#theseus scamander x you

[iwmflbb]

[nincompoopydoo]

hi i have a req for your vday celebration for this line 'have you no compassion for my poor nerves? ’ for theseus scamander!! going on a trip with newt looking for some new mythical creature to draw and you somehow get injured and theseus gets worried so like angst + fluff pls

IN SEARCH OF A GRECIAN BEAST

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Reader WORD COUNT: 1.1k SUMMARY: As you, Theseus, and Newt find yourselves on a secluded Grecian beach along the Aegean Sea, an endeavor unfolds to seek out a Hippocampus. However, plans don't turn out as expected. A/N: An angsty yet light-hearted fic in a way. Hope you guys love this lil Theseus one-shot~ WARNINGS: near drowning. angst. Newt literally has no compassion when he’s excited about his beasts lol. PROMPT: “Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?” [from this prompt list] MASTERLIST

“Pray, Theseus, allow yourself a respite! Quit moaning and come with us,” you whine with an exaggerated, sarcastic tone as you trudge down the rocky slope that leads to a stretch of golden sand. Newt is way ahead, feet already on the sand as he scuttles across the rugged coastline that looks upon the Aegean Sea.

Theseus huffs at your words, watching the way your linen top billows in the sea breeze, gleaming under the scorching summer sun. He decides he has no other choice than to follow begrudgingly. He stumbles on his feet, shells crunching at contact, and sees you looking back at him, eyes bright. The curve of your smile goes unnoticeable.

“I thought we were meant to be on holiday,” he calls out to you and his brother.

You merely laugh, and Newt responds without turning back, “Nobody mentioned a holiday, Theseus.”

Theseus scoffs, “Well, I presumed it was, considering you invited me to Greece. Of all places!”

Without warning, you abruptly halt, swiftly turning to face him.

“We find ourselves on this beautiful, secluded Grecian beach, and you're complaining?” You gesture to your surroundings in big movements, arms moving in sweeping motions.

You’re right, he’s being dramatic. Perhaps he finds himself a little sceptical towards your shenanigans with Newt. How you were always closer to his brother than him, even though he never dared admit it to himself that he wished it was the other way around.

Theseus is silent when you fix him with a stern gaze, nearing him. “All I’m saying is, you should loosen up a little.”

There it is. That glint in your stare. It’s hopeful.

Theseus realised long ago that he would do anything for you and be anything you wanted him to be.

“I am loose. I can be loose.”

Your laugh comes off more like a scoff. You don’t believe him one bit. “Right.”

Then, your fist connects with his arm. It’s playful, just like old times. Theseus winces, his palm instinctively rubbing his bicep as he shoots you a maddened look. Despite the irritation etched on his face, the subtle curve on his lips betrays it.

You laugh again. It’s light and sends his heart thrumming faster than ever. 

“Come on –”

"Look!" newt exclaims, his voice ringing out excitedly. “Over there.” He points toward the shore with the widest grin Theseus has ever seen.

You immediately grip Theseus’ wrist, pulling him along as you dash towards Newt.

“Hippocamps,” you breathe out, merely a whisper, eyes trained on the clear waters beyond.

Theseus turns to you and clocks on your wide-eyed gaze. Your mouth hangs slightly agape in utter awe as you take in the scene unravelling before you. Glints of deep blue swirl under the crystal waters, their scales glistening like scattered glitter under the Grecian sun.

Then, you release your hold on his hand. 

“I’m going in.”

The brothers snap their heads to you, “What?”

You turn to Theseus, “I know these creatures better than anyone. You know that.” Then, your gaze shifts to Newt, “Even more than you, Newt.”

A beat. He sees that you’re now looking at him expectantly as if you need his assurance. That he trusts you. He really doesn’t know why you need it.

“Just… be careful.”

You purse your lips and nod. “I will.”

The waves lap rhythmically as you approach the waters cautiously, gentling wading through and towards the Hippocampi. The water rises to your waist. You catch a hint of a tail under the sunlight, iridescent and reflecting the ocean's blue and green hues.

You take a deep breath – the key is to be calm. Extremely calm. You extend your palm, luminous kelp in your grasp, hoping to lure the creature.

Then, its head emerges from the waters, a horse for a head. The creature curiously eyes the kelp in your hand as you watch in controlled excitement as the others drift closer. You cannot help but smile.

Yet, something beneath you rumbles. It’s so slight that you almost miss it. But it sends a rippling uneasiness to your surroundings that it alarms the creatures. The air shifts, and before you know it, the Hippocampi sense an unseen threat and quickly disappear into the ocean.

Your smile drops.

You see it, a sleek form of green drifting in the depths beneath you. It glides through the water with stealth.

Ashore, Theseus senses your concern. “Something’s wrong.”

Then, he sees you turn to them with panicked eyes.

Abruptly, the water erupts with a powerful surge, and a beast rises from the depths and leaps into the air. Its mane of waterweed cascades with its movement.

It’s a Kelpie.

Newt and Theseus watch in stunned silence.

As the Kelpie vanishes beneath the waves, you’re gone.

Theseus’ heart drops.

Instinctively, Theseus calls your name, charging towards the place you stood moments before. In his sprint, he throws a quick, urgent glance over his shoulder at Newt, who scrambles closely behind, his expression etched with mirrored exasperation.

“Why in Godric’s name is a Kelpie doing here?!”

“That’s a good question –”

Theseus isn’t listening anymore. He can’t think right now, his heart pounding fiercely. Each step intensifies the knot in his stomach.

He finds himself slicing through the waves and propelled beneath the surface. His vision goes blur momentarily; elusive silhouettes move around him like drifting shadows. But as his eyes begin to take focus, he sees Newt, a feet away, seemingly going after the Kelpie.

Theseus whirls around, eyes scanning his surroundings.

He sees you, conscious. You’re looking at him with wide eyes, struggling to stay afloat.

Theseus closes in, and he reaches out, arms enveloping you. With a forceful pull, you are brought to the surface, head heavy against his chest. Your sharp gasp pierces the air, it resonates loudly, but it settles a sense of relief in Theseus.

As you’re pulled to shore, you’re induced into a coughing fit, water forcefully expelling from your lips. Theseus hovers above you, his hand on the back of your head, lifting it from the ground in an attempt to ease your choking. His other palm rests against your cheek firmly.

He says your name, his voice laced with reassurance, yet his gaze lingers with a perpetual panic as he hovers above you, the sunlight casting a halo through his tousled hair. Theseus looks truly distressed.

“Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?!” he exclaims, exasperated in all his dramatic and uptight glory.

“Just… trying to keep you on your… toes, that’s all,” you manage to croak out.

Theseus's laugh passes off as an exhale and grins, shaking his head. Quickly, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

You instantly feel your cheeks start to burn.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

You just smile. “No promises.”

Then, laughter echoes in the distance. Both of you turn to find Newt emerging from the shore, eyes bright.

"That was incredible!"

[saintsstranger]

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

[fortunapre]

new look, new stories & recs

𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 last updated: 11/30

Formula One

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[selencgraphy]

— 𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍

SUMMARY: five times you almost say i love you and the one time you do

PAIRING: callum turner x gn!american!reader

TAGS: FLUFF, inspired by “so american” by olivia rodrigo, established relationship, song references (some obvious, some less obvious), fluff!!

A/N: started this when i was in my callum turner era and had this song on repeat so here we are… it’s vaguely set in socal bc i was feeling a tad bit homesick at the time… anyways, i’m not going to be writing out the lyrics to olivia’s song but the scenarios are heavily inspired by them. knowing the lyrics is ofc not a requirement to read this, you can 100% go into this without that knowledge and enjoy some cute fluff! i hope yall enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

masterlist || request box <3

The first time you almost said “I love you” was when he took you on a date to the beach.

Your feet were up on the dashboard as he drove, head against the seat and hand lazily weaving through the breeze out the open window.  It was beautiful out—the sun blazing high in the sky with no clouds in sight and the temperature just right. When the starting beats to Cruel Summer roared through the car’s speakers, the brightest smile grew on your face. When the chorus hit, you turned to face Callum and sing, eyes widening when he starting singing along with you.

“You know this song?”

He chuckled. Gosh, his smile. “Of course, I know this song.”

As the bridge of the song played, you both shouted along. 

And I screamed for whatever it's worth "I love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Almost as if the universe timed it perfectly, the song came to an end as Callum parked. As you giggled in the aftermath, you couldn’t help but admire him for a moment. The way his eyes matched the sky. The way his curls fell on his head from the wind. The way his cheeks grew as red the larger he smiled. “S’rude to stare, sweetheart.”

“I-“ Before you could finish your sentence, you cut yourself off.

“What?” he asked.

“I can’t help it,” you played off. “You’re just so pretty.”

The second time you almost said it was while he was dying his hair in preparation for The Boys in the Boat.

“How’s it lookin’, love?” Callum asked as you rinsed the bleach out of his hair.

You leaned back to get a better look at him. “It looks very… yellow,” you giggle.

He quickly stands and goes to look in the mirror, a hand stretching his hair to see for himself. “Is it supposed to look like this?”

You grinned in amusement as he cringed at the color of his hair. “S’a good thing we got purple shampoo.” As he sat down on the edge of the tub, you rummaged in the plastic bag you had bought the hair supplies in. Replacing the gloves you had on, you stood in front of him and poured a little bit in your hands, carefully spreading it through his hair. Even as you focused on getting his hair done, you didn’t fail to notice the way he stared at you as you worked.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to stare, Cal?” His face flushed.

“S’not my fault you’re so pretty,” he whispered, his hands going to rest on your waist. Your chest clenched at his words, your own cheeks reddening. Looking down into his icy blue eyes, it almost slipped out of your mouth, but you caught yourself.

“Such a charmer, Mr. Turner.”

“Only for you, love.”

The third time you almost said it was when he took you to the Masters of the Air premiere in LA.

Thankfully enough, despite now having been together almost two years now, you’ve both successfully been able to have kept your relationship away from the public eye. Having seen the work he put into this project, you wanted to celebrate with him and suggested you walk with him on the carpet. 

He stepped out of the car first, buttoning his jacket before turning back and offering his hand to help you out of the car, a bright smile on his face. At the sight of just your hand, the flashes from the paparazzi cameras mere feet away flashed even quicker, and their roars got louder. “I got you, love,” he whispered, his hand never leaving you as you walked the carpet. 

Eventually, the both of you caught up to Austin and Barry, whose faces lit up at the sight of you. “Well, well, well,” Austin greeted, the southern drawl from his time playing Elvis peeking through. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he teased with a smile as if he hadn’t seen the pair of you a few days ago.

Barry ran over to Callum to give him a quick hug before turning to you with an even bigger smile. “S’lovely to see ya. Let’s take some pictures, aye? ”

You, Callum, Barry, and Austin stopped to pose together for a bit before they left the two of you to do some interviews further down the carpet. 

To your left!

This way, Callum!

To your right!

Give us a kiss!

He was quick to notice the fatigue growing on your face the longer you stayed in front of the sea of paparazzi. As you sat in your seats in the theater, he gave your hand a quick squeeze. When you glanced over to him, the look on his face made your heart swell. His blue eyes were soft and so filled with admiration. Just as you opened your mouth to say those three words, Barry barreled past you two into his seat next to Callum.

The fourth time you almost said it was on a random Tuesday in the weird period between spring and summer.

“It’s raining again,” you commented, both a little sad and happy with the weather. You and Callum had planned to go to the farmer’s market today but with the weather on top of the mood you had woken up in, it didn’t look like those plans were going through anymore.

Callum hummed as he turned on his side to look out the window. “Fucking June bloom,” you groaned, dropping your head back on your pillow. He turned back to face you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in closer. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you relaxed in his hold. 

“That kinda morning?” he gently asked to which you nodded. “I don’t mind a night in, love,” he whispered, placing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “As long as I’m with you.”

Your heart warmed at his words. “Thank you,” you mumbled against his chest. 

The fifth time you almost said it was on your birthday.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” he encouraged, his eyes soft as he watched you. You narrowed your eyes before doing as he said. As you carefully unraveled the cute purple bow he wrapped around the tiny box, Callum watched with bated breath.

Lifting the lid revealed a small locket in the shape of a heart and when you opened it, one side with both of your initials carved into the metal and the other a picture of the two of you. You remembered when this was taken. It was from when you took him to Disneyland for the first time. It was a bit blurry but that didn’t matter.

“Callum…” you whispered, tears slowly filling your eyes at the sentiment. You quickly surged forward to pull him into a hug. 

“Do ya like it?”

“I- I love it. I love it,” you smile, placing a kiss to his lips which he gladly reciprocated. You could feel him smile as he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Happy birthday, love.”

When you do finally say it, he had just finished doing an interview for Deadline magazine.

Callum did the interview on the phone and sat across the room, so you were within earshot of it all. “Your new film, Eternity, is said to explore who you’d want to spend an eternity with and where, so I have to ask: who and where might that be for you?” the interviewer asked. You tried your best not to eavesdrop, but the question intrigued you. What would his answer be?

The deepness of his voice brought you out of his thoughts as he answered. “If I had to spend an eternity with anyone, it would definitely be my partner. Where specifically is a little tough to say if I’m being completely honest. Anywhere they go, I’ll follow.”

Your heart melted. Did he really mean that? Soon enough the interview ended and you padded over to where he sat. “You’re such a sap, Cal.”

He smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss. “Eavesdropping now, are we?”

“Just a tiny bit,” you grinned. The way he looked at you sent your heart racing—a look filled with so much love. “I think I love you,” you blurted out. His eyes widened for a second before softening again.

“I think love you too,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. 

A/N: btw the deadline magazine refers to an actual interview he did but skewed to fit the purposes of this fic <3

[iridecsense]

nepenthe - m.

⊰ 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴                    𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦                       𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 ⊱

             ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

⤷ summary: Proceeding the encounter with Grindelwald in Paris, Newt goes seaward on a secret mission for Dumbledore when his ship is caught in a storm...

✧ word count: 11.1k ✧ pairing: newt scamander | siren!reader ✧ genre: romance, slow burn, angst, adventure ✧ warnings: depictions of violence and death ✧ author’s note:  Who updates after nearly five years? Me. I do. Anywayy, feel free to comment or send me feedback via my ask box, I love hearing from you all. Hopefully, it will encourage me to finish this series. That being said, I hope you enjoy!

             ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

Newt was no stranger to the sea. He had spent years aboard ships, exploring the world, and from it, he found the ocean more fascinating than anything else on Earth. It was a vast expansion of salty water that covered seventy percent of the Earth and was home to more than half of its creatures—most of which have yet to be discovered, a feat that both challenged and excited him. While most feared the ocean, he embraced it. He wished that Jacob felt the same. 

Jacob had a hard time adjusting to life at sea. While Newt kept his friend’s seasickness at bay, his preexisting fears still lingered. Jacob was no help when it came to sailing. He was far too clumsy and anxious to work under Uluras’s command. His talents lay elsewhere, elsewhere being the ship’s kitchen. Jacob spent most of his time down there, cooking and baking meals and treats for everyone. He wasn’t doing much cooking back in London, so Newt suspected it was therapeutic for him in more ways than one. Either way, he was glad to see Jacob active and committed. 

They sailed smoothly for three days. During those days, Uluras took a liking to Newt, effectively taking him under his wing. They often shared stories, Newt telling of his adventures around the world, and Uluras proudly spoke of tales from his mother country. There were times when Newt would get him to talk about Dumbledore and their misadventures when they were both young men. Even now, on what Uluras revealed to be their last night aboard the ship, they all sat on deck eating the supper Jacob and Niris prepared, sharing entertaining stories of how they spent their time in school. Newt stayed quiet for the most part, content with listening to Uluras’s tall tales and Niris’s troublemaking.

Under the night sky, the sea glittered and shined. It was calm; the water gently lapped at the sides of the ship, and, if you listened closely, you could hear the fin whales singing in the distance. It was a peaceful night, the most peaceful night they had while on board. Newt sat in comfortable silence as the others laughed heartily at a story Niris had concluded telling. They finished their meals and turned to drink, a sweet rice wine to fill their stomachs. Newt disliked the alcoholic drink, as he did all alcoholic drinks, but he still sipped the contents of his mug every so often to blend in. 

It wasn’t long before everyone grew tired. They had a long day ahead of them and would need all the sleep they could get. Niris was the first to retire to his nook. Jacob followed soon after, taking the mugs and plates back into the kitchen, claiming he would deal with them in the morning. Truthfully, Newt was rather exhausted himself. He could feel the weight of his tiredness pulling at his eyelids, but the ticking ambush of questions that relentlessly swelled in the back of his head kept him restless. Uluras had moved to the forecastle. His hand still clutched around a mug of wine as he stared up at the sky, sipping peacefully. Newt was unsure if he should disturb him. 

“Yuh just gonna stand there watchin’ mi, or yuh gonna speak what’s pan yuh mind?” Uluras spoke with his back still turned. 

Newt straightened his posture, flustered. He climbed up the steps and onto the deck to stand at Uluras’s side. The wind moaned lowly around them. Uluras kept his gaze forward, barely acknowledging Newt’s presence. Newt, feeling displaced, did the same. He looked at the night horizon, watching the bow of the ship cut through the waves with ease. “I was thinking about tomorrow,” Newt confessed after a brief silence. “I’m still unsure of what exactly I am to do when we reach Italy. It’s not as if Dumbledore gave me instructions.” Uluras huffed through his nose. “No need for instructions. What yuh need is a name,” he said. Newt furrowed his brows. “A name?” Uluras turned towards Newt. “In the mornin’, ‘round noon, we will dock in Naples. There yuh must find a woman named Reinette.”

“Reinette?” Newt repeated. “Who’s Reinette?” 

“She is a talented witch with the gift of seeing. Her gift has given her the advantage of knowin’ many things. When yuh get there, yuh must find her.”

“How do you suppose I do that?”

“It’s been a while, but I’m sure she hasn’t left. When I knew her well she worked in a pub. What was it called?” Uluras pursed his lips in thought, snapping his fingers as he muttered different names. “La Belladonna? No. It was Il Basalisc, I think... or maybe it was... It was somethin’ with a B.” Shaking his head, the older man sucked his teeth and sighed. “Just ask around for Reinette. I’m sure a local will be able to point yuh in the right direction. It's not like she keeps a low profile.” He rolled his eyes, turning around to walk back down the stairs.  Newt wasn’t sure he understood what Uluras meant by that, but he took the new information gladly. It was better than nothing. 

“You should rest, Scamander.” Newt turned on his heels to look down at Uluras on the deck. “This ting that Dumbledore’s got yuh wrapped up in...It all starts there. An’ yuh’ll be needing all the rest you can get.” Newt nodded in an unconfident manner. Uluras, having drunken himself into lethargy, disappeared into his quarters for the night, leaving Newt alone on deck. He didn’t get much sleep that night.

                                   ⁎ ⊹

                                 ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂

                                  ⊹ ＊

Newt lay on his cot inside his case, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought, when Jacob descended the ladder. He jumped from the ladder a few feet from the floor, landing with a thud, and turned to his friend. “Did you sleep in here?” Jacob asked. Newt shook his head. Jacob sighed, looking around the shack. His eyes caught sight of a strange creature similar to a hummingbird in the way its wings flapped incessantly, though it was double the size and had a long beak that curled into itself. It stared back at him through the window above Newt’s cot and flew away quickly after. 

“I didn’t know you brought all your animals with you.”

Newt sat up in his bed. “I didn’t. Well, not all of them. Just the ones that needed my attention. Bunty’s caring for the rest back home,” said Newt. Jacob nodded, dropping the subject. “Uluras told me to come get ya. Yeah, he says that we’ll be docking soon.” Newt's eyes widened. “Is it noon already?”

“Fifteen minutes after,” Jacob told him. “Sorry I didn't come to get you sooner, but I was late waking up myself. That wine can really put you out.” He chuckled as he rubbed his aching belly. Newt stood to his feet and walked to his work station. He pulled a small black box from a drawer and opened it. Inside was an assortment of small potion bottles. Some were filled with liquid, others with herbs, and one with something that moved. Jacob scrunched his nose in disgust. 

Newt picked up a couple of bottles, carefully reading the labels before finding the one he was searching for. He held it in his hand as he placed the lid back onto the box and stuffed it back into the drawer. He walked back to Jacob and held out the bottle filled with an herb that looked like plant roots. “Chew on these. They’ll help your stomach settle.” Jacob took the bottle kindly and without question. “Thanks.”

Newt flashed him a small smile before brushing past to climb up the ladder. Stepping from his case, Newt helped his friend by taking his hand and pulling him out. The two men quickly packed their things, ensuring everything was in order before ascending to the deck. 

The sun hung high in the air. The call of seagulls accompanied the musicality of wind rippling the sails and waves crashing into the ship. The pesky birds circled the masts in hopes of finding food, or perhaps they just wanted someplace to rest their wings. Either way, their presence was welcomed, for it meant that land was near. 

Newt and Jacob made their way to the ship’s railing. They looked ahead to see the evidence: the costal city of Naples flaunting its beautiful landscape. Jacob smiled, openly expressing his excitement. Wether he was excited to venture to a new land or because he was finally getting off the boat was unclear. Maybe it was a bit of both. When the ship finally docked, Jacob was the first to step off after giving goodbyes to Niris and Uluras. 

The dock was lively with passersby. It was a trading dock meant for the import of magical goods. It was tucked away and hidden by enchantments to mask its presence on the shoreline of an abandoned beach. On the harbor, sellers peddled their goods, high in stock of all the magical goods not native to Italy.

Uluras and Niris stood at the opening to the gangway. Newt, with his head bowed, reached in his coat pocket for the pouch Dumbledore had given him, handing it to the old man. Uluras saw the gold flashing in the pouch and placed his hand over it, pushing it back into Newt’s chest. “Keep your money, Mr. Scamander,” he said. “You’ll be needing it where you’re headed.” Newt nodded. He thanked Uluras and Niris for their kindness and guidance. The young wizard descended down the gangway, joining his friend's side as he assessed his foreign surroundings.  Jacob placed a hand on Newt’s shoulder. “You know what you’re doing?” Newt’s eyes flew up to Uluras, who gave him an encouraging nod. “In a way.”

Jacob turned to look back up at the ship that was already sailing back out to sea. He waved goodbye to the two men onboard. Niris waved his cap down at them and wished them luck on their journey. “Don’t forget to thank Zanj Lanmè!” Uluras yelled. 

The two men waved to the angel carved onto the ship, yelling their thanks. To Newt's amusement and Jacob’s amazement, the wooden angel animated, giving them a soft smile as it waved back. His mouth fell agape as he watched the ship leave. Newt turned from the sea and pushed on, leaving behind a stunned Jacob. “Did you see that?” He asked as he rushed to catch up. 

The harbor reminded Newt of Diagon Alley, though it was considerably smaller. Besides the docks and the street peddlers, there were shops, inns, and a lone pub. Alas, it was not the pub he hoped. Its name did not start with a B, nor did it have a B in it at all. Hanging above the entrance was a metal plaque that read L'amante in bronze lettering underneath an etching of a couple kissing passionately. 

“Want to grab a drink?” Jacob asked upon noticing Newt's gaze set upon the building. 

Newt had no interest in going inside. He wanted to find Reinette as soon as possible. He remembered Uluras’s advice from the night before to ask around. This elusive seer had evidently made a name for herself; at least, that is the impression Uluras gave him. Left on foreign terrain, with no other options, he decided that it was the best place to start. The two men veered to the pub, pushing through the salt-damaged doors. 

Upon entering, they were met with lively music and thunderous cheer. Much like Newt’s case, the pub was bigger on the inside, with many open levels that gave the appearance of a tower. Despite its overawing stature, the room was filled with warmth. It was a pleasant contrast to the cold greyscale of London. The first level of the pub was colored in hues of red, orange, and yellow. Gold glimmered in unexpected and opulent places. The dark, wooded floors vibrated in reaction to the crowd of people dancing close to the stage where a live band played swing music. Scattered around the room were tables and booths, many of which were filled. Along the right side of the establishment was a bar that stretched from either side of the room. Jacob noticed it instantly and headed straight in its direction.

He took a seat on a circular stool. He blew raspberries with his lips and drummed his hands on the, frankly, sticky wood surface as he waited for a bartender. He even peeked over the counter just in case this pub was manned by a house-elf like the speakeasy Tina and Queenie had once taken them to. Newt took a seat next to him, placing his case on the floor by his feet. Not long after, a woman came up to them behind the counter. She had thick, curly brown hair braided down her back and dark olive skin. She wore an orange dress complemented by a gold apron. She grabbed a wet rag from a nook behind the counter and began swabbing the counter. 

“Che cosa vuoi?” She asked, though she was not looking at them. The two men stared blankly, unable to understand. In their silence, she gave in and looked straight at them, suddenly irritated by their presence. “What do you want?” She asked again, this time in English. “Water, please,” Newt answered for the both of them, though Jacob seemed a bit displeased by it.

She immediately grabbed two clear glasses, filling them up with ice as a pitcher of water floated in the air to fill them. She handed them their respective glasses. “So you’re Englishmen?” 

“He’s English. I’m American,” said Jacob. “Though my mom’s mom was Italian.” He said as a matter-of-fact and smiled awkwardly in an attempt to make small conversation. The barmaid, however, couldn’t care less. “Welcome to Napoli,” She said dryly. “What brings you here? It must be important for you to come with the travel ban and all.” The two shifted uncomfortably in their seats, like two children who had just been caught in a lie. “Do not worry,” she assured them. “I will not tell. It is not my business to share.”

Jacob relaxed a little and took a sip of his cold water. Newt was still tensed. “Well,” he began, hesitant. “We are looking for someone. I was told she works in a pub like this one. Perhaps you know her?” The woman shrugged. “Maybe I do. Do you have a name?”

“Reinette.”

She shook her head. “Dispiace. I do not recognize the name.” She said simply, and turned away to help another customer. Newt stopped her before she got too far, still hoping she could help in some way. “You don’t suppose you know anyone who might? She is a seer—”

“A seer you say?” She cut in. Newt nodded. The barmaid looked beyond the two men to a waitress waiting tables on the floor. “Azura!” She called to her. The waitress lifted her head towards the direction of the bar. The bartender waved her over. “Vieni qui per favore.”  The waitress finished serving a couple seated at a table before walking over towards the three of them and standing next to Newt, a bit closer than he’d like. “Che?”

“These men are looking for a seer. You once knew a seer, no? What was her name?” The woman pursed her lips in thought. “Intendi, Reinette?”

“That’s her!” Jacob chimed in. “She said Reinette, right? You said Reinette?”

The waitress, Azura, frowned. “What do you want with Reinette?”

“We were hoping she could tell us that,” said Newt.

She sighed. “If it is a vision you want, she won’t give it to you. She hasn’t seen anyone in years.”

“Still,” Newt insisted. “We must find her. It’s important. Please.”

“Look, whoever sent you led you in the wrong direction. Reinette left for Sicily years ago. That is all I know.”

“Sicily? As in the island? As in an island a hundred miles away from here in the middle of the Mediterranean ocean?” Jacob rubbed the sides of his temple. “That’s just great.” He held his glass up to the barmaid. “I’m gonna need something a little stronger, sweetheart.” She rolled her eyes and reluctantly took his glass.

“Where in Sicily may we ask?” Newt pressed. The waitress thought to herself for a moment.

“Syracuse, I think. I can’t be sure.”

Newt nodded. “Thank you.”

“Prego.” As she left, Jacob downed his newly acquired drink. Newt stood from his seat and shifted around his coat pocket for change and placed it on the counter. Jacob put down his glass. “What, we’re leaving now?” 

“Yes,” said Newt as he lifted his case from the ground and maneuvered his way out of the tavern with Jacob stumbling close behind. “Right now!”

                                     ⁎ ⊹

                                   ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂

                                    ⊹ ＊

After the pub, Newt took Jacob from the port into the city. According to Newt, they would have to find another boat that sailed to Sicily. Uluras and the Zanj Lanmè were long gone. They were on their own. 

