and his mind. A slip of the tongue made you realize what you had said out loud, that was all Theseus needed to know that you too are a legilimens. “State your purposes.”

Right in the pockets of his coat was the photograph of Charles Moore, he carefully placed it on the table in front of him waiting for you to pick it up.

“Do you recognize him?” He placed the picture within your line of sight. Pausing he tried to scope for your reaction. “It’s Charles Moore, an assistant delegate of the British Department of the International Confederation of Wizards.”

“He has been missing for months and the last contact we had from him was a letter to his sister, trying to have an audience with you.”

Your eyes examined Moore’s photograph. And minutes passed your silence almost became too heavy to Theseus's dislike, but he needed to thread your waters carefully, you were already agitated for unknown reasons.

“I believe I do not know who this person is.” You smiled and stared at Theseus, the first time you met his eyes after your outburst earlier.

He pointed out another slip of your strong facade right at its mark. “Yet you do not deny that you do recognize him.”

“Maybe I do… Maybe I don’t. It is possible he is one of my long lists of admirers, doesn’t erase the fact that I do not know him at all.”

“I highly doubt that. You’re a legilimens, and I am not; that is true. I need to know if you have met with him once, and if you are proven to be telling the truth then I would leave this room. But I can tell you’re lying. Skilled legilimens can procure memories into another person, and all I needed was the time and date, any people that were trailing him. Your truth is all I need.” He proposes.

“Or would you rather we do this the hard way? The choice is yours.” He leaned forward as his head rested on his knuckles.

“You give me the illusion of free choice when all you want is to pry my mind. Is there something you are not saying, Mister Scamander? Tell me the truth, what is in it for you? What would you get to look into the inner workings of my mind? You expect me to believe that you honestly want nothing else? Just my memory? I hardly doubt that.” Challenging his proposition, you leaned forward as your palms hit the glass table harshly with a loud slap, not before rebutting his claims. “Surely it could not be just you are looking for a testament, you wouldn’t work hard on that, all you needed is a vial of the strongest veritaserum and it would be done. Then why are you pushing hard to look into my mind?”

“You play a cruel game of trust.” He sighed, making you scoff. “Mr. Moore had said in his letters about how he will get the currency to meet you, his means to getting it is unsaid. And that was a clear sign that he needed someone to work with him to get that from a subsidiary of international affairs, you are simply a madman to be able to work alone. And all I need is— you. All I need is you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“I need you to work with me. You knew better than just mere rumors, you knew everyone and could see their thoughts.”

Working with the British Ministry, consider it treason. Yet, you never were loyal to this land. Your loyalty lies elsewhere, it stays to those who have given you a sense of protection. Your loyalty is within Madame Blanche’s hands. Hands that remained choking you to stay.

Still, you let Mr. Scamander entertain you with his words.

“It would have to take you a valuable price, Mr. Scamander. I am an expensive woman, yet, I am considerate. Give me leverage and I will give you what you want.” That’s when he stopped and stared at the photo, avoiding any eye contact. “What could you possibly offer Mr. Scamander, tell me.”

You grinned as you took a sip at the champagne, just like a war, both of you had been disarming and hurting each other for the kill. Breaking down every barrier with a small slip-up of each other, both of you were professionals at your trades. He is an Auror, he knows how to spot lies and negotiate, give you the feeling of support to make you break down your armor. Meanwhile, you pride yourself on being a great liar, you know what to say to appear compliant, and you know how to adapt and play the games to your tide. Every word and sentence uttered until one of you would lose the battle of wits, one slip and the fallen would crash and burn.

Leaning back you gave him a smile, your wand procuring a cigarette that lay on the table. Placing it gently on your lips, the tip of your wand lit up a flame. With a deep inhale, you knew you were already winning the battle. You didn’t need to look into his mind, to know that he was fighting a losing war. His occlumency was far useless when the knot on his forehead and the jaunt of his chin told you he was conflicted.

“I have been offered riches that could fill De Nile, clothes that were woven from the rarest of silks, jewels that shone brighter than the sun, houses that housed thousands of rooms, paintings of the most beautiful landscapes, songs and sonnets about my beauty, the most exotics of creatures that lay hidden within the government’s grasp… Pray tell, what could a simple auror like you have that can overthrow all those proposals?”

He was silent, expression never changing. And no matter how hard you try to pry to look into his mind, it remains still like he is right in front of you.

“Safety.” Your smile faltered. “I offer you safety.”

You blinked and blinked. Trying hard not to show that your jaw was slack in silence; the timeliness of the gramophone hitting its ending notes was fitting. His words lay heavy on your mind.

Amour Délicat had always offered you protection, but never safety. Safety was a word often associated with emotional aspects that were never visible in your job, safety offered you the sense of never needing to keep your secrets in this line of work or needing not to utter a word that would be your downfall in these walls. Protection kept you free and sheltered from physical aspects and threats, like the two guards that trailed you whenever you needed to do outside work, or the walls that shielded you from the rain. Safety is a foreign word, way too foreign that it burns you with curiosity. A thrill you never experience on a silver platter. It gives you hope— and hope gives you greed. A greed that surpasses all material things known to man. You want to take it all, consume your being until all is left is the safety that you wanted, the safety of being able to walk free, to run away, the security of not needing to know that this is the place where you would meet your demise.

You knew how Madame Blanche worked, she took pride in knowing secrets and that is her leverage. And right now Madame Blanche would be none the wiser when you will take his deal. And there is one thing in the world that the Madame hated, and it is to not know anything at all.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

You held your hand to him and stood up, apprehensive he stood up as well taking your hand in his. Looking up into his eyes, you called upon the house elf. Bernadette immediately appeared right beside you.

“Don’t promise me empty words.”

“I won’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if we made an unbreakable vow.”

Your hold on his palm tightens, only to travel into his wrist. Without breaking eye contact you give him a minute to decide what his choice would be. Does he trust you enough to do it at the expense of his life, or would he rather fear being the one to dictate his actions?

His palm pressed tightly into your wrists, not like the rough hands that occupied your wrists hours ago, his hold was gentle, not imposing. Nodding at Bernadette, a thin tongue of flame issued at the tips of the house elf's fingertips and wound its way around both your and Theseus’ hands. It felt like a burning wire, keeping your skin aflame.

“Will you, Theseus Scamander, promise to provide my safety, as he and I work together?”

“I will.”

“Will you, abide by our oath, to only tell the truth to me?”

“I will.”

a/n: dialogue that is formatted like this “dialogue” is in French. i tried hard to make it one-shot i really did, buT I SIMPLY CANT SO HERE I GIVE YOU WORLD BUILDING AND MORE LORE UPON LORE ON THIS FIC.

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander x y/n #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander oneshot #theseus scamander fic #theseus scamander smut #theseus scamander x you #fantastic beasts fic #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts one shot #callum turner

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werezmastarbucks · 1 year ago

Text

black

part one - Golden

part two - Silver

part four - Green

credence barebone x fem!OC

Then he said to me: "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love and be loved in return"

warnings: language

word count: 9056

music: awakening the forest by everrune, fireproof by the national, strange birds by birdy, this will make you love again by iamx, the spirit dragon by mordela morana, ocean rose by tim janis

She mostly spent her days crying and nights, hunting. As she watched the baby run around in vivarium, she realized that the better Qilin felt, the less of Credence there was. Still, this was an exchange on a different plane of reality for her. She couldn't imagine betraying this creature, not even for Credence. This didn't mean he didn't matter. Orlaith needed everything to fall right into place.

Since their last meeting two months have flown by, and Dumbledore's promise of changes within a month might have been just a ploy after all. Grindelwald's acolytes didn't have it easy in the woods. They died in such numbers that it was time for the Lord to get concerned, but apparently, he had other business to attend to, and never showed up. Orlaith was ready to fight him, messy or not; the earth was on her side. As May came, the powers returned to the nature, and it woke up. She was teaching animals to fight back. She was training defense spells on whoever she happened to meet at the Forest in the wrong hour. Speaking of criminals, of course.

Orlaith decided, while she was obediently waiting to Dumbledore's attack! to get the matters in order. Especially she wanted to apologize to Matilda something-porne for her unfriendly demeanor.

She's been to the castle more or less reguralry, with all the baby walks, but rarely in the daylight. As the warm May wind dried everything up, and healed some of her soul, the road to Hogwarts also was made better, without deep pools of water and heaps of dirty leaves. One day, as the baby still slept, Orlaith escaped the house and flew for the castle. On a broom; it was finally warm enough. She flew fast, like she used to; watching the glimmering water below her, rippling with the glimpses of sunlight. The castle stood in front of her an unpenetrable mass. She even flew around it a couple of times, feeling the wind in her hair, trying to stop herself from thinking she could pull quidditch. The field stood, undisturbed, with its flags, bannerols and tabards fluttering in the wind. The world was laughing happily, again for the coming summer. The summer that awaited everyone, no matter where. She had no idea that even at Nurmengard, where the severe weather always held, the ice broke off from the rocks, and the winds ceased just a little, letting the warm air gather. Which made the Lord incredibly concerned at last.

She flew through the hallways of the castle like she was a fifth-year student; gathering surprised looks with her bright hair, and the flowers in it, and with her colorful dress. The poor pupils had still to wear the black uniform, and she looked like a ghost in flesh, unhinged. Children were preoccupied with the exams, drawing near, inevitable. That was one of the things she missed about studying.

She actually encountered the Headmaster himself, as he was pondering at the portrait of a naked hag on a broomstick, flying over a village at night. The moon was yellow in that painting, the witch's hair was obsidian black. She smiled coyly at everyone who looked at her.

"Oh, greetings, Peverell".

Orlaith sometimes couldn't express how proud, refreshed and excited it made her feel, when someone called her that.

"I'm thinking about removing Bella from this corridor".

She gave a look to the witch, who waved in return.

"Are the boys getting too agitated?"

"You have no idea. Always sheer commotion at this exact spot", he turned to her, adjusting his little reading glasses and examining her appearance.

"Isn't this whole summer look too immodest for studies?"

"I have graduated, Headmaster. Under Black".

"Headmaster Black. But didn't he make it known on your graduation certificate, that your results were satisfactory at best, and you ought to still catch up even after?"

"My results were excellent, Headmaster", she forced herself not to laugh, "Black just hated me because I didn't call him Headmaster".

"Headmaster Black".

He shook his head, closing his eyes.

"So, are you still studying, or not?"

"Not anymore, Headmaster".

"But I hear you've been practicing in the woods. Again".

His stern stare made her rise on her tiptoes.

"Uh... yes?"

"Without supervision? A witch of your abilities would act unwisely if she elected to train her duelling skills against the actual criminal, pugnacious enemy".

"Would you like to join me, Headmaster? I think I've located a specific hollow where they think it's absolutely comfortable to plot invisibly. Have you got my owl, by the way? Was Professor Dumbledore made aware of Grindelwald's alliance present so near the school?"

Dippet brushed her off.

"No Grindelwald acolytes have been to Hogwarts yet, thanks to you. Why bother anybody else with it?"

She bid goodbye to him, leaving the wizard next to Bella. If he is so sinile now, she thought, what happens in thirty years' time?

She reached North Tower without other adventure and found the rope ladder hanging suggestively. She shoved her head into the class and looked around.

"Professor?" she didn't want to let her know that she didn't remember her last name.

There was shuffling behind the door, then, Matilda showed up, in a purple trapezoid dress with long, light sleeves.

"Hello?"

"Do you remember me? I'm a Peverell you'd been looking for. We met at Hogsmeade and you gave me a prophecy, and I was rude to you".

Her eyes lit up with recognition.

"Ah, yes! Come in".

She climbed up and found herself in the Divinations class. Of course, with every new teacher the interior always changed, but this time, little to nothing seemed different. There were still crystal balls and books neatly placed on the shelves. The flying candles were now without fire, sleeping. Some empty cages were on the tops, aimless. Maybe it was more purple, understandably.