Italy seemed much livelier than Paris or London in Jacob’s opinion. At least in Naples, the people weren’t afraid of a bit of fun. Jacob followed behind Newt in a distracted stupor, occasionally brushing shoulders with other pedestrians and whirling his head every which-way to take in the sights. He tried his best to keep up with Newt’s long strides but was halted by a young street vendor pushing delicious-smelling pastries in his face.  

“Try, you must try! Best pastries in Napoli!” The young teen pedaled. 

Jacob scrunched his nose. “What is it?”

The curly-haired boy gave Jacob an over-friendly smile and spoke excitedly.  “Panzerotti. It’s meat, cheese, an—”

“Yeah, give me that.” Jacob pulled out two coins and traded them with the boy. He took the pastry and continued down the street as the boy thanked him. The young boy looked down at the two American coins. 

“EHI! Non puoi pagare con questo! Figlio di puttana, mi servono gli lire!” 

Jacob ignored the boy's fast-spilling curses and took a pleasing bite out of his treat. He spotted Newt’s distinctive coat in a small crowd surrounding a man pedaling boat tickets. “Oh, Jacob, there you are. What’s that?”

“Panzerotti,” Jacob said with a mouth full of food. He held the wrapped pastry up to Newt. “Wanna bite?”

Newt looked down at the cheesy, meat-filled delight. “No, I don’t think so.” He turned his head towards the man selling tickets, and Jacob shrugged his shoulders.

“Poi ho i biglietti per la Sicilia, tremila lire ciascuno! Tremila lire a testa per la Sicilia!” 

“That’s Sicily. Yes! Yes, here!” Newt pushed through the crowd to the front with Jacob.

“How many?” Asked the ticket pedlar.

Newt held up two fingers. “Two.”

The man held out his hand. “Six thousand lire.”

Newt tensed. Right. Muggle money. Jacob noticed Newt's hesitation. “What, you ain’t got six thousand lire?” 

The peddler ignored Newt’s struggle and yelled over his head, selling more tickets. Newt fished in his coat pocket and found the pouch Dumbledore had given him. It felt lighter than it was originally. He took it out and opened it, smiling when he saw the contents inside. Conveniently, he pulled from it the aforementioned amount and currency. The man looked down and took the bills, counting them for good measure before trading the two tickets. “It leaves tonight at seven, the red steamship.”

Newt nodded and quickly thanked the man before diving back into the crowd. Jacob followed, taking a last bite of his panzerotti, crumpling the wrapping, and tossing it to the side. “So what, we just gonna stand around for seven hours?” Jacob asked Newt as he swallowed. Newt shrugged. He looked around in search of a place to set up and regroup. 

Jacob sighed. “Well, we should get room or something. I’d like to sleep on a bed that doesn’t rock before I get on another ship.”

Newt and Jacob walked side by side on the street in search of an inn. As they walked, a swell of music increasingly crept closer. Not far ahead, a crowd of people dressed in various shades of blue, green, and white gathered in a large square. It was a jovial communion, as celebrants were dancing, drinking, eating, and performing various other festival-like activities. Newt found himself smiling at the children who scampered by holding hand kites, his eyes catching sight of the rag doll tucked tightly under a little girl’s shoulder—a mermaid. Jacob smiled, too. Looking around, they noticed lots of mermaid iconography decorating the square.

They strolled about the square, hoping to immerse themselves in the festivities they unknowingly integrated themselves in. A small crowd gathered off to the side, mostly children, but some adults stood towards the back and sides. The two foreign beholders kept to the background onlooking a puppet theatre. The children sat entranced on the ground as they watched the puppets. It seemed to a be a fairy tale, some version of the little mermaid. The colorful puppets depicted a prince of sorts on a beach meeting with a mermaid. The children seemed to enjoy it, especially the young girls. 

Jacob turned and saw another group gathering on the opposite end of the square. There was a large circular fountain that enclosed a statue of a mermaid perched on a rock facing the sea. People amassed around and threw various things inside it, mainly coins, but also beads, flowers, and jewelry; essentially any small, pretty thing. Newt followed Jacob's eyeline to the overcrowded fountain. Jacob gently stopped a man as he walked by. “Excuse me? You speak English?” Thankfully, the man nodded. “What are they doing over there?

“They are giving offerings for la principessa sirena,” he explained enthusiastically.

“The mermaid princess.” Newt translates for Jacob.

Jacob speered at Newt from the side. “Yeah, I got that,” he said flatly. 

The man smiled. “Sì, signore. Over a hundred years ago, the king of Naples, Joachim Murat, was drunkenly wandering the cliffs when he stumbled and fell into the sea. He nearly drowned but was saved by a mermaid. The king fell in love and continued to visit la sirena for years after. Soon, they produced a child: la principessa sirena.”

Jacob pursed his lips and blew a low whistle. “Lucky guy.”

The guide laughs and shakes his head. “I would not say he is so lucky,” he says. “Eventually, his queen, Napoleon Bonaparte’s little sister, discovered his adultery, and in a jealous rage, she sent for her brother to avenge her, ordering the king’s lover and child to be killed. By the time the king got wind of the assassination, it was too late. His sirena had been murdered on the very shore he had fallen for her.”

“What happened to the kid?” asked Jacob.

“It is said she was lost to the sea,” he shrugs. “However, many years later, long after the king had died, a fisherman was caught in a storm, and he was swallowed by the waves. The storm was so powerful he should have drowned. When he woke up, he was on the shore, unharmed. He returned to his village and told the townspeople he was saved by a beautiful mermaid. He believed her to be the lost princess, King Joachim’s love child. He built the sculpture in honor of her, and every year on the day he was saved, the people of Naples, Ischia, Procida, and Capri will come here with offerings for love and prosperity.”

Jacob scoffed and nudged Newt with his elbow. “Maybe we should make an offering, huh, Newt?” He jokes. Newt flushed slightly; the fleeting image of Tina swept across his mind and tugged at his heartstrings. Jacob thanked the man, and he walked away. The two men walked towards the fountain.

“What did you think of that?” Asked Jacob.

“Of what?”

“Do you think it’s true?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “What the guy said about the mermaids and what not.”

Newt hummed disapprovingly. “Probably not.”

Jacob furrowed his brows, skeptical. “How come?” 

“Well, there are no merpeople in the Gulf of Naples, let alone the Tyrrhenian Sea.”

“So there are mermaids,” Jacob smiled excitedly.

“Yes, there are many different species of merpeople throughout the world. There are even merpeople that exist in the Great Lakes.”

Jacob’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” said Newt. 

“Well, why aren't there any here in Naples? Isn’t the Mediterranean, like, the home of mermaids?” Jacob asked as he eyed the supposed mermaid princess. 

“Yes. Naples was once called Partenope, after a siren of Greek mythology. But sirens haven't existed in the Mediterranean for hundreds of years.” New explained.

“What happened to them?”

“It is speculated that they were hunted to extinction.”

“Oh.” Jacob’s shoulders fell slightly. They stood in silence for a moment until Jacob dived into his pocket for two simple coins. He spit on them, much to Newt’s surprise and minor disgust, and shined them with the corner of his vest. He handed one to Newt, who hesitantly took it between his fingers. Jacob closed his eyes for a moment, a wrinkle forming between his brows as the silence between them lingered, then kissed the coin before tossing it into the fountain bowl. 

“I was never a superstitious person. I ain’t never believed in…a higher power or anything before.” Jacob spoke carefully, and Newt could tell that this was something he needed to stay silent for and listen. “My Gran was. Church every Sunday and Wednesday, pray before every meal, before walking out the door, in the morning, and before bed at night. She’d cross her chest if she saw a black cat cross the street, toss salt over her shoulders, hated anything having to do with the number thirteen, and picked up every lucky penny she could find. I thought she was nuts, but y’know, that’s my Gran.”

“Then me and my brother got shipped off to France, and my Grandma snuck rosaries, prayer coins, and a rabbit’s foot— if you can believe it—into our bags. Told us to carry them on us always. Anyway, you think about stuff like that during the war. One day, my brother and I was stuck in a church in France with our group, waiting for reinforcements. We was laying low. We knew they was out there. They knew we was in there. It feels like you’re waiting forever when you’re like that. I was standing by a window that had been poorly boarded up when the light leaking from it cast on the floor. A dirty old franc was sitting heads up on the floor, and it got me thinking of my Gran. ‘She’d pick that up,’ I thought, and it made me smile for the first time in months. So, I bent down and picked it up.” Jacob sighed and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Just as my fingers pick up the coin, a bullet flies right over my head and hits my brother in the chest.”

“Jacob… I’m so sorry.” Newt attempts to comfort his lamenting friend. 

“Yeah, I know.” Jacob puts a thankful hand on Newt’s shoulder. He cleared his throat to keep his voice from cracking. “I lost my brother…But picking up that franc got me home. Got me one last year with my Gran before she passed. Made me chase my dream of opening a bakery. Then I met you, my best friend. I learned about a whole new magical world I couldn’t even dream of. And I met the most beautiful, crazy, talented witch who also happens to be the love of my life. Now she’s gone. I don’t know what we’re doing here. I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is I need all the luck I can get to get my girl back. So, sometimes I throw a coin in a fountain and hope that something—God, Fate,” he chuckled and lazily gestured to the statue. “Or a mermaid princess—anything—will listen.”

Newt squeezes Jacob’s shoulder. “She will, Jacob.” 

Jacob forced a smile. He gestured to the coin still in Newt’s hand. “You should too. For Tina.”

Tina. Newt’s nervous system went haywire at the very mention of her name. There was a moment when he and Tina finally connected on a deep level, when their hearts perhaps started to beat at the same rhythm after being off-key for so long. But it seems every time they take a step forward, something happens to push them back, whether it’s a misunderstanding, her work as an auror, the estrangement of a sister, or the loss of an old friend…an old love. 

All Newt wanted was to feel right. Nothing felt right, not in his personal life or the world. Maybe if he finally felt a semblance of understanding and peace, he wouldn't be chasing such frivolous ventures to distract from his perpetual offness. ‘Something right,’ he thought, and he tossed the coin into the fountain. Jacob clapped him on the back, solid and reassuring, pulling him from his thoughts, and the two stepped back onto the cobblestone street in search of a place to rest. 

                                     ⁎ ⊹

                                   ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂

                                    ⊹ ＊

“Jacob, wake up.”

Jacob jolts awake as Newt gently shakes his shoulder. It was sunset, and the sky had turned into shades of orange and purple. 

“The ship leaves in an hour. We should head there now.” Newt says as he buttons his vest.

Jacob gives a lethargic nod and groan as he sits up in the bed. They’d found a muggle pub that had beds available upstairs. Newt had commented on it being similar to a wizard pub called The Leaky Cauldron in London. The moment Jacob laid on the bed, sleep took over, and his snores filled the room. Newt wasn’t tired, surprisingly, and stayed awake. He minded his case, giving Jacob and himself deserved silence. Newt had managed to do a considerable amount of work in the gap of time. He was worried about the niffler pups. Wily creatures as they were, prone to sickness were they also. The mother had passed after birth, leaving Teddy too depressed to nurture the litter on his own, the poor sod. Newt and Bunty did their best to nurse them with mooncalf milk, but it isn’t filled with the same antibodies the pups would need to build their immune systems fast. One of the pups had caught a nasty infection that Newt had been treating. Anyone else wouldn’t notice by how adamant she was at chasing around after her littermates. Newt made use of his time to treat and care for her and any other creatures he brought with him. Yet, by the time he’d finished, he wished he had at least tried to rest like Jacob suggested.

“Did you get any sleep?” Jacob asked groggily, noticing the dark circles around Newt’s eyes. 

“I’ll sleep on the ship tonight,” Newt assured, though he convinced no one. Sleep hadn’t been his nightly companion for a while, and it was starting to show. Jacob only hummed in response as he put his jacket over his shoulders. The two walked to the port where the red steamship was boarding passengers to Sicily. Getting there and getting on took about an hour, but once on the ship, they found their cabin and waited for the ship to push off. 

Jacob sat on the bed across from Newt. “So this Dumbledore guy is sending you to Sicily to get a palm reading or something?” Jacob asked after a small moment of silence. “A seer can do a lot more than palm reading, Jacob.” Newt chided. “A seer can prophecy the future. Predict fates. Deliver omens.”

“Like we need any more omens,” Jacob muttered bitterly. 

Newt sighed through his nose. “I don’t know why we’re going to Sicily, Jacob,” he admitted. “I don’t know the seer we’re supposed to find, and I don’t know what she will tell us once we get there…if she’s there… Truth is, I don’t know much of anything anymore, Jacob. I haven’t since—”

“I know,” Jacob said softly. 

“But I couldn’t just sit around feeling sorry for myself anymore. Not while Theseus and Tina are off Merlin knows where…not after Leta...” Newt picked at the skin of his fingernails. It’d become a habit of his, and now his fingers were rough and jagged from frayed hang nails, picked raw and often bleeding. Jacob’s sorrowful expression only made Newt feel more microscopic. How frustrating. “Whatever this is about, I’m sure we’ll know soon. Dumbledore loves being cryptic, but it’s not without reason.” He ended simply. 

Jacob nodded, eyeing his friend closely. He opened his mouth to say something, but a second thought closed his mouth for him. “No matter what, I trust you, Newt,” he said instead. “This Grindelwald…He’s got to be stopped. I’m with you.”

Newt looked up from his hands to see Jacob bearing a comforting smile across his face, one he couldn’t help but return. Just then, they heard the ship’s horn blare. The ship jolted forward, and Jacob rocked back into his bed. He screwed his eyes shut and held on to the metal bars of the bed frame. “Oh, God. Newt, you got anymore of that seasickness potion stuff?” Newt let out a humorous chuff and nodded. He placed his suitcase on the floor between them, opened it, and stepped inside to retrieve the potion for Jacob. 

                                     ⁎ ⊹

                                   ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂

                                    ⊹ ＊

Newt sat on the grass of the kelpie enclosure, watching as the magnificent creature swam about freely. A few of the niffler pups were sleeping soundly in his lap. He stroked their fur absentmindedly while deep in thought. He thought mostly about how he’d get to Syracuse. The ship most likely wouldn’t take them directly there and would instead stop on the opposite side of the island. The travel ban made things rather difficult in times like this. It was mildly hilarious that the Ministry lifted his travel ban after his assist in Paris, only for the International Confederation to implement one on the entire wizarding world.

Of course, he understood why. It would ultimately help single out Grindelwald and his acolytes, as they were sure to not stay put in one area for long. Any unauthorized travel would immediately be flagged by aurors to investigate. But Dumbledore, often not in alignment with the wishes of those in power, had his agendas and operations to conduct that would not be executed by the Ministry even if he asked. So, naturally, everything Newt was doing was unsanctioned and, therefore, illegal. Drawing any attention to himself will endanger the mission. There is no doubt the Ministry already knows he’s no longer in England. ‘Theseus definitely knows by now,’ he thought. 

Whenever Theseus got drunk, he’d come by the flat, overly affectionate and smelling of fire whiskey. Newt would make him something to eat while Theseus talked about things he didn’t care about until he finally divulged the latest inner workings of the Ministry and the investigation with Grindelwald. Then he’d get sad about Leta and cry, eventually passing out on his couch. He was happy to be there for his brother the first few times he stumbled up his stoop, but after a while, it just got embarrassingly sad, and it didn’t help with his own melancholy.  Theseus probably tried to visit not long after he and Jacob had already left. Bunty most likely answered the door and gave him the latest update without divulging his whereabouts. Theseus would be upset to be sure, but his loyalty and trust in Dumbledore will keep him and the Ministry out of it until need be. Best not give them a reason to, though.

They could easily track him down if he used certain magic transportation such as apparition; he was, unfortunately, a wizard of interest, thusly under persistent watch. However, he couldn’t apparate to Syracuse even if he wanted to, as he’d never been before. Besides, even if he had, he’d never apparated such a significant distance, and with Jacob in tow, so much could go wrong. He’d hate to be the reason Jacob got splinched or worse. The best way would be through the floo network. It’s hard to track individuals through it. Finding it would be the hardest part. He wasn’t familiar with the network outside of Britain, but if he could find a wizard town, he could find the floo network. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. Jacob hadn’t used the floo network before. It’d be fun to watch him try it for the first time. 

Rising to his feet, he carefully collected the sleeping niffler pups in his hand and walked them to their den. Teddy was there, lazing about in his hole as he often did since his mate passed. He placed the pups in their respective holes and gave Teddy a soft pet on his back. He knew all too well how he felt. 

He walked back to the shed to sit on his cot. His eyes were heavy from their lack of rest, prominent bags hung underneath his brilliant hazel orbs. He laid on his back, fluffing and tucking the pillow under his head. He stared at the ceiling for a while, still unable to settle his brain. If his mind settled for even a moment, granting him momentary peace, some thought or image would shock his nervous system awake. He tossed and turned, eventually landing on his side facing his workbench. His eyes drifted up to the pictures framed on its surface. One picture was of Tina, a picture she had sent him almost a year ago. She looked brilliant. She had her hair parted to the side and curled. She smiled sweetly, her image swayed awkwardly from side to side, giggling at her own shyness. It’d been a while since he’d sent a letter to her, not that he expected an answer anymore. Partially his fault, he knew. He wasn’t the most engaging pen pal, not lately. 

But beyond his faults, he knew her focus was on the rescue of her sister. He wanted to write. Merlin, did he want to tell her so much, but every time he tried to put quill to paper, he was left with ink blots. His eyes drifted to the picture hanging above Tina’s on the wall. Leta. Newt’s heart ached at her image. Every time he looked at it, he was transported back to the night she died. The tears in her eyes, the scared look on her delicate face, the last words she spoke…

A sudden jolt shook Newt from his thoughts. Dust fell from the ceiling, and the light fixture above him swayed. Newt furrowed his brows. A loud, heavy, crashing sound came from outside the case, and Newt sat up in his cot. An earthquake-like rumble shook the case, sending the beasts inside into a frenzy. Newt’s head whipped around to the workbench as vials, books, and tools started crashing onto the ground. He jumped from his cot to catch Tina’s picture before it fell, only to hear the sound of shattering glass as Leta’s picture slipped from the wall. Newt didn’t have time to bend down to retrieve the photo before the hatch of his case swung open. 

“NEWT!” Jacob sounded frantic and terrified. “NEWT, WE GOT A PROBLEM. GET UP HERE!”

Newt quickly dressed and tucked Tina’s picture frame into his coat pocket. He climbed up the ladder with haste and took Jacob's outstretched hand once he reached the top. Jacob pulled him out of the case and held him by his sleeves. The ship was rocking dangerously. Outside their cabin, an attendant was yelling for passengers to stay calm. A clap of thunder sounded after a near blinding flash of lightning filled the cabin. Rain poured and smacked heavily against the ship's metal, creating a consistent drumming. The ship was smack in the middle of a raging storm, and while the muggle crew tried to keep things calm and orderly, assuring the passengers that everything would be fine, Jacob and Newt knew better because they both could tell it was no ordinary storm. Newt looked out the porthole to see rough seas and black skies. Another flash of lightning and Newt could see the swirling pattern of a magic-made storm in the rolling clouds. 

“I was resting, and the storm came out of nowhere,” said Jacob. “One minute calm seas, the next I’m hearin’ buckets of rain and thunder—the ship rocked so hard I fell out of the bed!”

Newt quickly packed up his case and opened the cabin door, jumping back when an attendant rushed by him in a panic. The young man looked over his shoulder at Newt. “Please, remain in your cabin! Everything is fine!” He ordered, though he was less than convincing. He didn't check to ensure Newt went back inside before running off and disappearing around the corner. Wand in hand, Newt started in the opposite direction, towards the front of the ship. Jacob followed close behind, nearly tripping up the steps attempting to follow Newt’s gazelle-like strides. 

The two men could barely keep their eyes open once on deck. The wind howled like a banshee in their ears. Their clothes were drenched within seconds, and the barren deck floors were practically flooded with water. “WHAT IS THIS NEWT?” Jacob yelled over the sound of puffing wind and rain. Newt looked around, searching as best he could through squinted eyes for the source of the storm. “IT’S GRINDELWALD!” Newt shouted. “SOMETHING MUST’VE HAPPENED. HE KNOWS WE’RE HERE, HE’S SENT THEM TO STOP US!”

“WHO?”

One by one, members of The Alliance apparated onto the deck, surrounding them. 

“Them…” said Newt darkly.

“A bit far from home, no, Mr. Scamander?” One of the acolytes taunted. Newt recognized him from Paris.

“Give us the case, and we’ll be on our way!” A dark witch laughed.

Newt clutched his case tightly and hid it behind his legs, protectively raising his wand. His case? Why on Earth would they want his case? “The relic is all we want. Give it to us, and we’ll leave you and your muggle pet alone.” Jacob glared at the wizard who bestowed the offensive moniker. Newt furrowed his brows but kept his mouth shut. 

“HEY!”

Several heads turn to look at one of the crewmen perched behind the bannister of the second level. He peered down at them and flailed his arms about. “CHE DIAVOLO STAI FACENDO? GET BACK INSIDE!”

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” 

A green beam shot from one of the acolyte’s wand and struck the crewman in the chest. His body fell limp instantly, robbed of life. His limp form fell over the railing and onto the lower deck floor with a horrendous thud. His limbs sprawled out like a rag doll. Jacob yelled in horror as he stared at the corpse only a few feet away from him. Newt retaliated, casting a disarming spell and sending the dark wizard’s wand flying. Probably not the best idea. 

A flurry of light from cast spells bombarded Newt, who protected himself and Jacob with a shield. As Newt blocked dark spells, a wizard apparated between him and Jacob, taking a bold dive for his case. Newt evaded them and took a page out of Jacob’s defensive tactics; he swung the heavy leather case high enough to strike it across their face. The pilferer fell to the floor hard with a splash. Newt took Jacob’s hand and pulled him along as he ran back towards the cabins. Jacob ducked down as Newt expertly blocked every spell that came their way. Seven against one, and Newt was holding his own well enough to keep them both alive. A witch with stringy brown hair cackled and pointed her wand high. The sky above them roared with thunder, and a bolt of lightning shot down to her wand. She redirected the lighting and struck the ground with it in Newt’s path. The lighting missed him by an inch, singeing the ends of his curls. The impact sent him flying to the ground and had him lose his grip on both Jacob and the case, dispersing them both away from him. 

Jacob slid backward into a bench. The case slid a few feet away, halfway between himself and the brown-haired witch. Seeing an opportunity, the witch cast a summoning spell, pulling the case towards her. Newt acted quickly, his instincts acting faster than his brain could catch up. With a flick of his wand, he cast a spell that seized control of the toiling ship. 

“JACOB, HOLD ON!” He warned his defenseless friend. Jacob heeded his words and found the leg of the bench bolted to the floor. He closed his eyes and hooked his arm around it tightly, muttering a silent prayer. 

The ship was already treading rocky seas due to the storm, but with Newt’s spell, the waves reached new heights. A large wave formed at his command and pushed the ship sideways, causing it to tilt steeply. One by one, the black-clad wizards lost their balance, falling hard and sliding across the slick floor beneath them. The witch lost her footing and focus, crashing to the ground and hitting her jaw hard on the ground as she slipped forward, unable to brace herself properly. As Newt's body slid backwards, the case started sliding at speed down to the ship's railing. He angled his body in a way to slide towards his case. 

He outstretched his hand and braced himself. “ACCIO!” He summoned the case swiftly into his hand.

Using his wand, he held it like a stake and used a spell to fix it to the floor. It fused to the wood floor, and his tight grip around it kept him from sliding further as the ship continued to tilt. A few of the wizards slid by him, struggling to keep themselves from slipping. One had used a spell to fuse their feet to the floorboards and tried holding their comrade's hand to keep them from falling. But their hands were too slick from the rain, and eventually, they let go of each other’s grip, sending the unfortunate one sliding down to the ship’s railing. He scrambled for something to get a hold of, but ultimately failed, and Newt watched as he flew by him and off the side of the ship into the raging water. 

Newt looked around until his eyes fell on Jacob, who had managed to stay on board. As the ship started to tilt back into its centered position, Newt began crawling towards him. Some stray spells were cast at him as he army crawled, but each one missed, scorching the floor around him. When he reached Jacob, he grabbed the fabric of his coat in instantly apparated them back into the halls of the ship. Their bodies fell onto the floor of the hall in a wet heap. 

Inside was pandemonium. Below deck, the passengers and crewmen of the ship were running around like chickens without heads. People rushed and pushed past Newt and Jacob, completely unaware of their sudden appearance in the hall. They yelled and screamed, rushing in and out of cabins with cases and life vests. The crewmen were attempting to urge them back inside, but the passengers were adamant on securing life vests and escaping up to lifeboats in a panic. Newt helped Jacob up to his feet and held his arm while dragging him through the bustling halls. 

A familiar swishing sound came from behind them, and they whirled their heads to see one of the acolytes apparate into the hall. Jacob spilled a curse from his mouth as the acolyte spotted them through the chaos. “Go, go, go, GO!” He rushed, pushing Newt forward and following quickly behind. 

They rounded the corner, pushing past scrambling persons and searching for a way out. The ship rocked dangerously, and the lights flickered in regular intervals. Behind them, the acolyte stalked them, evading and pushing anyone who got in his way. Eventually, another joined him, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. “Where’re we going, Newt?” Jacob asked, his voice wavering in fear.

Newt didn’t answer, his focus solely on his surroundings as he searched for some quick exit. Ahead at the end of the hall, he caught sight of a door to their right, a staff door to be sure, that led to the boilers. Picking up the pace, Newt headed for the boiler. Behind them, the frustrated acolytes got bombarded by a frantic passenger. He came up to one of them and tried to pull them back towards the front of the ship, yelling in Italian. The poor man was cast with the killing curse, his body falling limp on top of the acolyte. Jacob watched in horror as he kept behind Newt. The acolyte threw the man's heavy body to the ground and started in a jog after them. “Newt!” Jacob warned, and Newt looked back to see their trackers rushing for them. 

The two men started in a sprint down the hall. An offensive spell hit above their head, setting off sprinkles inside the hall. Newt pointed his wand in no particular direction over his shoulder, pushing one of the acolytes back several feet. He pressed down on Jacob’s shoulder, helping him duck under another spell that set the light fixture aflame. Catching an idea, Newt cast a spell to break the lights in the hall. One by one, the lights sparked and burst, darkening the hall until it was completely black. They used the cover of the dark to rush behind the staff door, and Newt cast a spell to keep it locked. The steel door protected them from the offensive cast propelled at it, and after a few rattling bangs, the spells stopped. Jacob breathed out a sigh of relief and clutched his beating chest. 

“Newt,” Jacob called between heavy breaths.

“Yes?” Newt answered through his own labored inhales.

“Don’t ever invite me on vacation again.”

Newt let out an airy chuckle and nodded. He rested his head against the cool steel door and stood still to catch his breath. Jacob took in their dark surroundings, loosening his wet collar that stuck to his damp skin. It was warmer in this hall of the ship than the rest. 

“So what now?” Jacob asked helplessly. 

Newt swallowed and opened his eyes. There was a ladder that descended down deeper into the ship. He jutted his head in its direction for Jacob to see. “Down.”

He and Jacob walked to the ladder and descended several feet. Their feet planted on a metal walkway. Newt leads, following the signs that lead to the boiler room. Newt knew they couldn’t hide in the ship forever, not with six acolytes after them. He just needed time to think of a way out of this. Should he keep fighting? No. He’d be putting the people on the ship in even more danger. The muggles shouldn’t have to suffer anymore because of him. The heat of the boiler room increased the deeper they went. When they reached the furnaces, the water on their skin evaporated and was replaced with sweat. Newt clenched his jaw. Somehow, Grindelwald and his acolytes knew where he was. He needed to figure out how to get him and Jacob safely off the ship in a way they couldn't track him. 

Apparition was out of the question. He was too far from anything familiar, and he barely knew the surroundings and locations of Naples to apparate back without risking splinching. Newt squeezed the handle of his suitcase. He could only think of one way out, and it was mad. Jacob wasn’t going to like it. Not one bit.