Matilda offered her a coffee, and they sat at the round table in the middle of the room.

"Were you any good at this subject while you studied?" Professor asked curiously as they made it half through their drinks.

"Complicated. I happen to be a kind of a prophet", she confessed, "but in all the wrong places. Very often, when I needed to glance into the crystal ball, I saw instead what I already knew would happen".

Matilda looked at her knowingly.

"Where have you travelled from?"

"Far away", she nodded. She suddenly felt warm, she realized, she'd underestimated this woman. Matilda didn't ask too many questions, but was politely inquisitive.

"Was it in the form of dreams, or visions?"

"Books", she replied. Matilda was impressed, although, Orlaith always felt sad when she needed to talk about it. The sight of an empty house on the autumn street flooded her head every time. The house she'd left, without saying goodbye.

"So, Professor", she decided to lead the conversation away while it was comfortable, "you told me not to prevent the tree from growing. Have you, maybe, got any more insight into that?"

The soothsayer clicked her bracelets on both hands.

"I'm sorry, but no. The initial message, too, was very foggy, uneven. It looked like something that could be changed, or, on the opposite, set in stone".

"Future can't be set in stone", she argued, "I've already changed it".

"Well. Do you want to try for yourself? If we ask the right questions, maybe you'll understand more".

She nodded. They put away the cups: luckily, Matilda didn't suggest reading the future on coffee grains. She draped the windows quickly and moved one of the crystal balls towards them.

"This is the one where I saw it first. I'm sorry, only I can use it".

"That's fine", Orlaith consented. Matilda touched the ball tenderly, like it was a baby calf. Orlaith thought of her own, sleeping at home. She might have already awaken. But she never got scared when she was alone; she just waited for her in the kitchen, where it smelt the best.

"What do you want to ask?" Matilda offered, looking inside. To Orlaith, the ball looked absolutely transparent.

"Don't prevent the tree from growing. What did it mean?"

There was silence as Matilda peered inside.

"A boy. Dark-haired, thin, very pale, he looks lost. He's alone... do you know him?"

"Credence. What about him?"

Matilda shrugged.

"It's just him. I'm sorry. You know the spirits won't just explain everything to you in detail. The veil is heavy, and it's not easy to hear through".

"I understand", she mused. Matilda looked at her with compassion.

"You look like a person who's had a lot of fights to carry these flowers in your hair".

"I'm about to have more".

Something caught Professor's eye as she moved back to the ball.

"Oh. Oh!" she gave Orlaith a look of amazement, "why are you keeping a Qilin at home?"

Ice-cold fear touched the back of her neck.

"What about it?"

"Someone wants to take it".

She all but stumbled down from the rope-ladder. Damn forbidden zone of the castle, she needed to run so much to even get to the territory where she could fly, to say nothing about apparating! Her breath in her throat, Orlaith told herself that prophecies weren't immediate; and that, in fact, of course anybody would want to take Qilin away. If they knew it existed. Newt made sure nobody, but them four, knew about it. Stairs after stairs she flew, knocking off students and rubbing against the corners; finally, she was in the yard.

"Accio broom!" she screamed, and soon, her broomstick was racing to her with pleasant whooshing through the air. Jumping up, she only made it as far as the field outside, and she disapparated immediately. Then, another course of running through Hogsmeade. Nobody could know where it was, no one, if only Aberfort hasn't lost the match. As she reached the house, her chest was stabbing with pain, knees giving in. She turned the key in the lock and threw the door open.

Qilin was lying on the sofa at the back of the kitchen. Upon seeing her, the baby got down and trotted towards her, happy.

She fell on the floor, hugging the creature. She was trembling.

"I love you. I love you so much, baby, you know I love you".

Just to be sure, she checked the second floor and the wardrobe, and used revealing charms. Nothing came of it which was good. The feeling of unease wouldn't let go though. She felt paranoid. She didn't know what, something still hovered above her. She tried to think what Matilda told her, and made no more of it.

The rest of the day she was just cleaning, letting the birds in, to play with the baby, and feeding cats outside. It was a good day, and she dreamed to take the Qilin to the field, but it was impossible. Evening came, and she decided to go at least to vivarium, the one where she had the ocean, to let the baby play in the water. She put on her evening cloak and made it upstairs to pick up the Invisibility Cloak. Qilin looked a bit tired, so, she was in two minds.

Then someone knocked on the door.

That was not normal. Even understanding it was Aberfort, she felt unhappy. What might have happened that he came himself instead of sending an owl?

Orlaith came downstairs with her wand in her hand, just in case. Waited for another knock, but it didn't come.

She walked up to the door and listened. One time. They knocked just once, scaring her.

She said to herself, you. You, Orlaith, are the Cutter, the Witch. Are you going to be afraid of a guest at your door?

She opened it and stepped back to have better swinging ability.

It was Credence.

Something felt heavy and tragic. Against the homely fire and the light of the house, he looked like a ghost. Still the same face, but white, with blacker eyes than ever. Without a smile, it was mocking her. Orlaith thought he really was a ghost, sent by Grindelwald to break her, and it meant that Credence was dead. He looked like he was resurrected with the Stone.

He stepped into the house quietly, closing the door behind him.

"Hello Orlaith", he said gently.

"What are you doing here?"

It was really him, but very, very barely.

She noticed he had his wand out, too. She instinctively stood her back against the set of stairs where, above, in the bedroom, the baby was already lying in her little bed.

He looked up through the ceiling.

"How did you find my house?"

"Just like I penetrated the dome at the pond", he replied, "I seem to sniff you out easily, even when you try to stay hidden".

She swallowed a scream.

"Credence..."

"I know what you have here. I need it".

She put out her hand and stopped him from coming closer.

"You can't have her".

"When Grindelwald found that another Qilin survived, he was very unhappy with me".

There was something very off with the way Credence spoke; maybe it was already difficult for him. Orlaith felt her ugly helplessness in her throat.

"He told me if I don't get this baby, he'll kill me".

She had to bend her arm because he was now standing closer already. She clutched his shoulder.

"I can't", she whispered, "I'm so sorry. I can't let you have her".

Credence lowered his head to meet her eyes.

"You said you wouldn't give up on me".

And nothing more. If he shouted, blamed her, that would be easier. Credence took the first step of the stairs, moving her with his body. Orlaith clutched on the banister, trying to push on his shoulder, but he was surprisingly strong. There was feverish glint in his eyes. He only looked whithered; in reality, although the obscurial already shone through him, in temples, cheekbones and knuckles, Credence stood is ground very firmly.

"You'll need to kill me, my love", she said. Her head was bowed, his breath on her forehead. She tried to push him as hard as she could, but there was no strength in her limbs.

"I will".

She felt his arm going down with his wand, and their fists touched.

"Look at me".

She raised her eyes.

"Trust my rage".

In a moment something struck her. His eyes expressed nothing, could not. She realised, if Credence has discovered her location, Grindelwald must know it, too. His wand crisscrossed with hers, giving it a light shove. Then he jumped back to the door, and they pointed at each other.

A couple of non-verbal spells met in the air, exploding in fiery flashes. She stepped up to have a better aim and shot, trying to get him; but every spell, Credence broke mid-air, sending one in return. Orlaith ducked, allowing an orange curse bash a hole in the wall behind her. Credence stepped closer, and she forced him to retreive, showering him with superficial blinding curses. He ran deeper into the kitchen, and she followed. Wondering what she is supposed to do next. One, two, three, five, ten curses, bouncing off of each other. They fought symmetrically, guessing each other's movements as they went.

"You'll need to kill me", Credence said, standing in the destroyed kitchen, among the shreds of wood.

"No!"

Credence tilted his head like he was annoyed. She recognized the mist appearing around him, and jumped back as he started to turn into a black cloud of shadow and fire.

"No!"

She ran upstairs. Qilin was trembling in her bed, looking up at her for help as she stumbled next to it.

"You'll be alright, baby, you'll be fine".

She could feel the floor vibrating under her feet as the cloud grew. The obscurial moved with a howl that sounded like a thousand tortured voices. All of those voices belonged to Credence.

She reached for the Invisibility Cloak lying on the bed, holding the baby with the other hand. She just managed to grab it with the tips of her fingers when the swirl of chaos crashed the floor and sucked her inside.

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Aberfort ran like he has never run in his life. He ran and ran through the valley, forgetting he could apparate closer to the gates of Hogwarts. He has completely forgotten he was a wizard, for the first time in his life. He was just human now, running through the heavily scented fields of lupins, skimmias and rapseeds; towards the castle that shone brilliantly above the dark sleeping lake. In the middle of May, Hogwarts celebrated almost every day to prepare students to the rough season of exams. By the time Aberfort finally made it to the gates, it was almost midnight; many teachers have already gone to bed, to say nothing about students. He thundered into the hall, then made it towards the stairs. He was looking for his brother.

He was lucky and knew it as Albus usually went to sleep extremely late. At ten minutes past midnight, he was still in his office, not a sign of exhaustion on his face, in his white and silver jacket, writing something at his desk. However, as he heard heavy steps from the outer class, he was ready for the visitor.

If Aberfort was a horse, he'd be covered in foam.

"She's gone", he panted with a wheeze. Albus got up to his feet.

"They're gone. Aurelius... he found them".

They apparated right to the bridge leading into Hogsmeade. It was even faster than taking the secret tunnel into the Honeydukes. As they ran through the streets, Albus held his brother by the forearm, not to let him fall. Finally, the eastern side of the village was less lit than the center. That's why they chose this house for her. From the distance, Albus could already see the shambles of the dwelling, in the place where the house used to be.

"No, it's not supposed to look like that..." he uttered. They approached hurriedly and Albus sent several Lumos light balls to hover above. The breath was caught in his throat. Something wasn't adding up. Someone betrayed them. He turned to his brother, grabbing him by the collars.

"Where's the match, Aberfort?" he shook him well to stop his eyes from rolling around in their sockets.

"It's here!" Aberfort roared. As he reached for his pocket to demonstrate it. "Here!"

"Did you tell him? Through the mirror?"

"No! He doesn't speak to me, almost never!"

He was gasping for air, thinking, intensely. Something wasn't adding up.

He used the revealing charm to try to peek into what happened here, but the house had been protected too well. It meant, Credence managed to get inside even while the dome still stood. How? If even a Dumbledore spell did not let him see what was transpiring here in the last moments before the explosion.

"Go, send an owl to Newt, gather everyone immediately", he said. Aberfort was panting like a dog. He wasn't tired anymore, but tearing apart. Albus barely thought about how he must be feeling, knowing that his son is in the middle of this.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, deliberating. Then he turned and walked back, towards the bridge.

In fifteen minutes' time everybody was gathered at his office. Newt was the most panicked, understandably. His old ticks were coming out as he paced around. Albus wished Theseus supported his brother a little, even just to stop him from being a moving target. Eulalie was intently watching something on his desk, as she always did when thinking. Her lips moved a little as ideas rushed through her brain. Bunty was staring at Albus, completely lost. She also looked like she blamed him. Jacob collapsed into the chair with red draping, gazing in front of himself, mouth slightly agape. Albus wondered if the muggle had lost his mind.

"Alright", he clapped his hands, and Bunty jumped with surprise.

"Let us not deviate from hope".

"How?!" Theseus exclaimed. "We've just lost both our magical creature and our most powerful asset".

Newt sighed like all life left him.

"Bunty, will you please, give Newt a chair", Albus asked softly. She hurriedly took the zoologist by the arm and led him to sit him down next to the desk.

"How could he have done that", Jacob murmured. "I thought he was... on our side".

"He had joined Grindelwald last year", Eulalie reminded.

"He only did that to protect Orlaith", Newt replied slowly. His eyes were teary.

"Here's the thing I don't understand", Albus said. "There are no bodies and no blood".