They needed to get to the deck again. If they could hide in the chaos, the acolytes wouldn’t be able to find them, and they could escape unnoticed. By the time they realize they have escaped, it would be too late. The back of the ship would be best. There’d be fewer muggles as most of them would be arguing amongst themselves on the main deck where the greater portion of the lifeboats resided. Newt followed the signs that read ‘aft’.

Just over half a hundred men were yelling and rushing in the boiler room; they hardly noticed Newt and Jacob as they pushed through. One worker grabbed Newt by the arm and started yelling at him in Italian whilst pointing back towards the front of the ship, no doubt urging them to get out of their way and back to the passengers’ cabins. Newt apologized, ignoring his instructions and freeing himself from his grip to continue toward the back of the ship. He could see the exit up when a dark, cloaked figure emerged from behind one of the furnaces. Newt stopped in his tracks and held out an arm to block Jacob. Flanking them on either side were two others similarly uniformed assailants. More of the boiler room workers noticed and surrounded them at this point. They were all yelling at them to leave, frustrated and cursing in both English and Italian, only to be ignored.

Newt’s eyes trailed down at the wand in the acolyte's hand ahead of him. He stood still, waiting to see who would make the first move, keeping the others in his periphery, ready to catch and retaliate against any sudden movement. It was the witch to his left that moved first. She cast a spell at him, but he dove for the ground just in time, pulling Jacob down with him. The cast flew over their heads and hit the wizard on their right, sending him flying into a wall of scorching pipes. He let out a blood-curdling scream. The workers, terrified, fled the area, climbing up stairs and ladders to the upper decks.

“Expelliarmus!” Newt sent the witch’s wand flying into one of the open furnaces. A raging fire exploded in the furnace, and Newt used his arms to protect his face from the heat of the flames. The flames flashed various colors as the magical item sparked and burned to ash.

“NO!” Screamed the powerless witch. She furiously started for Newt, sprinting with her arms outstretched to grab him. He leapt to his feet and pointed his wand to a nearby mound of coal. He quickly cast a charm to send them flying in her direction. She attempted to evade them but stopped in her tracks as hundreds of coal rocks pelted her at high speed. She shrieked and covered her face as she stumbled backward, eventually turning on her heels to run off and hide away. 

“NEWT!” Jacob yelled.

Suddenly, a feeling like a graphorn charging and bunting him in the stomach sent him flying back. He slid back a ways on the floor, and his mouth opened to expel a silent scream. The air had been completely knocked from his lungs, and he rolled over on his side in pain. He had a firm enough grip on his case to keep it by his side. Jacob ran towards Newt, but he only made it a few paces before he felt something pulling him back. The acolyte used a spell to summon Jacob to him. 

Jacob shouted to Newt for help, doing his best to fight against this spell, but it was like being pulled back by an automobile heading in the opposite direction. His feet slipped from under him, and his body dragged along the floor towards the pale-skinned dark wizard.

Newt gulped for breath and used all his strength to grab his case and get back on his feet. Once he managed to stand somewhat upright, he faced the acolyte, who now had Jacob in his grip, wand to throat. 

“Give me the case,” he instructed. “Or your filthy muggle pet dies.”

“Newt,” Jacob’s wavering voice called out. “I know you love your creatures and all, but maybe this one time you could do what the crazy guy says, please?”

“Shut up!” The acolyte seethed. He eye’d Newt dangerously. “The case, now!”

Newt lifted his hands up in surrender. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly hunched over due to the pain in his back and side. He eyed Jacob, who struggled against the acolyte’s hold. Jacob met Newt’s eyes, and he could read by the look of them that he had a plan, which did not ease his nerves. Newt gave Jacob a barely noticeable nod and darted his eyes to the left. Jacob sighed and closed his, thinking a silent prayer.

Using his foot, Newt pushes his case across the room towards the acolyte. Jacob, with all his strength, broke free from his grasp and dove to the right behind a furnace. The acolyte, satisfied, bent down to open the case. Once the lid reared back, he looked into the cavernous hole in bewildered shock. Not a moment later, a flurry of yellow, orange, and red burst from inside the case. An avian creature, similar to that of a phoenix, let out a unique screech as it circled the area. It was a large creature with a beautiful, flaming wingspan and glowing plumage. A firebird. The acolyte stepped back, and Newt pursed his lips to blow a melodic whistle. The firebird responded, mimicking the notes with his song, and dove for the acolyte. He retaliated, sending a series of attacks at the creature. The firebird, however, was swift and agile, dodging each spell. Newt then used his wand to cast a restraining spell on the acolyte, stiffening his arms at his sides. The firebird began swirling around the struggling dark wizard, and a funnel of flames emitted from its wings, encasing him. He screamed in horror, unable to escape his fiery death as the firebird quickly incinerated him in its golden flames. 

Jacob watched, awestruck, feeling the intense heat of the tornado-like flames. A bright flare of light had both him and Newt shielding their eyes, and then—nothing. The acolyte’s screams stopped, and the heat died down. They uncovered their eyes to see the firebird descend upon a pile of ash that was once a person. The creature innocently cawed in Newt’s direction as it nestled in the ashes. 

Newt rushed to his case and the bird. “Good boy,” he cooed as he stroked under the firebird’s beak with his finger. “Back in you go.”

The firebird obediently flapped its wings and flew into the air, circling a few times before barrel-diving into the case. Newt closed the case and locked it, taking it by the handle and rushing to Jacob.

“Jacob, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” He asked as he helped him to his feet.

Jacob, dazed, looked past Newt and down to the pile of ash on the floor. “You’re a little scary, you know that?”

Newt chuckled humorlessly. “Come on, let’s go.”

The two men headed towards the boiler room exit. The inside of the ship was practically barren. A few muggles littered the halls or kept themselves locked in their cabins, but the majority had escaped to the deck. They managed to get to the back of the ship undetected, once again opening a steel door to step into the storm. They trudged to ships the railing and gripped it tight to keep steady. Newt looked over the railing down to the black abyss below. He could hear the angry seawaters lapping at the sides of the ship, and for a second, he hesitated executing his mad plan. Jacob, concerned by the expression on Newt’s face and the fact that he was looking so intently at the water below, spoke up. “Newt? What are you planning?” He asked, afraid to hear the answer that might confirm his fears. 

Newt turned to Jacob, a sorry look in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Jacob furrowed his brows. “Well, now I’m not so sure!”

Ignoring Jacob’s doubt, Newt stepped several paces back, set his case down, and opened it. From it, he summoned the kelpie. The great creature leapt from the bag and onto the deck, taking its favorite form of a horse. Jacob shook his head disapprovingly. “Oh, no. Newt, no!”

“Jacob, this is the only way we get out of this,” Newt implored. “The kelpie is extremely fast and adaptable; it will carry us away safely.”

The kelpie chuffed and stomped a hoof on the floor. Reluctantly and with mutters of protest, Jacob cautiously made his way to the kelpie and, with Newt’s help, managed to climb on its back. Newt went back to close the case and returned to hand it to Jacob. As Jacob took the case, his eyes drifted behind Newt and grew wide. 

“NEWT, LOOK OUT!”

Newt managed to step out of the way as a stray spell hit the kelpie on its backside. It reared on its hind legs and squealed, starting at full speed toward the ship's railing.

“JACOB, HOLD ON!” Newt called out. Jacob wrapped his arms around the kelpies vines. He screamed Newt’s name as the beast jumped over the railing like a hurdle and down towards the sea. Turning around, Newt met the enclosing wall of the remaining acolytes. They wasted no time attacking him with spells. Newt, ever the defensive, blocked and dodged most of them, occasionally redirecting spells back at them. He successfully pushed one overboard after redirecting their spell, and another he managed to use a freezing charm to encase another acolyte’s legs inside solid blocks of ice stuck to the floorboards. Desperate, a witch called down a strike of lightning and dragged it across the deck, letting it scorch through the entirety of the ship and setting it aflame. The act caused the ship to rumble and make a terrifying sound. 

The act left them all unstable, and they each fell to the ground. The floor beneath them cracked and split, opening like an egg. Newt pushed himself up by the elbows and watched as the ship tore apart. “No…”

Screams could be heard from the other side of the ship. The muggles cried in horror as the ship lit up in flames and broke beneath them. Several lifeboats had since been deployed, but there was still a significant number left onboard, struggling to get off. The acolytes disapparated one by one, seemingly finished with him. Newt was so distraught by the damage and sounds of people fearing for their lives, he didn’t notice the floor slowly giving away under him. He jumped back into his skin when the jolt of the floor breaking down beneath him made him slide towards the splitting cavern. Flipping onto his stomach, Newt army crawled in the opposite direction. He managed to make it to the side of the ship’s railing when a cable snapped from its rig and writhed about, ultimately hitting Newt in his back. The force of the heavy cable sent Newt hurtling into the sea. 

His body went into shock from the searing pain. He didn’t have the mind or time to brace his body for impact with the thrashing sea below. It was another breathtaking blow when his body hit the water. He took a sharp inhale on impact, filling his lungs with water. Newt choked and struggled for breath while his body descended deep into the sea. He desperately searched for his wand, which had slipped from his grip during the fall. A flash of lightning from above revealed the wand floating down several meters away. With desperate strength, Newt swam as fast as he could to his wand, but the burning of his lungs made it increasingly difficult. He made it only a few feet before he started to lose consciousness. His body went limp. His limbs sprawled about, and his eyes struggled to stay open. The salty water stung his eyes, and the lack of oxygen turned them bloodshot red. 

He felt something slip from his chest. From it floated his picture of Tina. Trying his best, he reached for the picture, hoping to grab it, but his attempts failed. So he watched helplessly as her photo drifted to the bottom of the sea, disappearing into the abyss. Newt closed his eyes, and he quickly realized he was dying. Not the way he’d imagined it would happen. He never presumed to live a long life, not with his life’s purpose being a magizoologist studying many dangerous magical beasts. He thought, perhaps, he would die at the hands of a nundu or a chimera. But drowning in a sea? How uninteresting. 

He was prepared, too tired to fight off death, and welcomed it to take him, when suddenly he felt something swimming around him. It was a large something. Perhaps it was Jacob with his kelpie. But if that were the case, it would not be circling him as much as it was. No. The pattern felt like something was…surveying him. Opening his eyes, Newt was met with nothingness, only the vast and empty sea below. He could feel it, though. Something was watching him. He knew the feeling all too well, the sense of being hunted. 

He struggled to keep his consciousness, wanting a glimpse. Perhaps it was nothing but a simple shark, gaging his weakness and preparing to strike. What did it matter? He thought. He prepared for the strike, or for his consciousness to finally give way, but it never came. Newt gave away his last moments of sentience to peace and let the water comfort him. 

Suddenly, there was no pain, and just when he had welcomed the will to let go, he felt a pair of arms hook underneath his shoulders. He could feel himself being pulled up from the water. A chest, a human chest pressed against his back and powerful strokes propelled their bodies through the sea. Scales. White, iridescent scales on the end of a large fishtail swishing fervently between his legs was the last thing he saw before his vision faded to black.

              ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

                                   ❦ 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺                      

             ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

[viharbinger]

Harry Potter Masterlist

[last updated 8/1/2025] Other Masterlists

Fred Weasley

Fred with a muggle!reader

Fred with a Slytherin!reader

Marriage and Fred

Hermione Granger

Hermione with a Slytherin!reader

a/n: My favourite character is Fred if you can't tell. I'm also taking fantastic beasts requests 👀 newt and theseus requests please!!

[milliondollarwomen]

Fateful Meetings

Thomas Webb x Reader

Word Count 2.6k

Hello! This is something I wrote up the other night cause I feel there isn't a whole lot about Callum Turner. This is just an intro and if you guys like it I will write more! Enjoy.

A knot of anxiety tightened in the pit of your stomach as the soft morning light poured through your apartment's transparent drapes and spread across the space. You had decided to meet up with your ex-boyfriend today, and while you were excited about the possibility, you were also worried.The nerves were unshakeable. And if things went wrong? What if you felt exposed and raw because old wounds reopened? You felt a mixture of excitement and fear at the prospect of confronting your history. You grabbed the bag tremblingly and made your way toward the door, each step felt more difficult than the last. You took a deep breath and ventured out onto Manhattan's busy streets, ready to take on whatever the day might bring. Even with all of your anxiety, there was a glimmer of optimism that perhaps, just possibly, this encounter would provide the closure you had been longing for.

You rounded the corner, lost in thought, only to crash into someone coming from the opposite direction. Your bag and other items fell to the ground, and you let out a startled gasp, your heart racing as you struggled to regain your balance. "I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, crouching down to gather your fallen belongings, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. A stranger knelt beside you, offering a friendly smile as he helped collect the scattered books. "No worries, happens to the best of us," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. As you reached for a stray book, your fingers brushed against his, sending a strange jolt of electricity through you. You looked up, meeting the stranger's gaze, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. "Thomas," he introduced himself, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "Nice to meet you, Thomas," you replied, returning the smile, though your heart still raced from the unexpected encounter.You packed up your things and headed to the coffee shop nearby, memories of the unexpected encounter with Thomas still circling around in your thoughts. The smell of freshly ground beans wafted through the door, a soothing reminder of the familiar scent that still danced in your stomach. Your ex was already there, seated at a corner table, their gaze fixated on their phone as they waited for you. As you approached, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you—nostalgia mingled with apprehension, memories of both laughter and heartache flooding your mind. With a forced smile, you greeted them, sliding into the seat opposite theirs. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, a silent tension that hung heavy in the space between you.

"Hey, it's been a while," you greet him as you meet up, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yeah, it has. Thanks for meeting up," he responds casually. The conversation continues, the usual pleasantries exchanged, but there's an underlying tension you can't shake. Finally, unable to hold it back any longer, you ask him, "Why did you even bring me here? If all you wanted was to check in, why did you make it seem like there was something more?" His expression falters, caught off guard by your question. "I... I didn't mean to mislead you. I genuinely just wanted to make sure you were okay," he stammers, apologetic. You shake your head, unable to hide the hurt in your voice. "It's just... it's hard, you know? To see you and not feel like there's still something between us. And then to find out that there isn't... it hurts." He's at a loss for words, realizing the impact of his actions. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize... I'll leave you alone. Goodbye," he murmurs, before walking away, leaving you feeling more confused and hurt than ever. As you gather your things, a heaviness settles in your chest, and you wonder if closure will ever come, knowing you need to find the strength to move on from what could have been. As you stepped out onto the bustling city streets, the weight of the conversation with your ex still heavy on your mind, your phone buzzed in your pocket, interrupting the tumultuous thoughts swirling within you. With a sigh, you pulled it out to see your best friend's name flashing on the screen. "Hey," you answered, trying to sound more composed than you felt. "Hey, are you free tonight?" your friend's voice came through the line, laced with excitement. You hesitated, the events of the day leaving you feeling drained and emotionally spent. The last thing you wanted was to put on a brave face and pretend like everything was okay. But then again, maybe a night out with your best friend was exactly what you needed—a chance to escape the weight of your thoughts and lose yourself in the simple pleasures of the present moment."Yeah, I think I could use a distraction," you admitted reluctantly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips."Great! I'll swing by your place in a couple of hours. Get ready for a night to remember!" your friend exclaimed. With a newfound sense of anticipation, you hung up the phone and headed back to your apartment, the promise of a night out with your best friend offering a glimmer of light in the darkness. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would be the reset button you needed—a chance to leave the worries of the past behind and embrace the joy of the present.

You found yourself standing in front of the mirror, struggling with a whirlwind of contradictory feelings as the evening approached and the possibility of spending the night out with your best friend grew closer. You were feeling uneasy about the day's events and your head was still spinning from the encounter with your ex. A nagging thought of your brief interaction with Thomas earlier in the day crept into the corners of your mind as you started getting ready, carefully applying makeup and choosing the perfect dress. His name stirred feelings you'd tried to push under the surface of the evening's distractions, resonating in your mind like a whisper on the wind. However, you soon dismissed the concept, telling yourself there was little to no chance of ever seeing him again. Considering the size of New York City, the likelihood of a coincidental meeting on the streets was minimal at most. You gave a resolute shake of your head to drive away any thoughts of Thomas and bring your attention back to the task at hand. It was a night to let go of the past and embrace the present, with your best friend by your side. As your best friend's taxi pulled up outside your apartment building, you felt a surge of excitement mingled with apprehension. Rushing out to meet her, you greeted her with a warm smile, the events of the day momentarily pushed to the back of your mind as you embraced the promise of the night ahead. "Hey, thanks for picking me up," you said, sliding into the back seat of the taxi beside her."No problem at all! Ready for a fun night out?" she replied, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Definitely," you answered, the corners of your lips turning up into a grin. "It's been a long day, but I'm ready to let loose." As the taxi merged into the flow of traffic, the two of you engaged in light-hearted small talk, discussing everything from work gossip to weekend plans. The hum of the city buzzed around you, a comforting backdrop to the easy camaraderie you shared with your friend. Before you knew it, the taxi pulled up outside a cozy-looking jazz bar, its neon sign casting a warm glow against the evening sky. The sound of live music spilled out onto the sidewalk, beckoning you inside with promises of soulful melodies and lively atmosphere. "Here we are!" your friend exclaimed, excitement evident in her voice as she paid the fare and stepped out onto the sidewalk.You followed suit, a sense of anticipation building in the pit of your stomach as you made your way towards the entrance of the bar.

As you and your best friend settled onto the barstools, the soft glow of the jazz bar enveloping you, you couldn't help but feel grateful for her comforting presence. Ordering a round of cocktails, you took a moment to savor the lively atmosphere and the anticipation of the night ahead."So, spill the tea," your best friend exclaimed, leaning in with a mischievous grin. "How did the conversation with your ex go?" You took a deep breath, knowing that your best friend was never one to mince words. "It was... okay, I guess," you replied, swirling the ice in your glass. "He just wanted to check in and make sure there were no hard feelings." Your friend's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Seriously? That's it?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with incredulity. "After everything he put you through, that's all he has to say?" You shrugged, feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Yeah, pretty much. But I guess it's for the best," you replied, trying to keep your tone light. Your best friend shook her head, her expression one of fierce determination. "You deserve so much better than that," she declared, her voice ringing with conviction. "You deserve someone who sees your worth and treats you like the queen you are." You couldn't help but smile at her words, feeling a warmth spread through you at the unwavering support of your best friend. Raising your glasses in a silent toast, you clinked them together with a sense of solidarity. "To better days and finding someone who truly deserves you," your friend proclaimed, her eyes sparkling with determination. "To better days," you echoed. As you clinked glasses with your best friend, the vibrant energy of the jazz bar pulsed around you, filling the air with a sense of anticipation and excitement. With a shared grin, your friend grabbed your hand and led you towards the small area where people were swaying to the rhythm of the live band. But as you followed her, your gaze inadvertently drifted towards the entrance, and there, amidst the dimly lit crowd, you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It was him—Thomas, the man you had bumped into earlier on the street. And to your surprise, he was looking right back at you. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as your eyes met, the connection crackling with an unspoken electricity that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was intense, unwavering, as if drawn to you by some unseen force. As the realization of the moment sunk in, a jolt of nervous energy coursed through you, your heart pounding in your chest. What were the odds of running into him again, especially in a city as vast as New York? But before you could gather your thoughts, your best friend tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the dance floor with an excited grin. "Come on, let's dance!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the brief exchange you had just shared. With a fleeting glance back at Thomas, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the music and the infectious energy of the crowd.

As the music swirled around you, you and your best friend danced with abandon, the infectious energy of the jazz band filling the air with an undeniable sense of joy. But as she twirled off to chat with a handsome stranger she'd just met, you found yourself drifting towards the bar, craving the solace of a quiet moment amidst the lively chaos of the club. As you leaned against the polished wood, waiting for the bartender to notice you, a gentle tap on your shoulder caused you to turn around. And there he stood—Thomas, the man whose gaze had lingered in your mind since your chance encounter earlier in the day. "Hey," he said, his voice soft yet filled with an unmistakable intensity. "Hi," you replied, your heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and curiosity. "Crazy meeting you here." "Yeah, what are the odds?" he chuckled, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine.As the two of you fell into an easy conversation, the noise of the bar faded into the background, leaving only the sound of your voices and the steady beat of your heart. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in this moment, suspended in time.

"So, how was your day?" Thomas asked, his gaze soft yet filled with an underlying intensity. You hesitated for a moment, surprised by the genuine interest in his eyes. "It was... eventful, to say the least," you replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I ran into my ex earlier, and let's just say it was more awkward than I anticipated." Thomas nodded, a sympathetic expression crossing his features. "I know the feeling," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "My day wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows either. I found out that my dad is cheating on my mom, and I... I confronted the other woman." Your heart went out to him, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. "I'm so sorry," you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. "That sounds incredibly difficult." Thomas offered you a grateful smile, his eyes meeting yours with a sense of vulnerability that took your breath away. "Thanks," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a rough day, but talking to you somehow makes it feel a little bit better." You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a sense of connection blossoming between you like a fragile flower in the darkness. It was strange, this inexplicable bond that had formed between two strangers in the span of a single conversation, but somehow it felt right. Eventually Thomas had ordered you a drink and once you both finished your drinks, he glanced towards the corner of the jazz club, where a vintage photo booth stood, invitingly lit. With a charming smile, he suggested, "Hey, want to check out that photo booth?" Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you nodded eagerly, saying, "I’m always up for a good photoshoot." You both made your way over to the booth, anticipation building with each step. As you stepped inside the cozy space, the curtain closed behind you, cocooning you two in privacy. “Okay what should we do first?” He asks “There's no fun in planning it, I'll just hit start and we will figure it out” you say Laughing, you two tried out different poses, capturing candid moments of joy and connection. The camera flashed, freezing your smiles and laughter in timeless snapshots. As the last photo was about to be taken, Thomas locked eyes with you, a flicker of something intense passing between us. Without breaking the gaze, he slowly lowered his gaze to your lips, a silent question lingering in the air. And in that moment, as if drawn by an irresistible force, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. Time seemed to stand still as you guys shared a tender, electric kiss in the dimly lit confines of the photo booth, the world outside fading away into insignificance.

[grindeldoresdaughter]

Before I forget to make this message I just want to say thank you to all of you. I want to thank you for the warm welcome & opens arms I have received in this community already.

I didn’t think I find Grindeldore & Fantastic Beasts fans on here but the fact that I did made me so happy you have no idea. And the fact that you guys not only welcomed me with opens arms but are actually already making me apart of the community made me so emotional. Like today has been such an incredibly joyful & emotional day that has completely changed me forever.

I choose to make a fan account for Grindeldore and Fantastic Beasts because I remember reading about Albus & Gellert in Harry Potter & being so intrigued by them and loving them so much. Dumbledore was my favorite character in Harry Potter next to Harry, Ron, & Hermione and I don’t know what took me so long to watch Fantastic Beasts but i’m so thankful I did it. I watched it because I wanted to see their story and it did not disappoint. I also wanted to watch Fantastic Beasts because I am basically the female version of Newt Scamander in real life. Not by looks and I am not autistic (although I have a family member that is) but by his beautiful spirt and his love for animals. As much as I like to think I am a female version of Albus Dumbledore or even Tina. I am Newt and he is me lol.

I feel in love with the movies and characters and my favorite ship so much and this wonderful community made me love all of it even more.

So from the bottom of my heart thank you. You guys are officially apart of my heart. Grindeldore & Fantastic Beasts is officially apart of my heart and we will never drift apart. You guys are officially stuck with me forever even you don’t like lol.

So excited to continue to be here. So excited to get this blog going and what’s to come and the things I will do and the friends I will make being on here. The adventure is just getting started and it’s gonna be the best adventure ever.

Love,

Jessica aka Grindeldore’s daughter 🤍🖤

[amethystandemma]

Happy Char Day!

@rypnami, I am so lucky to have gotten to know you in these last few months (yes, months. It seems as if I have known you for much longer) and I am so glad that we have this friendship that has blossomed. I'm so lucky to know you.

Happy birthday my friend.

And now, my gift to you (something we have discussed for A WHILE).

Theiara and the Unexpected Visitors

Word Count: 1458

Very few people took to the Scottish highlands in the middle of winter. While it was still gorgeous, as the scenery always was, it was also absolutely freezing. And with how badly it was snowing, you couldn’t even really see the terrain.

And yet, there were two people out despite the cold weather.

Theseus Scamander took Chiara Wilson’s face into his hands, cupping her between his palms. Her hands found their way to his, placing them on top of his as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you,” Theseus whispered. 

The words were ones he had said a million times before, and ones he would say a million times again. Every single time, he meant it. He loved her more than anything.

He lowered the yellow and black scarf she was wearing, his scarf, and kissed her.

Theseus’s lips were chapped and the cold was biting at her exposed skin, but Chiara didn’t care. In her opinion, there was no better feeling in the world than the one of his lips against hers.

Their lips slowly moved together in synchronized harmony, filling them both with a warmth only the other could bring. As a couple, they had their fair share of hardships; and they were sure to have more, but none of that mattered as long as the other was there.

They would always find their way back to one another, no matter what; because they were two halves, two pieces of the same puzzle. They belonged to no one else, only to the other. 

Even with the chill of the air around them and flakes of snow, the kiss was utterly perfect. There was absolutely nothing, nothing, that could ruin the moment between them.

And then two teenagers fell out of the sky.

Theseus and Chiara abruptly drew apart, looking at the two people who had suddenly appeared.

One of the figures was a boy with short cropped brown hair, swearing up a storm in a language Theseus assumed was Scottish Gelic. He assumed this because he had heard Chiara say some of the… colorful words he was now spouting out. But there was something else about him that seemed familiar.

He had landed on top of the other teen, a girl with long dark red hair and more freckles than stars in the sky. Theseus couldn’t see much of her, as she was covered by the teenage boy, but he did see a golden hourglass clenched in her right fist.

Both of them wore scarlet robes that resembled the Quidditch uniforms at Hogwarts, only slightly different than the ones he wore. 

“Lass?” they heard the boy mutter. “Where —”

“Under you, Ace.” the teenage girl mumbled. 

“Shite!”

He scrambled to his feet, sending a flurry of snow around them as he moved. As he helped the girl to his feet, Theseus heard Chiara chuckle next to him.

“Reminds me of someone I know.” she whispered to him.

Theseus felt his face flush. “Shut up.”

It wasn’t until they were both on their feet that the teens noticed they weren’t alone. Without any movement from either Theseus or Chiara, both of the Quidditch players had drawn their wands and pointed it at them. Theseus subconsciously moved himself in front of Chiara, shielding her body with his own.

He put up his hands, looking between the two of them.

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” he said quietly. “Besides, you two are the ones that appeared out of nowhere.”

Chiara drew herself forward, standing next to Theseus. He could see her hand in her pocket, ready to draw her wand at the first sign of trouble.

“Who are you?” the girl asked. There was a flicker of recognition on her face as she looked at him.

“Theseus Scamander,” Theseus introduced. “And this is Chiara Wilson.”

The girl lowered her wand, her mouth wide open in the shape of an ‘o’.

“Scamander? As in Newt Scamander, those Scamander?”

Chiara laughed, making Theseus’s face flush. 

“He’s my brother.”

The girl elbowed her companion, looking pointedly at his wand hand. He nodded, putting his wand back into his scarlet robes.

“Radiant Glasspetal,” the girl introduced.

“Oliver Wood,” Oliver said simply.

That’s when it clicked for Theseus why he looked so familiar. 

Erik Wood was a former Auror who worked under him. He was a burly man with a loud laugh and a quick temper, but he was a good man. Was.

Erik Wood had died protecting him.

As he looked at him, he couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between them. Oliver had Erik’s nose and the same mouth. He was willing to bet he smiled like Erik as well.

“Wait a minute…” Radiant raised her right hand, holding out the golden hourglass in it. “Is… is this what brought us here?”

Chiara stepped forward. “May I?”

Radiant looked at her, skepticism in her gaze. After a moment, she shrugged and handed it over.

Theseus watched as Chiara held the object, turning it slowly around. Her gaze darted from the hourglass to the teens frequently.

“It’s a time turner,” she said after a moment. “Where did you get it?”

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck, wincing slightly. Radiant took the time turner back, looking a little sheepish.