Aberfort shrugged.

"He obviously turned. He might have just dissolved them both completely. And died, too".

Theseus was rocking in place.

"The question is", Eulalie said suddenly, "what we do right now. Election is in a week". She looked at Albus intently. He nodded.

"We do what we planned. Everything stays the same.

"But we don't have the Qilin", Newt squealed. Finally, Theseus approached him, and patted him on the shoulder, his hand stiff. That was an endearing gesture from him.

"Grindelwald might not know it. If he had sent Credence to pick up the second baby, and Credence died on the spot, he never gets it, either. We go with the suitcases anyway and see what happens".

"That's barely a plan, Dumbledore".

"The plan was not to have a plan at all", Albus retorted.

"And when we're up there?" Theseus asked. "And we don't have the second Qilin to show people that Grindelwald had been lying?"

"We fight. We do our best to shower him and his acolytes, and we move on as we can".

There was a collective sigh.

The room was sad, divided. The candlelight was dying slowly below the ceiling. Something didn't add up.

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The morning of election was cloudy, a bit cold for a June. The clouds swarmed the sky, promising a storm that would rock the land. Cold winds stabbed the earth and the village, and people, dressed too lightly for this uncharacteristic weather, were bundling themselves tighter in their colorful cloaks. In the middle of the square, where the stairs were leading up towards the Election Podium, was much hotter, the wind unnoticed. People hurdled, crowded, pushed and pulled, paced and yelled their happy slogans, chanting, organizing in separate, orange, red and green groups. Then, on the stairs, the wind ferociously attacked again, tearing the hats from the heads, flapping skirts around the legs, slapping magicians on the faces. A butterfly was struggling to fly up. In this howling vortex of cold air, it flapped its wings with fading strength, thrown around by the gusts of it; the desperate attempts almost paid off as it managed to fly up and up slowly, gradually, while there, on the top of the stairs, the dramatic revelation has already begun. Someone managed to catch it carefully in unclosed fist, and put the butterfly just behind the layer of their black and white striped blanket serving as a coat against the wind. Inside, finally in the warmth, the butterfly landed on a wet, little nose and looked around. A strange creature looked at it back and cooed soflty.

Up there, on the wide round place, Albus Dumbledore locked his eyes with Gellert Grindelwald. The green fireworks were exploding in the air, shattering the sky, as Gellert's face was being translated into all the magical sanctuaries where people watched. He was now the new leader of the magical world.

Newt was wriggling in Mr Pewdence's hands, trying to liberate his working hand. He looked at Eulalie quickly, asking, now what? She stood not far from him, equally guarded, but she wouldn't let them grab her shoulders. Jacob laid on the ground, his face white like snow, a thin trickle of blood dripping from his nose.

There was a soft snap characteristic for apparition. A couple of gasps later, people divided, and a figure stepped up from the last higher steps, towards Grindelwald. He was frail, dressed in all black, his hair covering his face almost completely.

He locked eyes with Grindelwald whose nostrils flared from how livid he became.

"So", he said quietly, "you're alive".

Aberfort shook in his place, his feet scratching the stone, but Albus garbbed him.

Credence said nothing but looked at the wizard for a couple of seconds. Then he raised his wand, slowly, and gently moved it in the air. From the tip of the wand, streams of red smoke flew up towards the wizard and formed a huge word, visible enough for the translation, above his head.

L I A R

Gellert dismissed it with an impatient twitch on his hand.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"He's lying to you!" Newt screamed. "This Qilin is dead! It's been resurrected through necromancy, it's corrupted!"

Rumble moved through the crowd, people swayed like one liquid body.

"Bring him here!" Grindelwald snapped. Newt was dragged in front of him, Dumbledore aware of every movement.

"Credence", he asked, as gently as he could. Credence turned his face towards his uncle, pale, with eyes full of hatred.

"Where's Orlaith?"

The boy smiled but said nothing.

Before getting to the zoologist, Grindelwald moved his attention to Credence again.

"You haven't only failed me, but also betrayed? You, who had been thrown out like garbage, a circus freak. I took you in. I gave you what you desired the most, your history. I gave you your name, Aurelius. I gave you a home. And now you're dying, and looking at me, for what? You dare to raise your eyes at me".

Credence was smiling. Not a single time either Newt, nor Albus has seen him smile. Gellert's spell was so quick that no one was in time to react; even Albus. He's been too preoccupied with the unrealistic oddness of this appearance. Credence himself fended it, with a wide movement, sending the red flash away, above people's heads. Albus noticed something extremely curious, familiar, about this movement, the hand outstretched recklessly. And the wand - he's seen this wand before. He's seen this wand, dragon core, seven inches, extremely stiff, red wood. A smile of disbelief curved his lips as he raised his own wand to protect.

"Where's the second Qilin?" he yelled, in the high, shrill voice, to raise the wave in the crowd. He stood a little behind Aberfort, who stared at him curiously.

"Show us the second one!"

"Yeah! Show us the second one!" someone picked up. Several voices demanded the same. Grindelwald smiled like a knife.

"There is no second Qilin. You see the only one, the real one, in front of you. All this", he motioned towards Scamander, kneeled before him, "is just a distraction".

Credence sat on the steps, supporting himself with one hand.

"Excuse me! Goddammit! Will you- hey, thank you!" there was another high-pitched voice, as if from someone very small - a child, or a female house elf. Crowd grumbled, preoccupied, and people were finally making a narrow corridor, to let them through. Another person, covered in a striped back and white blanket, was stumbling upwards on the stairs.

"Oh, the-" Orlaith's hand caught herself on the steps, "these stairs, fuck", she mumbled under her breath, her voice unusually high with exhaustion. From the blanket, a butterly flew out and disappeared in the milky sky.

"Are there... two hundred thousand of them, or something?"

"What is this?" thundered Grindelwald. He was losing patience. She threw the blanket off her shoulders. Orlaith held the Qilin baby in her hands, snuggled against her chest. She was wearing a black shirt, not unlike Credence's, and dark trousers. In all black, which Dumbledore hasn't seen her quite often, she looked ever more menacing. Her long ginger hair flew in the furious wind, like golden Celtic song. She stood straight for a second, but then bent forward, putting her free hand to her knees, panting from the running. Credence watched her attentively. She waved her hand, motioning them to wait.

"These fucking stairs!" she yelled in thin voice, but it cracked. She's never cursed that much, in front of people.

"This is precarious", Grindelwald said with finality. "This is a ploy".

Orlaith let the Qilin jump off her arms, and it trotted joyfully around, paying little to no attention to the chosen leader. It ran around in circles, enjoying the weather, as Newt looked at her with tears in her eyes. Albus, without breaking the gaze from Grindelwald, walked up to Orlaith and helped her to get up. She jerked, suddenly, as if she didn't expect his help.

"How are you holding up?" he whispered. Her gaze was stern as she only allowed him to take her by the shoulder and raise to her feet. She immediately stepped away, closer to Credence. He met her halfway.

Qilin, meanwhile, was making her way through the crowd, towards Santos. The noble witch kneeled before the animal, bowing her head low. People started forming a circle around Grindelwald as his face hardened. He saw that the Qilin had chosen, and his own, barely alive, infernally blue, was now wandering aimlessly at the edge of the platform, unused. He opened his mouth to say something poisonous at the wands ponting at him, but was interrupted.

"Ow! Ah!" Credence talked for the first time. His face was bubbling and he grabbed on it, searching support in Orlaith. She, too, was shaking, grimacing. In front of the amazed crowd, the two seemingly changed places, and Orlaith was now holding onto Credence, and Credence stood where she had stood before. He was the one who had saved the butterfly.

"Ha! The most amazing thing I'd seen in a long time!" Albus laughed. He was so relieved. Meanwhile, Gellert finally recognized the girl.

"You. I knew the chains had meant something".

"Oh", she grimaced, "shut up!"

There was a swirl of spells. Green, blue, orange flashes flew towards Gellert, and he fended them all. Orlaith pulled Credence a little at the side, seeing that he was on his last leg. He was very pale, although visibly holding on. She searched for Aberfot with her eyes. He was making his way to them, but with the pushing crowd, it wasn't easy. She noticed Credence was, although he stood on one knee, looking closely at Albus.

There was a pause in the shootout, as Gellert tried to voice towards the wizards. Albus was impatient, clutching his wand, but he could only fight the servants, not the lord. The chain was choking him.

"You know, I wish I had broken your chains", Credence muttered. Orlaith followed his gaze.

"Accio!" he screamed, in the last burst of energy. Everything seemed to slow down. She felt that, together, they were something more. In between the moving bodies, preparing to attack Grindelwald again, she could see the long silver chain with the blood-red-hearted vile sprung in the air. Dumbledore was pulled along with it, barely keeping himself on his feet. She aimed as well as she could, which was relatively new to her; she just usually shot in wide bursts, hoping to shatter as much as possible.

"Reducto".

Golden lightning flashed out of her wand for she was the Golden Witch. Credence felt her shining next to him, keeping him warm, as he let her lean on his shoulder for support. The spell, released by her, wasn't just a breaking curse. It was her ancient magic that made it incredibly strong. It was so strong that it could destroy the heartbreak, the betrayal, the sorrow. It crashed into the vile, and the little glass bottle exploded in the air.

Dumbledore was free.

Aberfort finally grabbed Credence and carried him ten steps away, holding him in his arms. Their fingers unclutched, and Orlaith moved her wand towards the dark wizard. Dumbledore's blue, and her golden curses flew towards him, as he twisted as best as he could to avoid being hit, dancing like a fencer. She saw some familiar faces, the faces that visited Hogwarts, fall, and stepped closer. Credence's shirt was far too big for her, so, she rolled her sleeves very quickly. That second she spent on it cost her a would on her neck, burning like hell. She rubbed the spot and focused again. Let the surge of magic of the earth itself thunder down on him. She put her wand up, and people stepped back, watching. Gellert locked eyes with her. She threw her hand down, and the pillar or purple fire engulfed him.

"Dumbledore!" she screamed, holding the trap. He wasn't easy to keep, actually. She could feel his pushback, and was horrified. Albus shot through the purple, curse after curse, and soon, the others joined. The howling mass of the pillar held Grindelwald as he was forced to his knees inside. He managed to break the curse with Protego Diabolica, from the third try, no less; by this moment Orlaith had redefined all she knew about her skills. She had never, she realized, met a wizard of such power, and her careless, insinctive use of ancient magic was only good with crooks. Otherwise, focus just wasn't enough to defeat someone so masterful. But the ring of fire grew, fighting the blue flames. She was getting exhausted quickly, feeling the supportive curses around, but the magic drained her for energy. Blue dragon was growing, consuming the purple fire, and her anger was the last thing that still held up. She thought of Credence. Credence, the boy she refused to let go of, dying ten steps away from her. Someone who never knew love and yet, sacrificed his little freedom for her, twice. His sculpted pale face with heavy, dark, intelligent eyes. The way he made her feel as his hand touched her neck softly, almost with fright. She screamed and pushed, she didn't even put any words to the blow. She just pushed Grindelwald as hard as she could, like a child would push another child on the playground. He flew up, picked up by the purple flash, and was thrown off the edge.

Suddenly, it was all quiet. People rushed towards the end of the platform to see, but he was gone. Maybe disintegrated in the fire, or maybe, disapparated in the air.

She bent and held onto her knees, like Credence, while he was parodying her. All was quiet for some time. Someone was scratching their head. Orlaith panted, looked up at the stormy skies, felt the June cold on her face.

"Alright, you were right. And Black was right, I need to learn more", she admitted to approaching Albus. He smiled like she knew he would always smile at children he protected.

"That was quite a spectacle".

"Is he gone?"

"Gone, yes, dead - unlikely".

He patted her on the shoulder lightly. His hand was scarred from the chain.

"Thank you for that, by the way. That was the most exquisit job from you two".

She turned around to look for Credence.

"They had disapparated. To Hogsmeade, I presume".

People were slowly gathering around her, dozens of curious eyes, which she didn't like. She realized the translation into sanctuaries and places of viewership was still happening.

"Can I... also go, please?" she asked, huddling closer to Professor. He embraced her by the shoulder, and she clutched on Newt, too, to shield herself. They both held her.

"Yes, let's go. And you'll need to tell me where the hell you have been".

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A week ago, Credence landed himself, and Orlaith, with the Qilin, on top of the Astronomy Tower where she guided him. He swayed and fell on one knee because his head spun for a second. Orlaith collapsed, too, but managed to keep the baby in her outstretched arms. She quickly stood up and unfolded the Cloak.

"Are you alright? Credence?"

He took her hand and pulled himself up.

"Yes".

He was not. All his body was being bitten off by frost from his bones. The monster inside of him was raging, knapping. He couldn't lift his right arm. He let the night air soothe him a little, and then Orlaith threw the mantle over him. She stepped so close that he could see every freckle on her nose.

"What's that?"

"A family heirloom. You remember when Grindelwald - Graves - gave you that necklace? Doesn't matter. It's the Cloak of Invisibility".

He didn't ask where they were going, just looked around. He had to hold her around her waist not to let the Cloak slip off of his head. He found it uncomfortable and inappropriately fantastic. He couldn't even think while she was in his arms. In fact, the pain ceased just a little, and it became easier to breathe. He was staring around curiously as they sneaked down the winding stairs.

"Oh, so good it's the nighttime" she whispered, tickling his face with her hair. "No students".

He obeyed her motions, stopping when she stopped, and whispering to the baby when it made noises. Slowly, because they were both adults, and with a baby dragon deer, while the Cloak was designed for only one person - made their way to the lower level. Suddenly, Credence heard conversation. They stepped to the wall, the Qilin between them, two of their palms covering its mouth carefully and gently.

Two students in green ties were treading down the hallway. They stood still while the two boys passed, and then, after a while, Orlaith grumbled,

"Of course it's Slytherin".

And pulled him further.

Finally, they were standing in front of an empty, flat wall. She took the Cloak off and rolled in under her arm.

"What is it?" he asked.

She couldn't hide how excited she was all of a sudden.

"This, Credence, is the Room of Requirement. One of the most tremendous places in Hogwarts. Take my hand".

He complied happily. A rare bird, ghostly bird of freedom was flapping its wings in his chest. Excitement for magic, something unfamiliar to him before, contageously, travelled to him from her. For a moment, he wasn't aching, or tired, or on the run. He was just a boy, looking impatiently, in wonder, at the wall which was changing, transforming, into a door.

She pushed the door, and they entered a huge, light, spacious room with thick red carpet on the floor, with high, tall windows in the ceiling, through which the impossible daylight was flowing; the walls were covered in portraits of witches and banners of birds, and animals, and statues of incredible beasts were in every corner. It was warm here, safe, quiet. Something bubbled peacefully on the intricatly ornamented purple potion desk at the wall; it was an amazing place. In front of him, across the room, there was what looked like a greenhouse entrance, which glowed with white light. As Orlaith let the Qilin go, the baby immediately raced towards the entrance and, in the soft pearl glow, she disappeared inside.

"We're safe here. Not even Grindelwald can find us here, the Room is hidden deep inside the castle, and no one can acess it, who hadn't been inside before".

There were steps leading up onto a little balcony. On either side of it, on the platform, were doors. The left one had the same ethereal glow, but it was somehow bluer. On the other side, the door was most usual, but with a sign of a fairy on it.

"You can stay here. Hey, I'll go pick up dinner".

He drew a breath, still looking around.

"Is this all yours?"

"Well, the Room provides me with what I need. But I designed some of it", she nodded towards potion tabel and two botanic desks with some sort of yellow flowers growing.

"Can I... can I sit?" Credence motioned towards a big, dark-red armchair standing next to a bookcase.

"Of course. Of course, hey, do what you want here. This is going to be our home for the next week, I suppose. Are you hungry?"

He wasn't hungry, he was awashed with the feeling he couldn't put to words. Most likely it was savage, reckless hope. As Orlaith disappeared under the Cloak and left the room, he changed his mind against the armchair. He wanted to see what the gates were, and followed the Qilin.

When Orlaith returned, she found Credence in the vivarium, watching the baby play. She brought her dinner, too, and the beast started stuffing her face. She was growing, and ate all the time now. Orlaith munched on banana bread and had left some food for him in the room. She pulled on his hand, breaking his sunbathing in the field.

"Leave her be", she panted, with a smile, "I want to show you the ocean".

They left the first vivarium and took the stairs onto the balcony. Credence awed at how many books there were here. They entered the second glowing gate, and at first, he thought, he had another episode for there was noise in his head. Blinking in the white sunlight, he realized that it was the noise of the ocean. Grumbling pleasantly, licking on the sharp grey rocks, it was reaching its waves towards him. Orlaith was already running towards the water while he stood, and watched her. She threw herself in the water in her clothes like she was suffocating without it.

The sun did not recognize his white, paperthin skin. He felt out of place here, a black ink spot on this harmonious beach. But he walked on, he removed his shoes and felt the sand under his feet, and then walked into the water to make sure it felt real. It was amazing how he had been kept in a dark tower in the land of eternal winter, where iron bit him, and only ravens circled above the chasm below his windows, and suddenly he was saved. He was utterly saved, he was happy, his shoulders bending forwards, as his knees caved in. He sat in the sand and was silent, tasting the salt of the ocean. Orlaith joined him soon, water dripping from her.

"It looks and feels absolutely real, doesn't it?"

He asked himself if it has all been a dream.

"Does anybody leave here? Any animals?" he wondered.

"Only fish and very small crustaceans. And there, in the field, tiny beetles". She smiled. Her eyes were concerned, palpating his face. She gathered her hair into a bun. Credence looked at her neck and the sunbeams from her earrings on her skin.

She laid her head onto his shoulder, and they watched the waves until the sun started to roll across the water. The ocean was quietening, stepping back lightly, the shining changing from white to gold.

Several days have passed, and each day he was coming to the beach. There were cracks on his arms that wouldn't heal, the general weakness which he felt every day right in the morning. He knew what it meant, the boneache and the black visible through his skin. His body was only going to hold on long enough to go through with the plan which they now could finally discuss in detail.

In the bedroom, behind the door with the fairy sign, Orlaith slept in the bed to the left, with the baby curled at her side; and Credence slept in the right. In the evenings, days and mornings, they discussed what they would do. He watched Orlaith cutting the yellow and red flowers off the bushes with thin silver scissors; they dined in the next room where the narrow corridor led. In the oval shaped hall, the knight armour was displayed at the wall, and the banners: red, green, yellow, and blue. She explained that those were the four houses of Hogwarts, but Credence had already known about it. Grindelwald had told him a lot about Hogwarts, the place that Dumbledore had chosen over him. Still, he liked to listen to her as she spoke of Gryffindor. Most of the things in her Room were noble wine-red and orange, in the colors of her house. She said he would make the first Dumbledore who's destined for Slytherin. He asked why. She smiled like it was obvious. Your bravery is quiet, she said, and you're dark. You were right about it, you are dark, but your darkness is the darkness of the room where treasures are hidden. And you're smart, since you're reading my thoughts. In your pursuit of your name you almost turned over the mountains, and nothing could stop you. That makes you a Slytherin, the quiet menace, the undiscovered hero.

"And you're so dark-haired, you look like one", she shrugged. Credence found this playful categorisation entertaining.

"And what exactly makes you a Gryffindor?" he asked.

"Well, I'm super powerful".

He snorted right in his tea and apologized. Her smile turned into a laugh.

"You have- do you have any ancient magic by any chance?" he asked. "I don't think you've ever mentioned".

"That's what makes me a Gryffindor", she nodded, still laughing. "Dumbledore constantly tells me I'm too self-reliant and reckless. But it's really hard not to be, whent he earth itself helps you. Also, I'm a Peverell. All Peverells historically are Gryffindors, and they descend from the Gryffindor himself".

"The founder?"

"Uh-huh".

"But did you ever find who you were?" he remembered suddenly. He saw this question ruined her mood in an instance. She gave him an uneasy, doubtful glance. He got frightened.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Instead, she moved closer to him as if she wanted protection.

"I never did, no. I'm occupying the name, the body of an Orlaith Peverell who lived in the sixteenth century. She was, it seems, a lot like me, so I guess, I grew into the persona. But..."

She looked at Credence with trusting eyes.

"I have come into this world after I died. But I was born elsewhere". She put her palms up on the table and observed them. Credence, out of habit, dared to touch them, and she didn't pull away.

"I was born in the world with no magic, no magic at all. Just the planet full of... muggles".

She said the last word almost with disgust.

"I don't remember what it is".

"A no-maj. As a child, I used to read books about magic, but it was so painfully unreal. I grew up with these stories about this magical child who defeated the dark wizard. He was born just like me, thinking he was usual, and then found that he was a powerful warlock. That was the most amazing thing that happened to me. As I was growing up, I got so hung on these stories, that I spent all my time in the countryside, in the woods, looking for the special door leading to the world of magic. And I couldn't find it". She was grim as she spoke, as if she was old. What if she was old?

"Then I became an adult and realized it had all been just a story. Just a product of imagination of a writer. In our world, Credence, we didn't have dragons, and broomsticks, and prophecies, no purple enchantments, no elves, no wizarding schools. Just.... work, buses, taxes, relationships. You get up every day and go to work, and then come back and watch TV... and then go to sleep at night and listen to the traffic".

Credence thought of this world as almost amazing. If he had been born to a place where magic didn't exist, perhaprs he wouldn't have been abandoned. He wouldn't have turned out like he did, he would be normal.

"So... that's how you know the future? You read about... us... in the books?"

"Yes. But everything is differen already. Because I didn't use to be in them".

He thought of the concept.

"The worst thing is that I started a family there".

He was taken aback.

"You... had a husband?"

Something like a thorn stung him in the stomach, phantom. Not the obscurial. Other type of pain.

"Yes. But the thing is, that life almost seems like a dream to me now. I forgot my name, or his, and I barely remember anymore... I think, with time, I'll start thinking that that muggle world was no more than a bad dream. A dream".

She looked at him.

"What if it was?" He mused, "just a long dream?"

She shrugged.

"Maybe. The view of the house doesn't seem to leave me. It was autumn, I died in September. I know I left them behind, and I feel... so awful".

He was shaken to his core. He wasn't sure even Grindelwald heard about things like that. There had to be some meaning to her having ancient magic now. She didn't look like a muggle at all, not even in her previous life. He witnessed her lower her shoulders.

"I'm sorry".

"I would not go back", she said quietly, "even if the hellhounds dragged me by my ankles".

They let the thought soar onto the soft carpet.

"Well", she let her hand snake onto his chest and felt for his watch in the pocket. Credence was still getting used to that. He would stay in place, not a muscle move in his body, in concern that she could be scared off. All the while sweat breaking onto his neck from expecting a blow.

"It's late, and tomorrow's the Day", she clicked the watch closed and gave it back to him, "I'll go wash in the river". He nodded, strange feeling of readiness in him. He knew this could be very well the last evening of his life.

Orlaith was thinking about the next morning. They had already decided how they would apparate, how they could avoid being tracked while travelling. And what they would do. Late evening light in her impeccably realistic vivarium made the air relatively cold for the skin straight out of the river. As she walked out onto the grass and picked up he robe, she saw Credence at the gate. She jumped, putting the robe around herself quicky. She called his name, and he started moving. Something eerie was in the way he walked, without the usual stoop, planting his feet firmly into the ground. Unpleasant paranoic feeling crawled onto her skin as she found the baby with her eyes, grazing hundred steps away. She didn't have her wand, she wouldn't think of it. She trusted Credence completely, she knew him. As they approached each other, she decided there was something different. His face was ready and meaningful. He towered over her.