“Malfoy stole it from Granger,” Oliver explained. “Draco Malfoy. Started messing with it at the end of our Quidditch practice. This bonnie lass here” — Oliver put his arm around Radiant’s shoulders. — “stole it back.”

“I did not!” Radiant retorted. “But next thing we know, we’re here,”

“You did too.”

“Oliver Sean Wood, if you don’t shut that gorgeous mouth of yours —”

“Quidditch practice?” Chiara interrupted. Theseus recognized the glimmer of excitement in her eyes. “You two play Quidditch?”

“She’s the best damn Chaser I’ve ever seen.” Oliver kissed Radiant’s temple, drawing her closer. “Practically unstoppable.”

Chiara reached for Theseus’s wrist, bringing him up next to her. He stumbled a little in the snow, but managed to not fall and look like an idiot.

Miracles were real.

“Salamander here is a pretty good Chaser,” Chiara said. “I’m willing to bet he rivals her.”

Theseus opened his mouth to object, but Oliver spoke before he had the opportunity to.

“I think there is only one way to settle this then, isn’t there?”

Chiara nodded in agreement.

Radiant turned to Oliver, an eyebrow raised. “We’re in the 20s and all you can think about is Quidditch?”

“Does this surprise you?”

“Absolutely not.”

While they were conversing, Theseus pulled Chiara back to look at her.

“Kiki, what are you thinking? You know the rules with time turners.”

“We’re settling this once and for all.” Chiara drew her wand. “Grab him and let’s get to Hogwarts.”

Before he could respond, Chiara grabbed Radiant’s hand. With a loud crack, the two Dissapparated. Theseus shook his head, sighing, and stepped closer to Oliver.

“She’s going to be the death of me, I swear.”

Without another word, the two Dissapparated after them.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

If there was one word Theseus could use to describe Chiara, he would say this: beautiful. If there was a second, it would be: gorgeous. A third: stunning. But if there was a fourth word? It was: eager.

In the few minutes it took Oliver and Theseus to reach the Quidditch pitch, Chiara had already grabbed four brooms, a Quaffle, and she had somehow managed to secure a Slytherin Quidditch cape that was around her shoulders.

“What took you so long?” Chiara asked as the two men approached.

“We were right behind you?” Theseus retorted.

“She sprinted,” Radiant loudly whispered.

Theseus shook his head, chuckling. “Of course she did.” He grabbed the broom that was handed to him by his demanding and impatient girlfriend.

Chiara didn’t wait any longer to start talking. “Alright. Radiant explained that Wood is a Keeper —”

“Damn right he is!” Radiant interrupted.

Theseus groaned. Oliver grinned, pulling her closer for a quick kiss.

“— and Theseus is a Chaser,” Chiara continued, ignoring them. “So you two versus us. First team to score fifty points wins.”

“Why fifty?” Oliver asked. “Scared of a long game?”

Chiara said something to him in Gaelic that Theseus didn’t quite catch. Oliver smirked, retorting Gaelic as well.

Before he knew what was going on, Chiara and Oliver were yelling at each other in Scottish Gaelic. He managed to catch a couple of words, but they were talking so quickly he couldn’t quite understand the conversation.

Radiant made her way over to Theseus, watching the two argue with an eyebrow raised. “Know what they’re saying?”

“Every third word.”

“Same here.”

Theseus chuckled, looking down at her. “We’re not going to be playing any Quidditch, are we?”

“Nope.” Radiant watched them, smirking. “But at least they’re having fun.”

[renren-006]

Original Masterlist!

Started: 7-29-22 Updated: 3-9-2025 Story count: 76

❀Stories❀:

(*** Means it is a requested story) In order: Ryan Gosling characters Ethan Hunt Daryl Dixion Henry Cavil Lucious Verus Marvel: Wanda, Bucky, Peter Parker(AG), Steve Rogers, Frank Castle Other: Bruce Wayne(Bale), Jeffery Dean Morgan, Dean Winchester, Fezco, Theseus, Alicent(HOD), Draco Malfoy

Ryan Gosling ✧

ONE SHOTS

Officer K

Heart of Gold

Driver

Get Away Driver

unworthy goodbyes

Sebastian Wilder

La vie en Rose

Sierra Six/Court Gentry

Double Trouble ***

Turning Tides ***

Rematch ***

Prince Charming ***

Protection Squad ***

Homework Problems ***

Polaroid

The Spy Next Door ***

Jealous Reader ***

SONG INSPIRED

Sierra Six/ Court Gentry

Loved *** (You Are Loved by Taylor Swift)

SMUT

Sierra Six/Court Gentry

Far Away

All you had to do was ask

Shy Boy ***

Ethan Hunt✧

ONE SHOTS

Promises

Reckoning ***

Lazy Saturdays ***

Falling in Love in France ***

Complete ***

Fallowing Along

Guard Dog ***

Daryl Dixon✧

ONE SHOT

Jealousy ***

Prisoner and Savior

Sunshine Optimist

"I Know"

Savior

Over the Years

Rainy Night Kisses

Y'all Didn't Know? ***

Gates

Angel ***

Helmets and Leather Jackets ***

DRABBLE

Keep her Safe.

KHS pt. 1

KHS pt. 2

SMUT

The Hearts Want

After

ABC

Henry Cavil ✧

ONE SHOTS

Geralt Of Rivera

Sleepovers

Wounds and Kisses ***

Preference ***

Clark Kent / Superman

Photo Worthy

Lucious Verus ✧

ONE SHOT

Familiar Eyes

Emperor Lucius

Doctors Magic

Amor Fati ***

MARVEL:

IMAGINS:

Bucky and Steve:

The boys comforting you about your ex

Wanda✧

ONE SHOT

Magnets

Love Knot

I Knew you in another life

Red Strings (Visualising)

Bucky✧

ONE SHOT

Car Troubles

The Book

Pain Tolerance

RAMBLE

Remember

SONG INSPIRED

Pickin Boys (Slim Pickings by Sabrina Carpenter )

Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield)✧

ONE SHOT

Skyscraper

Steve Rogers

ONE SHOT

Reading Nook(Visualization)

DRABBLE

Time

Frank Castle

ONE SHOT

Hells Kitchen

Other

Bruce Wayne✧

ONE SHOT

The Love of a Bat

No More Secrets

Jeffry Dean Morgan✧

Negan

ONE SHOTS

Prisoner and Savior

To Love and Trust

SERIES:

Love Lost

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3?

John Winchester

ONE SHOT

Hunt

Dean Winchester✧

DRABBLES

Deans Playlist

ONE-SHOTS

Fezco✧

ONE SHOT

Anger and Love ***

You Did a Bad Thing Twice ***

Theseus Scamander ✧

SMUT

Magic Hands ***

JJ Maybank✧

ONE SHOT

Bruises

Alicent Hightower✧

ONE SHOT

From the Castle Walls

Draco Malfoy✧

ONE SHOT

Taken

[prettybillycore]

FOR TOMMY | Letter #7 Tread lightly, Newt

Pairing(s): Thomas Shelby x Original Character

Universe: Peaky Blinders / Fantastic Beasts

Summary: Veela and Seer- a powerful combination of traits for one person to have. Edith Lillian Scamander falls in love with a young Thomas Shelby while working in a nurse’s ward during WWI. Will her feelings be requited, or will she be doomed to pine over the man of her dreams for eternity hopelessly?

Rating: Teen

Warnings: none

Read on AO3 or Scroll down to read it right here on Tumblr below the cut!

You know that I would not write you if the situation was not dire. I know that you and Edith have your differences, but I also know you care about her safety and well-being. I have just received a concerning letter in the mail from her. She has officially ended her engagement with Lucretius. We both saw this coming, but I thought she would have come to one of us for help. Instead, she states in her letter that she will not be telling us where she is going. She stated that she will contact me when she feels safe to do so. Something doesn’t feel right about this. I am very worried for her, Theseus. Where could she possibly go that she would be safe from the wrath of a Malfoy? Other than with one of us of course. I doubt she would have gone to you instead of me, but I hope she’s safe in your living room drinking that tea she always likes. If she is not with you, I fear the worst. Would you be able to do something at the ministry to help locate her? I cannot bear to lose her, Theseus. I am going to start looking for her myself; I will check with everyone she was friendly with in school if I have to. If you hear anything of her whereabouts, tell me immediately. Do not approach her by yourself; she’s always been quite reactive toward you and she’s probably scared beyond belief right now.

Tread lightly,

Newt

[nincompoopydoo]

CAUGHT IN A CROSSFIRE

ALL THINGS MUST END — ; PART 10 / 10

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 4.7k SUMMARY: You and Theseus awaken in a place that feels all too familiar, uncovering that the truth behind Miriam’s intentions lies within the act of revenge itself. This is a tale of betrayal, love, and hatred, but it's also the story of how you learn to love again. A/N: This is it! I’m so so nervous for yall to read this, but I hope you like it!! I want to take a moment to thank everyone who has been here either from day one or at any time you found this series– thanks for sticking around. WARNINGS: Swearing. Angst. Injuries. Mentions of hurt. Mentions of being burnt (it’s not detailed), Mentions of death. Theseus being a simp (HAHA). No beta as always we die like men. MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Augustus Warden was a tyrant, characterised by his uncaring, manipulative, and violent nature towards anyone who dared to oppose him. He held a firm belief in eradicating magic, viewing it as inherently evil, and saw himself as a saviour destined to rid the world of it. 

Augustus Warden was also Miriam’s father. 

Well, he could hardly call himself a father. He was never one to her. And was never a husband to her mother. 

Augustus became obsessed with the perception of a saviour complex. It drove Miriam’s mother away, leaving her to deal with her father’s aggression and temper. Yet, Augustus's influence within the scourers' community grew, and The Gardenia Society landed itself in the thick of the chaos.

Again. Being hunted.

When your brother began showing signs of magic, your mother feared for his life. She had known about a distant ancestor with magical abilities for quite some time, though she hadn’t expected it to resurface in her only son.

Your brother was born at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

Your mother sought the help of Miriam, her closest friend. Almost a sister to her. She trusted her with her life. Nobody knew about your brother’s abilities besides your family and Miriam. It was a well-kept secret for the society's and your family's safety.

So, when word got out about your brother, your mother knew who had leaked the secret. Or so she thought.

The inhumane arrest of a boy. To be burned at the stake. Those were the words of the people. Just like their ancestors did. Hence, your mother decided to retaliate that betrayal of trust with Miriam for turning against her and her family. Miriam was then accused of being a witch and is the sole reason behind everything that happened to your brother.

She knew her father was insane but never knew he would ever go this far.

Her father. He showed no mercy.

“You dirty witch.”

Those were the words of the people, it rang against her ears.

Miriam remembers the fear etched in her throat. How her heart was beating out of her chest as she screamed, pleading to Augustus that this was all on pretence.

Yet, it seems that Augustus had been searching for a way to get rid of Miriam and finally found the opportunity.

A ball of flame in the darkness lit on a matchstick.

Augustus Warden stands tall and looming as he creeps from the shadows. He holds the little match with a grim twist to the edge of his lips. No sign of remorse. No sign of guilt.

“You did this to him … So long, witch.”

He tosses the matchstick.

Flames engulf Miriam.

Your family fled from the village with the help of The Gardenia Society and several Aurors, landing yourselves in the heart of London where the Warden would never find your brother. Since then, you had your memories erased.

But nothing ever stays permanent. And nothing ever truly dies.

–

Darkness.

Theseus struggles to grasp reality, feeling his presence as the memories from moments ago flood in.

He remembers … you. On the ground. Bleeding.

Immediately, he’s wide awake.

His surroundings are a blur, in the process of recollecting his thoughts when all that fills his head is you. Theseus then realises he’s seated; it’s cold, solid against his back and causes his slumped figure to lay straight on its surface.

A pungent smell suddenly fills his senses. Gasoline. He smells gasoline.

Merlin’s beard—

As he regains his sight, he recognises the room he is in. It’s circular, lined with seats to portray an amphitheatre. It’s a courtroom, though its structure tells a different story. Frescos held by its walls were heavily worn with time, abandoned, and unseen. This may be a ministry courtroom, but no longer operational.

The courtroom is filled with members of The Restoration Movement, all eyes on him. Among them, Morrigan and Mulberry stand sentinel, their scrutiny unyielding.

This is also when Theseus realises he is missing his wand.

Why on earth would Miriam bring him back to the ministry?

Before he could even begin to question it, Theseus spots you lying unconscious on the floor before him, in a pool of liquid. You’re drenched in gasoline too, he’s sure of it. It sends a sudden surge of shock to his heart, and there’s an immediate sense of urgency in how he moves to you, yet he stays unmoving in his seat.

Theseus glances at his arms and notices they have been bound with chains attached to the seat’s armrest. Eyes now wide, they return to your unmoving figure on the ground and all he thinks is to pull and pull and pull. Still, he can only watch you from a distance.

“Look at you. Helpless. Desperate. Seems like she changed you for the worse, Theseus.”

Miriam appears before him, you lay at her feet, tone laced with sarcasm as it booms through the courtroom. Strong and relinquished. Her expression wild, flashing with anger, hurt, and betrayal—hardened without an ounce of fragility and mercy in sight.

“Why are you doing this?”

There’s a tone of desperation tinged in his voice and it shakes him to his core. Theseus has been afraid plenty of times—during his training, the war. He has seen unspeakable things, but never has he been in the position of seeing someone he cares so tortured and bruised.

It clicks in his head. The ministry is the last place anyone would find them. Miriam is no fool.

Theseus heaves a silent prayer, hoping that despite the impossibilities of the day's events, both of you would make it out alive.

His gaze returns to you, catching a glimmer in your eye. You’re awake. Barely, but you are.  Your body remains frozen, yet your eyes convey a silent assurance, hidden from Miriam's sharp scrutiny. It's a subtle promise that you'll endure. That you’ll be fine.

Miriam’s smile widens as her expression morphs into a cynical, surprised look, mocking his question.

“I laid out all the clues, and you still haven't figured it out? Perhaps you weren't as intelligent as I thought.”