"I was in the river, Credence", she reproached him. He didn't stoop his eyes like he always did, but on the opposite, made them travel onto her neck and then back to her face.

"You need to be ready for tomorrow".

"I am".

"You need to be ready for my death".

He caught her hands which flew to his head.

"Credence, I told you-"

"I know, I know. You won't accept it, and you need me to fight".

In the silence between them his white hand let go of hers, and she touched the side of his face.

"But no matter how long I'm fighting, the obscurial is eating me. And I'm quite tired of fighting it".

Orlaith didn't know what to say. She was childishly opposed. She wanted to shake her head and stomp her foot. He held her wrist so softly, like she was an artifact.

"I want you to know something", he added. Taking her hand, he opened her palm.

"The elf wouldn't think of bringing you the ointment. I made it myself, for burns, from the slug-dragons we used to have at the circus. I sent it with him because I had been listening to your conversations with Skender".

Her throat was caught in a spasm.

"You took care of me".

He kissed her palm like he did before. He kept it to his face as if he was trying to hide. He used to have nothing, he thought. And now he knew who he was, and he had love. He had felt love, he had felt loved. And he was happy.

As his name left her lips again, he touched her neck, traced the invisible line to her shoulder, and back. They kissed, his darkness dissipating a little, with the warm summer fog. The powerful feeling of hope left him through the pores in his skin, for he didn't need hope anymore.

The light was leaving the sky. The need shoved them close to each other, and they held on, watching each others' eyes in the twilight. Now Orlaith didn't know what to say because she had said it many times. She needed him. She wouldn't let him go. She was stubborn, and selfish, and he just watched as she clung on his cooling hand.

"We go tomorrow", he said finally. "Don't be upset".

"I'm not upset", she argued. "Are you upset?"

"No".

The play of words made him smile a little.

"I was thinking. Do you have a Change-Up potion?"

Orlaith frowned.

"What's a Change-up potion?" there was again a spark of fun in her eyes. Maybe he made her drunk a little.

"It's the potion which makes you look like the other person".

"Aaahh. The Polyjuice potion".

"The Poly... juice", he chuckled, kissing her face.

"I don't. You know it takes a month to preapre it, right?"

She thought.

"But I can steal it from Sharp. He must have some in the Potions class".

"Do you need help?"

She looked sheepish but in the end, managed to get it together.

"No, you better stay here. Grindelwald must be looking for you. I'll be quick".

He let her hand slide off his shoulder, and traced her arm with his fingers. What if in a dream, he thought, watching her leave the vivarium, they were both very boring, non-magical? And there would be a lifetime of this, of him being able to hold her like that?

She shoved her head back suddenly.

"Oi! Why do we need Polyjuice potion again?"

"Well, to confuse everybody even further".

"But we'll need to be silent, because voices don't change".

"I know".

"And you'll need to act like me, you know?"

"So, a lot of cursing?"

She nodded energetically,

"A lot!"

#ezra miller imagine #credence barebone #credence barebone imagine #hogwarts legacy #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts imagine #albus dumbledore #grindelwald #newt scamander

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freedomforthewin · 9 months ago

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Birthday Celebration With Friends—An Imagine

Imagine Newt, Theseus, Queenie, Jacob, Tina, Lally, and Albus celebrated your 30th birthday with you. Jacob made mini gluten-free, dairy-free, and nutmeg-free apple pies (because it’s also Pi Day, and you love pie but have dietary restrictions), Queenie and Lally made your favorite food for dinner, Tina got the place cleaned and set up, Albus and Theseus shopped for the grocery items and also brought over a few games to play, and Newt handcrafted you a gift that you loved.

You all had a great time together, eating, laughing, and playing games. They looked at you with so much warmth in their eyes, and they were so happy to be there with you.

They loved you so much. And you loved them so much, too, and you loved being there with them, too. You were so happy.

It was a great birthday.

———————End of Imagine———————

It’s crazy that I’m 30 now. I’m not in my 20s anymore. Wow. That’s kinda scary lol.

#Fantastic Beasts imagine #Reader’s birthday #The reader turned 30 #Friends #Chosen family #Newt Scamander #Theseus Scamander #Queenie Goldstein #Jacob Kowalski #Tina Goldstein #Lally Hicks #Albus Dumbledore #They love you #You love them

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epilogue-and-prologue · 2 years ago

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Masterlist - HP Universe

Marauders: Armotentia - Romantic/List - What would they think of when smelling the Armotentia potion ? x Reader

Sirius Black Love Letter - Romantic/Angst/Mention of death/Child - Sirius x Reader

Severus Snape Family - Friends with Benefits to Lovers/Pregnancy/Commitment - Severus x Reader

Fantastic Beasts (first movie) Credence Barebone Sweet Old Child Of Mine - Touch - Platonic/Friendship/Children/Abuse/Guilt/Poverty/Death -

#hp #harry potter #harry potter imagines #marauders imagine #fantastic beasts imagine

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talesoftheesun · 1 year ago

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📂 c:\users\sunny

ㄴ 📄 read before requesting

my inbox is always open for suggestions but I’ll most likely fulfill them in order of which I’m most inspired to write at the time, as opposed to a “first come, first serve” basis. that being said, here are some things to keep in mind.

✓ I‘ll write crack, fluff, angst, mature, and bad attempts of smut.

✓ I write female or gender neutral readers. I’ll write whichever feels best to me, but I try to make most of my fics gender neutral.

✓ the more specific, the better!

✗ I don't write named MC's.

✗ I don’t write for character/member x character/member ships (i.e. meanie, drarry). poly relationships including a reader are fine.

✗ I will not write abusive/toxic relationships. jealousy/possessive themes will be dialed down to the lowest.

✗ I will not write degradation, non-con, abuse, sexual assault, or extreme bdsm (sadism). those things just don’t do it for me.

here's a list of characters and people I write for.

you can request here and check out my other works here!

#pls remember i'm just writing for fun and english isn't my first language #so don't get mad if i say i can't or won't do ur request for whatever reason #sun.txt #sun.fic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts mystery imagine #hp imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #marauders fanfiction #fantastic beasts imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #marauders imagine #fantastic beasts fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #wizarding world

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 10 months ago

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✨️Masterlist 1✨️

John Egan:

I'll come pick it up after / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / End /

Did you just kiss me?

Alright, bet!

Protect You

Back to black

Until you come back home / 2 /

Stop trying to feel everything

Inventor

Soft and prude

Small space

Run!

You want my jacket?

Kiss me before you leave

I hate / love you

Princess and the fool

I have a plan

You're like me, but better

New Girl

Never felt so...

Too Sweet

Chicken

Callum Turner:

Co- Stars / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 /

Qué serà serà

Finals season

Joe Rantz:

Training / 2 /

Theseus Scamander

Young, dumb in love

Curtis Biddick

Daylight

Your idiot?

You have to live

Gale Cleven

Told you she was real

Who did this to you?

Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Therapist

Ronald Speirs

Disguise

John Brady

Misunderstanding

Austin Butler

Fame / 2 / 3 / 4 /

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oncasette · 1 year ago

Note

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂. send in a character + a scenario for a blurb + 𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔

annnddd another one just for fun lolzies. theseus + the prompt “that’s the sixth time you’ve complimented me today.”

"you smell good," you hum as you dig your face further into your fiancé's lap. his feet were propped up on the coffee table in front of the couch, one hand splayed wide to keep the small paperback open in front of his face while the other toyed with the lacy hem of your slip where it rested at the tops of your thighs. your nose edged along the waistband of his bottoms and the warm cotton he'd pulled out of the dryer barely a half hour ago.

"darling, are you feeling alright?" he asks as he tabs his book and drops it onto the other end of the couch beside your feet.

"fine, love. just happy," you say. "why?"

"well that's just the sixth time you've complimented me today," he chuckles. his hand smooths out over your skin and you can feel the heat seeping into your bones.

"i can't compliment my betrothed?"

"your betrothed, huh?" he asks as he taps on your hip to get you to sit up. his grip tightens as he helps to situate over his thighs so that you're straddling him.

"mhm," you buzz. "you can't take it back now, either. i've got a ring to prove it."

"is that right?" he leans forward until your noses are touching.

"that's right," you say. he pecks your lips once, twice, before he's kissing you fully. his head tilts and his tongue breaches the gap between your lips.

"mrs. scamander has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" he asks once he's pulled away. his fingers come up to brush back the hair that's fallen into your face. nodding, you press forward to reconnect your lips.

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #harry potter #fbawtft #harry potter imagine #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts and where to find them imagine #callum turner #callum turner x reader

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Stuck Outside

Characters: Reader, Niffler, Pickett

Warnings: Cuteness?

Summary: You were left behind while Newt entered the chasm to retrieve his brother. Fortunately, you were with two of his trusted companions.

Waiting for Newt to rescue his brother was a painful task. Teddy was making some small noises from his locked cage for a few minutes now as you paced.

“I know it’s been a while.” You answered. “I can’t imagine that they’ve made it easy.”

The guard grunted, looking from the niffler to the human. “You can understand that thing?”

You glanced at him for a split second and sent the man a scathing look. Pickett piped up from her side of the cage and you turned your attention to the bowtruckle.

“Nothing will happen to Newt, I promise.”

Teddy chittered and you scoffed. “No, you can’t can’t take a trip to Gringotts if something goes wrong.”

You were already stressed about not being there to help and Newt’s beasts weren’t helping. You continued to pace and noticed an orange crab-like creature scurrying across the floor until it slid beneath the metal bars and into the deep prison cave.

At first you didn’t think much of it but when you caught a glimpse of its stinger, it clicked! It was a manticore. You had documented the fearsome critters a few years ago for Newt’s book, recalling that they travel only with the mother beast, dislike bright lights, and there could be thousands at a time.

Fearing that that was what lurking in the cells beneath, you ran towards the gate and grabbed the bars only to receive a sharp jolt which threw you a few paces back.

“Damn it!” you cursed.

Stepping close once again, you were careful not to make contact and instead cupped your hands around your mouth. Taking in a deep breath, you let out a high-pitched whistle that bounced down the cavern walls. You paused and then repeated the sound twice.

It was a warning call that you and Newt had established, to the untrained ear it sounded like a noise but to Newt and yourself, it was a message.

Manticore. Swivel.

Suddenly, you were grabbed by the back of your shirt and pulled backwards by the guard.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growled, shoving you back towards the desk. “Your friends are as good as dead.” You smacked into the edge of the hard stone and rubbed your arm as the man turned his back to eat.

If you had your wand on you, you would have turned him into a toad.

Pickett chirped. Escape?

You scowled at the man’s head and turned your gaze to Newt’s critters, shooting them a wink. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts x reader #newt imagine #newt x reader #newt scamander imagine #newt scamander x reader

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saintsstranger · 4 months ago

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the art of lies | t.s. (fantastic beasts) - chapter three

Chapter Summary: secrets are meant to be unraveled

Pairings: Theseus Scamander x Fem!Reader

genre: romance, mature audience intended

warnings: mature themes, implied sexual content, sexworker protagonist, pleasure house (brothel), smoking

the art of lies masterlist

BENEATH THE STEPS OF THE ARCHWAY and golden street lamp, Theseus would’ve thought you looked heavenly. Almost resembling an angel.

With your hand holding onto a luggage with all your belongings, waiting for him.

“Run away with me?”

You would’ve asked. And right at the moment, Theseus needed not to think about the future, he would say yes.

He didn’t understand why or how it came to be. You were an angel of seduction, smiling at him with a hand outstretched. Only for your eyes to not gleam like he wanted to.

This was a sweet— sweet lie.

What stands in front of him was not you. Merely a shadow of wistful thinking. This was just Theseus’ imagination playing tricks on him. A mere wish from the heart.

Is it because he has been through war for years, and the only sign of romantic attraction he had was back when he was still in Hogwarts, rejected because he was not from the House of Slytherin. This was not a school-boy crush; this relationship—whatever it is he is threading into is such a dangerous game. And this far surpasses such simple childish attractions.

How easy it is for you to tear him apart, break his mind, graze your teeth on his pulse, and make him bleed, but instead, you chose not to. It was pathetic to think he came apart so quickly, he wasn’t always like this. He was a child of war, and he had seen it first hand. And Theseus trusted you fully, baring his heart, mind, and soul.

You only wanted one thing: safety. He can see right in your eyes, the freedom; the ability to walk out of this unscathed. And Theseus would gladly give it to you if it meant the world. The responsibility of keeping you safe didn’t feel like a burden; it was a promise he was willing to burn the world for.

And for his vow to be true, he needed a way in—just like you thought him, he needed leverage to offer to Madame Blanche, something she does not have. If this was the only way you’d ever get to leave, then he was ready to get his hands dirty.

To be standing right where it began, he looked at the looming structure of Amour Délicat. The over-nauseating scent of floral-filled his senses, the bite of the cold air was fueling his nerves to a full. This time, he feared, let him grovel to the ground and beg to let you go. He would look into your eyes and, this time, he will ask for you to run away.

Running away with him? Might be a fool's wish.

Then consider him a fool.

Although there seems to be quite a predicament, Theseus is currently facing two problems. The first is that there is a recent development about the case of the missing delegate.

Charles Moore had been found. A big problem is that he is dead, located in the muggle world with traces of cruciatus curse lingering on their mangled body. When Theseus and Torquil Travers heard the news, they immediately knew that this was done by someone who wanted to know that their threats were not to be taken lightly. If they had dumped his body right on the grounds of the muggles, then they were a threat, someone who is not afraid to showcase magical acts in front of non-magical people. Someone who wants the world to know about them, the wizarding world.

And the biggest problem he is currently facing is that you haven’t talked to him in two weeks, no letters or planned rendezvous. You must have known what happened to the missing delegate and presumed that your job with Theseus was done, therefore, ceasing contact. Theseus vowed he would provide you safety, and right now you had gone back into hiding; you must have felt disappointed with him. And Theseus who never grew desperate, who always has his head on his shoulders, is running out of options.

Just like the first week he had met you. He came barging right in, and the receptionist's eyes widened in recognition at the sight of the auror. Madame Blanche had posted details about being wary of British Aurors getting information, but it did not pass by the woman’s mind. Since the auror came alone, it must be just another customer wanting a night of debauchery, giving him her customer service smile.

“Welcome to Amour Délicat, where the finest maidens and bachelors are always catered to your liking. How can we be of service?”

Like a practiced mantra, the receptionist did not miss a beat. Theseus looked at her, then the surrounding areas, not scanning like it was a crime scene rather looking for something… or someone.

“You wish to avail a particular flower, then?” Her voice became white noise to Theseus' senses as he looked for you in the nook and cranny of the lounge. After a minute, Theseus returned to his senses and stared right back at the woman before him.

“No. I am here to gather an audience with Madame Blanche.” That was unpredictable.

“Oh! Then I’ll put you on hold. I need to talk to Madame about your presence. I’ll let you know if she declines your request.” It was clear to Theseus he was unwanted here. After making a ruckus the last time he was here, the young lady at the receptionist must have thought he was here for a service. With a nod, Theseus waited as the young woman walked towards the backroom.

Theseus turned around once more; even with broad daylight Amour Délicat was still full of clients roaming about. If it weren’t for the kind of establishment Amour Délicat has, this would've looked like a regular instance, but the patrons that walked in and out were enshrouded in the anonymity of their privacy. Faces covered by hoods were probably from a line of work that valued discreteness; meanwhile, Theseus and many others were unprepared or were simply here for pleasure, their faces evident in the light, unaware of the possibility of showing face.

Right at the main lounge, the dooming sound of the elevator from Madame Blanche sounded turning around Theseus expected it was Madame Blanche, but the footsteps were far heavier. Far too commanding.

As soon as the piercing gray eyes of the man landed on Theseus, his eyes lit up with recognition.

“If it isn’t the world-renowned war hero, Mr. Scamander.” The man smiled as he stepped straight towards the auror. As soon as the man looked Theseus eye-to-eye, the auror couldn’t but list all the people he had known throughout his lifetime.

“I apologize. I might’ve come off as brash. Could not help myself to be ecstatic to meet the man who violated Archer Evermonde's emergency legislation. Takes a lot of nerve to help the non-magical people and be an enemy of the wizarding world.” The man held out his right hand, ready to introduce himself. “I’m Baudelaire, Pierre Baudelaire.”

André Baudelaire, the French Minister of Magic. Theseus has only seen him twice in his lifetime, and it was evident with their eyes that Pierre was his son. Eyes that loomed over anyone who looked their way. 3

Theseus gave him his professional smile and shook Pierre's hand firmly.

“I wouldn’t say I was the enemy of the wizarding community; I did what I had to do to help those in need.” Theseus, ever the hero, replied. Letting go of Pierre’s hand as the other man hummed.

“A noble cause for their people… and to be awarded as a hero.” Pierre hummed. “I say the muggles certainly live a different life, wouldn’t you say so? Passing their time through a game of darts.”

“That I would not deny, they taught me how to play a game of cards. They certainly know how to amuse themselves. I assume you to had a fair-share of their cuisine as well?” Theseus, merely inquiring, looked at the man in glee.

“Their liquor was not strong… that I would remark. Although, I was not able to stay for long unlike you had done. A simple tavern.” Pierre smiled. “Alas, I hope I am not wasting your time Mr. Scamander. You must have been here for important matters.” The man started to end the conversation and gave one last pointed look at Theseus.

“I do not mind Mr. Baudelaire, it was nice talking to you.” Theseus nodded, as soon as the man was out of sight. The faint footsteps of the faint footsteps of the receptionist came to call for him. Just like the first-time Theseus walked into the halls of the establishment, he was led to lift that had a painting of white flowers dancing in the breeze.

For his second time being in the establishment, he realized what the flowers represented. All the small details, from the catalog of the courtesans being flowers and how your floor was decorated like the night sky.

And there in the middle of the room sat Madame Blanche, hands on her head as she stared at the papers scattered throughout the desk. It was a far cry from what she looked like the first time they met. Instead of the refined successful woman that greeted the aurors back then, what sat at the chair was a lady far too unkept and stressed beyond her years. Madame Blanche looked like she had too much on her plate as she stared at the unopened envelope with such intensity. And right at the floor was the lone flower out from its vase, water spilling right through the carpeted floors.

“I presume you are here for another problem, pray tell and hurry on with it. I don’t have all day to deal with you Englishmen. What do you want?” With a wave of her hand, she stared at Theseus annoyed by his presence.

“I am here to talk about—”

“Here to propose to me your grandiose dreams of buying the indenture of one of my Bouquet de Blanc? Spare me the details Mr. Scamander, she is not for sale, never will be.” Madame Blanche procured a bottle of fire whiskey.

Theseus' eyes narrowed, straightening his tie.

She is not for sale, never will be.

It was easy like that to claim your freedom and yet far from your reach, far from Theseus’ fingertips were the vows he promised you. You did not deserve that, your eyes craved the walls of freedom, the breeze of the wind as you ran away without looking back to your former job. You deserve to be free, to love like a normal human being and yet you are chained body and soul to a job you must have grown to hate.

From surviving the streets, begging crumbs off the hands of the wealthy, and now you were bound to be here forever.

“And why is that? May I ask. You let the other courtesan go easily? Why can’t she?” Theseus argued, eyes fueling with rage as the woman who sat before him only drank in her cup. With a deep sigh, the piercing stare of Madame Blanche went straight at Theseus, legilimency cursing through his veins as he felt the woman crept into his mind but Theseus knew not to yield. He had prior training, and to see what is in his mind is what his weakness scares him, you taught him that he needed leverage in every fight and he is fighting like he was back in war to protect his mind, to protect you.

“Because with you being a simple lowly auror could never afford her Mr. Scamander.” Madame Blanche scoffed, as her attempts to pry the doors of memories, thoughts and feelings remained unopened to the keys of her legilimency.

Her words as sharp as knives, as painful as the unforgivable curse spat right out into the open air.

“You are here to offer her love? What can that feed?” Madame Blanche stood up glaring right at Theseus.

“Oh! You wish for a home? Do you think you can protect her with brick walls made of love? Or you wish to have a family consisting of three? Do you think your children will ask why her mother kept so many secrets? Or how about enemies? You think with all the secrets she knows, there would be no one in the world who would want her dead the moment she stepped foot outside of these very walls? How about when she becomes a mother? Do you think she can handle caring for a child when all she has known in her life is to fight for what she needs… to beg in the streets… Do you think she will be gentle like how your mother was to you? How about you, will you be able to stay through her worst throughout your whole life?”

Theseus was silent.

“Foolish, that’s what you are Mr. Scamander. I have met the exact fools like you once, and he ended up being a disappointment.” Madame Blanche whispered, her words growing cold in the wind as did her fingertips that grazed lightly in his shoulder.

“You’re wrong.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I came here for her freedom not for love. I came here not to act as a hero rather as a helping hand. Yes, I am foolish but I’ll fight through Azkaban and back to give her what she desperately wants… and if you can’t see that then you must be the foolish one.”

Madame Blanche paused when Theseus stood up and looked at him straight in her eyes. He is indeed a respectable young man, too heroic for his age, too naive of the hurt he will walk through as soon as he opens the doors of Pandora's box of letting you free. Yet, Madame Blanche admired him for that.

“As much, as this meeting is amusing to me Mr. Scamander, I do commend you for standing your ground. You are too naive—” As Madame Blanche walked towards her chair.

Theseus has seen it, Madame Blanche’s eyes. “You two are the same.”

“You are great liars, but there is a slight tell-tale of the both of you lying. I can see right through it without needing to pry your mind. Like mother… like daughter.” The truth coming right off Theseus lips like waterfall as the whole room has gone cold.

“What did you say?” Madame Blanche remained steadfast unlooking towards Theseus' revelations.

“That’s why you have gone to great lengths to find her, you wanted to protect your own daughter, and the only way for you to see her safe is to add her in your catalog. You didn’t want anyone prying into your weakness and using her against you. Yet here you are, bare to the world as you remain not looking at me, it’s because it is the truth. Isn’t it, Madame Blanche de Roux?”

Madame Blanche's jaw went rigid.

“Who was it? How did you know?” Madame Blanche’s stare was far from what she looked earlier, this far by surpass the anger that he had seen earlier.

“From her.” He didn’t mean it, Theseus never did but whenever you are traversing his minds as you are giving him your memories, another door opens and this time he had seen what looks to be an old door.

In that memory, curiosity got the better of him as he had seen what seems to be Madame Blanche cooing at the young babe in her arms. But the words he could never understand as the couple before him fought, the only notable about the man was his own uniform of the french auror. There stood in front of him a nameless man, worried lines written all over his feature as he kissed her daughter goodbye. Daughter which features the same face that stood before Theseus. One could never forget.

“Your own daughter unknowingly showed me a memory.”

a/n: prepared for the long-due author's note

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poeticallyspiteful · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there.

Maybe a newt x f reader where reader its a healer ( doctor) . reader was a friend of theseus and they were working on a case from the Ministry of magic. Thank you so much ❤️

kiss it better

newt scamander x reader

fluff (making out)

cw: unedited, blood, a lil bit of ~suggestiveness~/(okay a lot a bit of suggestiveness i write like a romance novelist sometimes lol sorry not sorry), making out, newt is ripped and hot as hell

summary: newt gets injured and theseus knows the perfect person to kiss it better.

notes: thank you so much for the request love!!! i wasn’t sure exactly what you were looking for with this one so i just used my imagination so i do hope you like it. feel free to request something more if you don’t though :))

16+ please!!

“theseus, this is ridiculous, let go of me.”

it was a small cut, just a little one. a small mishap with alone of his creatures, that was all. such a tiny little ailment.

“it is bleeding profusely and goes all the way across your stomach, newt!” theseus exclaimed, pulling his brothers coat sleeve like a child dragging their parents through a candy store. “she’s very nice, you know that.”

oh, newt knew you were nice— that was the problem. you were so nice, so pretty, so incredibly everything that newt could hardly bare it. years and years of friendship with you and he could hardly even contain his joy at the sound of your laugh, at the mere sight of you. it made it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to exist when all he could focus on was you.

“you’re working a case, theseus,” newt sighed, allowing his brother to pull him up the stairs to your apartment. “she’s probably reviewing files or something, it would be rude to interrupt her work.”

but the scamander brothers were already outside your door, and theseus was already knocking. before newt could brace himself for the wave of love sickness that would inevitably hit him the second he saw you, the door swung open and there you were; nice, pretty, perfect.

“hi newt, theseus,” you greeted, chest heaving (you may have ran across the apartment the second you’d heard their voices coming down the hall) “what can i— oh merlin’s beard.”

newt looked down, unsurprised to see the blood had seeped through his white shirt. he gave you a lopsided smile and you rolled your eyes, a pitiful attempt to avoid eye contact with the boyish man before you.

“come inside.”

theseus all but shoved newt inside, already straightening out his suit and brushing the left over floo powder off of his shirt. he looked up to you and his brother, unphased by the confused look on your faces.

“well, i best be off.”

you gawked at him. “your— your not going to stay?” you asked. he shook his head. “theseus! your brother is injured and you’re leaving?”

“we have a case!”

“it’s really okay,” newt said, bashfully, suddenly reminding you of the reason they were there.

scoffing, you turned back to newt, waving your friend off. “workaholic,” you murdered as you began searching for your emergency bandage kit.

and with that, theseus shut the door— but not before sending his brother a mischievous wink. newt felt a shiver down his spine.

sneaky bastard.

you finally found the small red box, pulling it open and rifling through it for a disinfectant and some gaws, as well as a mini suture kit.

glancing up at newt through your eyelashes, you hummed expectantly. “shirt off,” you ordered, some foreign sort of confidence surging through you.

newt swore all the brain cells left his mind. “pardon?” he chocked, suddenly not too concerned with his injuries.

“i can’t exactly fix you through the shirt. now c’mon, we don’t have all day,” you explained.

quickly, newt obeyed, shedding his baggy coat and undoing the bloodied buttons. very quickly, he felt exposed, but the bashful look on your face made him feel more smug than anything.

you had never seen newt shirtless before now, but my lord, did you wish the sight to be engraved in your mind till the day you died. you could see the viens that traveled up his tanned arms, and as shocked to see his biceps had been rather toned under that jacket all this time. his freckles spanned all down his chest and arms as well, dancing around the thin scars across him.

for a man so cute and clever, he was sure an enthralling sight to see.

clearing your throat, you finally looked down at the wound intently, relieved to see it didn’t look like too hard of a fix. with some shallow sutures and cleaning, he’d be better in no time.

“not too bad,” you murmured without thinking, entire body going cold at the implication. shit. the clever smile on newts face grew. “i— i meant the cut isn’t too bad, doesn’t look, y’know, infected.”

“good,” newt agreed, leaning back on his arms. his abdomen tensed at the movement and he hissed at the pain. “ouch.”

before you could look at him too closely, or think too much apparently, you knealt down infront of him. however, as he opened his legs to allow you space between them, you realized the predicament you’d put yourself in.

holy fucking shit.

you looked up hesitantly, feeling your heart race at the way newt looked down at you; nervous and kind, like he was just as surprised by your position as you were.

“this might sting a little,” you announced, trying to redirect his (and yours) attention back to the real reason you were on your knees.

carefully, you wiped the cotton pad across the cut, cleaning up the blood around the wound. newt hissed again, hands gripping the blanket laid across your couch. you had to will yourself to keep your eyes on the wound.

“almost done,” you reassured, finally looking up to see newts eyes screwed shut in pain. quickly, you dabbed at the far end of the wound, bringing your hands down quickly. “all done.”

newt sighed in relief, swallowing roughly. he glanced down to his stomach, feeling his head buzz as you looked back up at him. “whatcha thinking, doc?” he teased.

you could’ve died at the irony. you could not tell him what you were thinking right now.

“well, it’ll only need a few stitches at the edges there on the left, but it should be fine otherwise. just some bandages and you’ll be good,” you answered.

“no magic?” he asked.

“sadly, my regulations to do these sorts of healing charms only spans as far as britain,” you replied. “i’m working on getting the papers here in the states, but for now, just my handy work.”

newt smiled, another grin which made you weak in the knees. “your handy work is quite good.”

you ignored the heat in your face from the praise as you began you sutures. you felt newt shiver under your hands as they fluttered across his stomach, tracing the stitches and looking for any imperfections. finally satisfied with the stitching, you taped some bandages across them, and stood up once you were done. three easy steps, and nothing went wrong—

as you took a step back, you stumbled over the edge of your rug, fumbling backwards as you tried to regain your balance. before you realized what had happened, you felt newts hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you forward.

and forward was onto his lap.

you had spoken too soon.

you caught yourself with a tight grip on his bare shoulders, the skin soft and hot under your hands. your face was barely an inch from his, and your eyes met his in a brief moment of panic.

“s-sorry, i just didn’t want you to hit your head on the coffee table,” newt whispered, eyes darting form your eyes to your lips and back again nervously. he seemed very regretful of his action at first, but he didn’t budge to move you off of him, hands gripping the flesh around your hips.

“t-thank you,” you stammered, gathering all your strength not to squirm in his arms, your heart beating faster than your blood could pump.

newts eyes found yours again, thumbs making small circles in your hip bone. “have i ever told you that you’re very pretty?” the low rasp of his voice could’ve made you faint on any ordinary day, but given that you were practically straddling him, nothing could’ve made you more lightheaded. “especially up so close.”

“newt,” you whispered.

“what, love?”

“please kiss me.”

newt closed the gap without a second thought, kissing you gently. his lips were soft, but needy, pulling away and coming back for more over and over and over again. his hands traveled from your hips all the way up to your head, resting on your jaw. you moved your hands up his neck, playing with the curls on the nape.

you whined as he pulled away entirely, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. “why’d you stop?”

“isn’t there a rule about strenuous activities post surgery?” he teased, laughing as he pressed another kiss to your lips briefly; he had waited too long to do this and he didn’t wanna stop now. “making out seems pretty strenuous to me.”

“i’ll kiss it better.”

#newt scamander x reader #newt scamander #fanfic #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #newt scamander x y/n #newt scamander x you #newt scamander fluff #fluff #newt scamander imagine

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werezmastarbucks · 1 year ago

Text

green

part one - Golden

part two - Silver

part three - Black

credence barebone x fem!OC

there was a boy, a very strange, enchanted boy

word count: 3461

author's note: it turned out as it did

Credence was dying.

He was gathering his stuff, the leftovers of his mind, and leaving this place. Meanwhile, he was watching dreams. Finally, he's seen the obscurial for what it was: a chaotic, confused creature, just like him, unsure of what to do. It wanted in, and it wanted out. It yelled, and gnawed at him, and obeyed him all the while. It didn't really want to hurt him explicitly; most of the time it was just pacing with pain. It was a wound, with blood gushing out of it, and it felt nothing but pain, so pain, it shared with him. Perhaps he shouldn't have fought it to begin with, but it was now too late. The obscurial was turning its forming head, looking around through his eyes. And when it was seeing the ceiling and the window, he saw them, too. He saw faces. The bearded face, the dark face, the freckled face, the beautiful face. It recognized some of them. It remembered the face that it carried once or twice. It knew no language, but he saw this face talking to him, pressing on his chest. Him, it, Credence, the monster. She pressed on his chest, as if trying to keep it in, not out. She sang him a song that lulled him to sleep and he started seeing dreams. It felt like he spoke to her because she replied. She dictated the pictures he saw as he slept.

There would be a boy, she was saying, who will think that the darkness will take him. But it will fail, and the boy will live, because he's strong. And Credence, she was saying, you're even stronger, I think you're stronger. Don't let the darkness take you.

He saw the dreams of New York, and those were the nightmares. He saw the snowy streets, cold, hollow, beige and white. Wind bit his hands like a dog. His skin was breaking apart and dark blood came out in droplets. The wind was so rageful. It was so cold, and he didn't have a coat, and he knew, that at home, it was worse than hell, so he awaited death. The obscurial was dripping from behind his right ear, cracking his skull in two. Someone held his hand. It was a firm, dry grip, someone was shaking him. He was dying, and he didn't recognize them much; he looked at them without any emotion, like he was an empty casket with a face.

Don't fight, don't fight, Credence, the voice said. Let it go. Let it flow.

And he did.

Orlaith left the room and closed the door quietly. It was her birthday, in the middle of summer. She didn't feel like celebrating anything, held by life and death from two sides. Equally painful.

She went outside to look at the street, for a change. They kept the window open in Credence's room at the Inn, but it was still very dense there. Very stuffy. He was releasing so much energy that it ate oxygen. Everything that's been consuming him was predatory, flesh and spirit eating. Sometimes he would tremble and shake, sometimes he would wake up and look at her, or his father, or his uncle, without a trace of recognition. In his eyes, black mist was twirling, it was the obscurial. It's the creature that was opening his eyes and peering outside, at their faces. It was the creature that made his body dance on the bed. The voice it used belonged to Credence, but it asked questions about itself. What am I, what are you, what year it was. Why is it so heavy that it can't get up. It was absolutely cemented to his body, and couldn't leave Credence, like he caged it. They were amalgamating.

She saw the older Dumbledore stroke his forehead and whisper. And the obscurial would rest, letting Credence rest, too.

There were people outside, crowded together in the dark street, like someone had used a deluminator on the streetlights. She walked on to see the stars better.

"Orlaith!" the voice called. It came from the group. She turned, looking at them, her eyes adjusting to darkness. Among them, she started recognizing faces. Oh! All of those faces she knew.

"Happy birthday?" Newt exclaimed, with a little bit of doubt.

Those were her friends. Albus Dumbledore, Newt Scamander, the Botanics teacher, Imelda Ginger, Lodgok the goblin, the farmer from the field, Mr Brance, and the serving elf from the castle, Purrypawn. Those were all her friends, she didn't have many. But they started shooting the fireworks in the air, illuminating the street in all the colors of the rainbow. The brightest one was the golden, forming a dragon up in the skies, that flew on, circling above the field, and then on and on, further into the forest. She saw the face of Tina Goldstein, her little nose crinkled in an amazing, wide smile. She'd never seen her before, but knew she existed somewhere. As they laughed, and yelled, and watched the lights, the thunder of the dragon shattered the houses. Credence saw the dreams of the circus tricks, with fire and magic, stars blown up in the air. Among the sparkles, he was seeing the golden sunbeams.

He woke up like someone pushed him with force. He opened his eyes, forgetting what day it was. It was very warm, unusually. Instead of the normal wooden bars on his ceiling he saw various witch amulets swaying on the strings. Weird, he thought, dangerous. If the mother sees that, she shall punish him mercilessly. He put out his hand, covered in old scars, and tried to reach them, but couldn't. Credence sat up, stood on his knees and started tearing them down. Those were the weridest pranks he's ever witnessed; there was a smal glass vile filled with some lilac powder; and a little soft figurine of an owl; and a glistening bronze symbol he didn't recognize. There was a small dream catcher, bright green and blue. He was in the middle of untying them all when he noticed that something was off about the room. It was spacious and light. He sat back in bed, confused, put his hands to his head to cancel out all sounds and think, and discovered his hair had grown much longer over the night. No, something was wrong.

He jumped from the bed and spun around in this unfamiliar room. It was nice; wooden table was propped against the window, and his bed was small but soft, with white sheets. He walked towards the mirror and didn't recognize himself at first. He looked ten years older than what he was supposed to be. The crack on his wrist wasn't itchy as it usually was, and he dug into the little cut with his fingernail. He cleared his throat because his mouth was so dry. Hearing his own voice, it suddenly stung him, like a recollecting spell. He was Aurelius. And he was ten years older. And he wasn't in New York anymore, but in Hogsmeade. He examined his face in the mirror. Apparently, he was also alive. So alive that he even looked healthier. His skin didn't feel cold, the black circles around his eyes went away. He moved without any ache, feeling the longing strength in his limbs. He smelt himself and nearly retched. The sun was dancing in his room, yellow pollen from the flowering trees on the floor. He stomped his foot, making it fly up a little; his hip wasn't hurting, and the pain that always punished him for sharp movements, never came. He looked inside and asked, are you still there?

I am, the obscurial replied, its voice deep and sticky.

Then why am I not hurting anymore?

I'm not hurting anymore, it echoed.

He ran to the shower, desiring nothing more than to wash away all the feverish, strange dreams off himself. He found some clothes in the wardrobe; shirts of his size, some pants, a vest, a black cloak. He put his hair away from his face into a tail on the back of the head. So that he could see better. He put on the white shirt because it fit him the best, and went downstairs, where he found Aberfort.

At first, the man didn't move, but stared at him in dumb silence. Credence watched his face covered in lines form a grimace of amazement. He had a very old face, his father. He couldn't have been older than forty five years of age, but he looked sixty. His eyes faded with the constant darkness he dwelled in; they have lost its light from looking at that portrait of Ariana all the time. He was stooping, like Credence did, but the worst of all was his mouth. Almost upside down, always hidden behind his moustache, it was ever tightly shut. He didn't dare approach him even.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, his voice still not awake completely. He coughed to hear himself better.

"Forty-one days, Aurelius. Merlin's blessing, you have got out. You have made it".

The man cried silently, clutching onto his shy misery. He held onto the back of a chair, hiding his face in his other hand.

Credence walked up to him, put his hand on his father's shoulder.

"Thank you", Aberfort wailed, grabbing his hand like it was an evasive, unwilling ferret. "Thank you, Aurelius, thank you".

The first thing he did was going into the field. How simply good it was, just to live. To breathe without a second breath echoing inside his chest. To walk without every step stabbing his spine. He let the sun kiss him, lifting his face up. From this spot, Orlaith's house was seen. Or, rather, what was left of it after they'd gone. He fixed what he could, put the roof in place, and gathered the pieces of glass and clay crockery, but he didn't remember where was what. He couldn't find the shreds of furniture as they were probably so light - the feathers, the draping - that they had flown away, or had been picked up by birds for their nests. But he was quite pleased with his work. Doing magic was easy. It was less now like busts of his inner matter, and more like the magic itself. He had to focus to do it. And the wand obeyed him. The monster inside, a part of his soul, the little Credence dying in the cold with unwanted flyers in his hand, was slumbering in the safety of his ribcage as he finally allowed it. He saw his father watching him, always a house away. From the distance. As if he was about to drop dead all of a sudden. Maybe not now, not anymore.

"Um, dad", he asked, approaching. Aberfort flinched like he was hit on the face, "where is she?"

"She went away just yesterday. With Albus, they're looking for Grindelwald. She spent half of day, every day, with you. Albus had to drag her away from your bed".

"When are they coming back?"

"I think today. They aren't far. Go to the castle, maybe they've already returned".

He took a long stroll through the valley, paying attention to everything around him. The honeysuckle, and the bumblebees, the summer pollen in the air, and the black, awaiting mass of the forest, and, most of all, Hogwarts. The name she always said with a special tingle in her voice. He expected the grass and the flowers to whither when he stepped past them, but they did not pay attention. The world around finally accepted him. Credence still wasn't sure this was a promised future, but only clung on the strength, and feeling of having rested for a full life ahead. He felt timidly grateful, undeserving of this beauty, anxiety striking him. This was too good to be true. He could now cut off his old years with a sharp knife and never look back, things like that never happened to Credence. No, but maybe they happened to Aurelius?

The castle stood almost empty, and ghosts, who were not very numbered, prevailed in the halls. He walked quietly, feeling like he was intruding. Hogwarts was, unlike Nurmengard, light, and welcoming. The hallways were wide and made of white stone, and the portraits on the walls watched him with overt curiosity. The fountain in the hall through which he entered had statues of mermaids, who moved their heads and he walked by. There was a soft, barely audible hum to the castle, perhaps those were the walls snoring. He got lost in the unending corridors, the stairs, the unexpected turns. Finally, he noticed the sun started going down slowly. Credence froze in the middle of the corridor, unsure.

"Are you lost, young man?" a female voice asked him. He moved his eyes towards the sound with horror. She was flying on a broomstick, and she was absolutely naked. The witch smiled at him, eyeing him.

He quickly lowered his gaze.

"I- I'm looking for Albus Dumbledore", he said quietly.

"You're almost there. He's in the Defense class".

"I don't know where it is..." he confessed. The witch hummed and flew away. He stared at the empty frame for a second.

"Are you coming?"

"Excuse me, Bella, would you be kind and leave my painting?" another, unhappy voice called. Credence followed the sound.

"Peace, Formulonda", Bella replied, poison in her voice, "a little reminder of beauty won't hurt you. Follow me, pretty boy".

Credence swallowed, embarrassed for some reason. He walked faster, trying not to lose the sight of her as she jumped from one painting to another. Bella led him through the dim hallway, and then they were in a light one again; they took the stairs up and then entered a wide corridor.

"The big door on your right", Bella said, trying to catch his eye.

"Thank you", he mumbled, and hurried away from her. Now that he wasn't burdened with the feeling of life fleeting from him, he remembered how scary it was, to be seen. Oh, it was hot. It was too much for one day already.

He knocked on the door. There was no answer for a while, but then he heard Albus' voice.

"Yes?" curious, energetic. He didn't know what to expect, and so, as he opened the door, the light blinded him. He saw Orlaith, by the desk together with his uncle, and it finally got to him. This was all real. He really made it.

"Ha!" Albus yelled, clasping his hands together. His smile could break apart the stone. "Ha!" He couldn't say anything else.

Orlaith was at loss of words, but she moved instead. Her eyes, the way they looked at him, they were the most beautiful. Credence prepared himself for the collision as she jumped at him, with her arms open.

"Cre-he-he-dence", she cried. Her little body against his, he realized he had been stooping again, and instead, embraced her, straightening his back.

"I was just away for one day, one day", she was hollering. With the tears on her face, and her hair on her face, too, in the glimmer of her gold, she looked like the greatest thing he'd ever seen; maybe like the wooden spirit, or a mermaid from the hidden pools below the blue rocks.

"You look so healthy, Credence!" Albus noted joyfully.

"I guess I'm better", Credence replied.

"Better? You're absolutely, irretrievably, positively well. Do you feel any weakness at all, any pain?"

Credence shook his head no.

Orlaith let go of him, sniffing, wiping her tears away with a whole palm, like a child, and looked at him closely.

"That is just great", Albus admitted, "good job, good job Credence, and you, Orlaith. I had no doubt it would all work out".

She sneezed out of surprise, hiding her nose in her small palms.

"What do you mean!" she yelled, "no doubts? You told me to leave all hope!"

Albus shrugged and tilted his head guiltily, with such a sheepish smile that Orlaith was stupified.

"Oh, you..." she finally uttered, "you absolute calculating, secret-keeping, people-manipulating, warlock chief. Did you make me, did you make me believe he'd die so that I, what?" "Oh, I didn't try to make you suffer, dear. But I did hold a little hope all to myself, I admit. I was really hoping it would work", Dumbledore responded apologetically.

"What would work?" Credence asked. Orlaith's face was moving with some unreadable expressions.

Albus looked at her with some hidden spell untold.

"Well? Don't you know? I thought you'd get it, Orlaith, since you know me through and through".

"Uh..." she puffed, frustrated.

"Love. The ancient magic", he clarified. "Only love could cure an obscurial. And I think I'd told you before at some point, but you didn't seem to pay attention".

She blinked.

"Love", said Dumbledore, "is the most powerful tool of ancient magic. It heals the wounds that would otherwise take the wounded to the world of dead. It shields us from the treacherous dark spells. Love is what cures even death itself sometimes. An obscurial could only be saved with love, from one side, and from the other. Your greatest strength was never your rage, Orlaith, although you seemed to think that. It was love that made the earth help you, the love you felt for the creatures that made the forest defend you. And you", he turned to Credence, "my boy, once you stopped fighting it, and pitied it, the part of yourself that had been nurtured by the lack of love, found its way back to your core. You never fight an obscurial. You understand it. You accept the love that will tame it".

They stood, dumbfounded, in complete awe of Dumbledore's speech.

Orlaith wanted to throw her hands in the air and yell, of course! Of course you are so simply right all the time!

They looked at each other like two schoolchildren, a little bit awkward.

"It would have taken immense strength out of you, of course", Albus added, giving Credence a proud tap on the shoulder. "You, being of our blood, a Dumbledore. You know you will be known as the boy who lived through one of the most trying conditions one could ever, possibly, have".

Credence scratched his neck, wishing he could stare at the wall and digest everything. Suddenly he saw Orlaith's smile leave her lower lip and the teeth biting into it. She gave Dumbledore a look of complete revery.

"What did you say?"

"That he's strong".

"No, after. The boy..."

"...who lived", Albus helped. "Why?"

She gasped, and then gasped again, and her stare became glassy.

"Oh. Oh..."

She gave Credence a desperate, loving look.

"Oh..."

Neither of them understood what's gotten into her. Orlaith looked like she was about to combust into flames on the spot. Thinking proccess reflected onto her face.

"I'll be back", she snapped suddenly, in a very shrill voice. Credence started getting worried. He looked at his uncle after she ran out of the classroom.

Albus was less concerned, - maybe a little, just out of politeness.

"She'll be some time".

"Does that happen often?"

"Once in a while. Do you want some tea? Will you please tell me how you feel now?"

They walked towards the stairs, Credence, throwing confused looks at the door.

Not a single word passable for print crossed her mind as she ran through the castle. Oh no, that was too much. She almost fatigued herself to death by the time she reached the Divinations rope ladder. She was being incredibly lucky - or Matilda didn't have a place to live? because the Professor was still there in the middle of July.

She didn't greet her, but shoved her head into the room, startling the soothsayer almost to death.

"Professor!" she shouted like mad, "I screwed up! I screwed up so much!"

Matilda clutched the dress on her chest in fright.

"What happened?"

Orlaith was stammering.

"The- the- the boy, the vision, remember, when I came to you, the tree, the boy!"

"Yes, yes, I remember that, miss Peverell".

Now, hearing this name was sure horrifying to her.

"The boy you've seen in the crystal ball, don't prevent the tree from growing! The boy!"

"Yes, what about him?" Matilda yelled, "the lost, dark-haired boy, what about him?"

"What eyes did he have?"

She tried to recollect what she's seen. Ah, it was easy for the child had very distinct, bright eyes.

"Green", she replied, "emerald green".

She let go of the ladder and crashed down on the floor, hitting her head on the stone. As she lay there, Orlaith watched the blurry bright opening of the class. Oh, she thought.

Uh-oh.

#ezra miller imagine #credence barebone imagine #fantastic beasts imagine #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #credence barebone #aurelius dumbledore #albus dumbledore #harry potter imagine

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