Despite the gravity of the moment, Theseus restrains the impulse to roll his eyes. Of course, he quickly discerned the laid-out clues: the open door, the photograph, and the brooch. Yet, certain questions remain unanswered—how did his brother become privy to Miriam's existence, and how did he predict Theseus's unravelling of the hidden messages in the letters?

Perhaps, Miriam doesn’t know why either.

“All I want is to destroy her. The Gardenia Society. Everything her mother ever loved.”

Miriam speaks in a manner of delusional confidence. A false sense of belief that her actions are deemed righteous. That whatever she intends to do is all for justice.

And it all ties back to your mother and the Gardenia Society.

Theseus watches the way her eye twitches, a flicker of sheer annoyance.

Something feels wrong. Or missing?

“Yet, you, dear Theseus. You always had a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and now I have no choice but to take you with her,” Miriam declares, her tone laced with frustration.

Theseus merely scoffs. It sends Miriam boiling.

"You’re a hypocrite, Miriam. You revelled in meddling in everyone's lives, in my family's lives. Tell me, Miriam, did you truly believe we wanted you around?"

“Shut up –”

“We only did because we felt bad for you. After your husband passed –”

“I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING PITY.”

Her voice tears through the room, booming against its very walls. Miriam's eyes blaze with fury as she strides toward Theseus, and in an instant, her hand connects with his cheek in a resounding slap that leaves it stinging.

Unbeknownst to anyone but Theseus, you are wide awake, silently observing his calculated provocations aimed at pushing Miriam to her limits. With each jab, you understand his strategy, sensing the gears turning in his mind as he buys time. Knowing Theseus, he probably had a plan in motion before he came for you.

Through her distractions, you take it as an opportunity to survey your surroundings,  noting the dilapidated state of the room. Amidst the debris, a broken piece of wood catches your eye—it looks like a post that came apart from a railing. Its edges are sharpened after being torn apart. Something you could weaponise if you needed to.

Immediately you exchange a fleeting glance with Theseus. He’s looking right at you, though almost unnoticeable. You aren’t sure how you could tell, but there’s a silent understanding that develops between the of you.

Something is about to happen.

Just then, a sudden thud echoes from beyond the courtroom. It comes from the room’s entrance.

Miriam's attention snaps toward the sound, prompting you to feign unconsciousness once more. As she directs one of the men to investigate, the pieces fall into place.

Theseus just hopes the plan is set in motion.

He takes a deep breath before fixing Miriam with a steely gaze “You know, Miriam. Something doesn’t quite add up.”

Miriam's jaw clenches in response. “And what is that?” she retorts, her tone edged with defiance.

“The fact that I’m the one who’s in this chair, instead of her … This isn’t just about revenge on her mother isn’t it?”

He sees it. Only a flicker. Her facade slips ever so slightly. 

“I’m not stupid, Miriam.”

A beat. The air thickens.

Theseus watches intently as she takes his words in. Then, she steps back, creating distance from him once more. As if she’s almost afraid he’ll be able to detect any sort of falter or weakness in her.

Her once furious eyes are now almost solemn.

“Oleander was … ambitious, hard-headed, and strong-willed man.” Miriam begins, her gaze distant. “Despite all his faults, I loved him. He promised me an escape from my father's tyranny, a chance for us to be together at last.”

Her eyes flicker towards you, still prone on the ground, and a tumult of emotions washes over her face—a mixture of anger and hurt.

“Then, her mother accused me of betraying the very secret that shielded her brother," Miriam continues, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I became a pawn in their game, a scapegoat to be sacrificed. Oleander vanished, leaving me to face the consequences alone.”

So, it’s all for love. Or more for the betrayal she felt. 

"I discovered years later that it was he who leaked the secret. Turns out he was an Auror, undercover. He seduced the daughter of a Scourer to infiltrate my wretched father's inner circle. When everything went awry, he led the operation to save the members of The Gardenia Society," Miriam pauses, regaining composure as she continues, "But not me."

Then, Miriam turns to him once more.

"You remind me of him, Theseus. A little too much. All you seek is justice, yet you have no qualms about destroying lives in your path. You deem some unworthy and strike them down, all in the name of righteousness. Just like him. I will not stand by and let history repeat itself."

Fishing something from the pocket of her coat, Theseus discerns its shape in the dim light—a matchbox.

But, Theseus isn’t afraid. Not anymore.

It instead conjures a smile from him—all in rebellious smite.

“You won’t kill me.”

His tone is mocking. It elicits a frown from Miriam.

“What makes you think I won’t end you like the rest? I’ve killed muggles. I've killed her entire family without hesitation. I’m not afraid.”

“But you won’t kill me. Well, you can’t kill me,” Theseus counters with confidence as he clocks movement in the background.

“What?”

“All things must end, Miriam.”

Just then, a sudden flash of blue streaks across the courtroom and hits Morrigan in the shoulder. She collapses at impact.

Immediately, chaos erupts in the courtroom. Aurors flood the room, emerging from every corner of the amphitheatre as the surprise attack begins. Flashes of blinding blue, green and red bolt across the expanse as the attack began.

Theseus sees Travers in the crossfire, Mulberry collapsed on the ground at his feet. His expression is solemn, it’s a reflection after knowing the truth, but also a silent recognition and gratitude to Theseus that if he did not make it in time, this whole place would be in flames.  It was risky if anything were to happen to him, but thankfully, his Patronus found Travers and knew of his current location. It was the right call.

Through the impossibilities of today, a miracle did happen.

Miriam’s face splits into pure horror and she loses her concentration amidst the onslaught. Before she can react, you spring into action, wielding the broken piece of wood you had your eye on with fierce determination. Instantly, you strike Miriam on the head with a forceful blow that immediately sends her to the ground, rendering her unconscious.

Miraculously, the binds that held him to the chair disappear, finally able to get to you.

Well, that certainly works.

Breathless and weary, you stand on the edge of exhaustion, your body protesting with every step as you find yourself teetering on the brink of collapse. Despite your efforts to remain upright, your knees finally give out, sending you to the ground. With palms outstretched, you strain against the weight of fatigue, muscling all your strength to keep yourself from falling.

You then feel him. His grip finds the curve of your shoulder and your arm, supporting the weight of your own. It's warm, gentle, desperate yet assuring.

Theseus stares down at you with panic in his eyes. 

“Are you alright?” 

The words hang in the air as you grapple with the question. 

Are you really alright?

“... She killed my family.” you choke out, your voice strained with grief as you struggle to contain a sob. Immediately his hand finds your cheek, fingers against cold skin. They are soft. Grounding.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly.

You feel the gentle drag of his thumb just below your eye. It’s only then your blurred vision from the welling of tears, cheeks stained with the desolation and hurt that begins to settle within you. It hits you, gradually, but the pain is turning unbearable. It’s the physical pain searing through your back and the emotional hurt from everything that’s happened.

All you wanted was for this to end.

And now, when it is, where does it leave you?

Theseus’ careful touch remains on your cheek, his other hand firm against your shoulder. He can see the way your mind begins to spiral. 

He says your name. You finally bring your eyes to meet his.

Furrowed brows, charming eyes, cheeks tinged with a little colour of red, vaguely tousled hair.

A small smile plays on his lips.

“We should get out of here, don’t you think?”

–

2 MONTHS LATER

My dearest,

I hope this letter finds you in consolation and comfort, though I must admit that my own heart is heavy with the weight of the news I bear of the fate of your brother.

Contrary to our belief, your brother did not meet his end on the battlefield, as we were led to believe. Instead, he orchestrated his demise when he sought information on your mother and The Gardenia Society. Through our research and Miriam’s testimony, we gathered that your brother was intentionally recruited into the Restoration Movement and allied with Morrigan. He had every intention to seek Miriam and avenge your mother’s death. He was part of the operation until Miriam sensed his true plan and decided to eliminate him. No matter the situation, Miriam would’ve killed him in the end, but she intended to use him to get to you first. This was when her plan started to fall apart.

This is all we know thus far. I shall keep looking for more. Your brother was a brave soul. He saved your life.

With that said, I hope this brings you some peace. 

You must know you have been a constant in my mind these past few months. Though I understand your need to be alone at this time, nothing can ever describe the unthinkable things you have been through.

But perhaps, if you wish so, we could meet at St Mary’s Gardens in Woolwich. I hear it’s near your current home. I’ll be there on Sunday at 10 in the morning, should you choose to join me. It’ll be good to see your face once more.

Yours,Theseus

You’ve read this letter a hundred times since a certain familiar owl dropped it on your windowsill, just like the other times it had done so. Letters from Theseus were merely part of your days for the past two months, your desk in your bedroom filled with parchments of handwritten letters, signed by the very man that saved your life and sought to protect you.

Despite this, you never once gave a reply to any of his letters. Truth be told, you had been avoiding Theseus, a subconscious decision to try and distance yourself from everything related to magic. You never wanted to push him away, but you didn’t know how to separate yourself from the events with The Restoration Movement and Miriam without being in his presence. Theseus reminded you of all you’ve lost, though you seem to have forgotten the one thing you’ve gained.

You never saw him when Miriam was put on trial. When the ministry convinced you to step in as a witness, to give your testimony. In return, a deal was made—you get to keep your memories but sworn to secrecy. You somehow suspected that Theseus is the very reason the Ministry is so willing to work with you.

But it was overwhelming. Especially at the start. To talk about everything.

You pushed him away but It didn’t stop Theseus from writing to you. Update after update. He understands your grief better than you would expect. 

Theseus never gave up on you. And for a moment, you wonder why you ever gave up on him.

A gust of wind whips through the deck of the Woolwich Ferry, tugging at the letter from your fingers. For a moment, it seemed like it would slip from your grasp, lost to the currents of the River Thames. Your heart leaps as you tighten your grip, fingers curling around the paper as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality.

You clung to every word like it was a lifeline. His words were the first thing you reached for in the morning, the reassuring touch that helped you muster the strength to face another day alone. 

Though certain words made your heart thrum a little faster than usual.

You must know you have been a constant in my mind these past few months.

You know how you feel about Theseus, but now, it’s clear as day.

Perhaps you don’t have to be alone anymore.

The ferry comes to a halt by Woolwich Pier, and your hands start getting clammy. From your position trailing behind a line of people as you step off the ferry, you can spot the gardens, a small gathering of trees amid the urban landscape.

However, you’re distracted, your mind lingering on the words that filled Theseus's letter.

It’ll be good to see your face once more.

The passing scenery catches you off guard and grounds you back to reality when you realise you’re already at the entrance of St Mary’s Gardens. Towering trees with arched branches and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze that shines golden against the morning sunlight. The trees cast shadows on the ground, dancing along the lush yet overgrown grass. 

And there, you see Theseus.

He seems anxious, movements betraying a nervous energy that mirrored your own. One moment, he’s seated; the next, he’s standing; and another, he’s pacing as if unable to settle into one spot for more than a moment.

You watch him for a moment, somehow unable to move. 

God, you miss him.

Then, as if he had sensed your presence, he’s turning around only to meet your gaze. In an instant, a wave of relief washes over his face, melting away the tension that had gripped him moments before. His expression softens at the mere sight of you. His expression splits into a smile that lights up his entire face.

Theseus says your name, and you feel the sudden warmth that floods your chest.

“Theseus.”

He carefully ambles to you, halting just about a foot away.

“You look …”

Tired, distraught, awful—

“Beautiful.”

Your heart picks up speed and pulls a bashful smile from you. You can’t even look at him without going red.

“Thank you. You look …”

Handsome, charming, the most beautiful man you’ve ever encountered.

“—well too. At least from the last time I saw you.”

The two of you were at St Mungo’s. Theseus had his arm around your waist, bearing the weight of your weakened frame as you stumbled, the sudden nausea overwhelming you after apparating to the hospital. In the reception area, you doubled over and vomited.

Just like old times.

Then, you were separated ever since.

Theseus mirrors your smile, similarly coy.

“I was beginning to think you were ignoring me for good.”

Your heart breaks a little at his words. “Look, Theseus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just …” you trail off, unable to finish your words. You feel guilty.

“No, it’s—you don’t have to apologise. You needed space, I understand that.” Theseus says with an edge of anxiety. As if one wrong word, you’ll go running. He purses his lips and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“I was just worried about you, that’s all.”

Your heart stutters. Theseus has always been so caring that it’s almost overwhelming.

He senses a shift in the air. He knows to be careful and patient. You need time. And he’s willing to wait as long as you want him to.

“If you would like, we could meet again. Same place, same time?”

“I would like that a lot, Theseus.”

–

Your Sundays were then days that truly felt brighter. Theseus works through the week at odd hours, yet ensures to keep his weekends free. Every Sunday, he’s there at St Mary’s Gardens, to give you an update on the investigation.

You find out how your mother passed in America at the hands of Miriam and how your brother may have been a seer, though unproven. It was the only explanation as to how he predicted you would even meet Theseus.

You buried your family. Three empty caskets.

Those times were the hardest. The realisation that secrets had been kept from you left you feeling helpless. Yet, through it all, Theseus stood by your side.

Weeks drift by, the case closes and Miriam and her followers are put behind bars. Still, Theseus ends with the same words:

“Same place, same time?”

So, Sundays turned into Fridays. Then, Wednesdays and Mondays—Theseus always found a way to weave you into his life, despite the hectic life of being an Auror. With his career on the rise from his hard work with your case, it’s hard for him to make time, but he makes it a point to see you, to hear your voice, to check up on you ever so often.

Theseus carries a certain air of enthusiasm when he’s with you. It’s carefully placed, disguised behind his calm demeanour, but you hope he knows how much you share that same enthusiasm whenever you see him. Whether it’s traversing through Hyde Park or sharing meals, these little times tend to be the highlights of your week. It revolves all around him.

Your love for Theseus doesn’t come careening in like an arrow pieced to your heart or a shock to the discernment of your feelings for him.

It’s gradual. And it grows larger and larger with every passing day. With every passing second.

And here you are, leaning against the railing that overlooks the River Thames, brushing shoulders with Theseus as you finish your ice cream. The river glimmers under the setting sun, and a gentle warm breeze sweeps through as the two of you watch Tower Bridge light up in comfortable silence.

“I saw Mr. Shacklebolt the other day,” you chirp suddenly, gaze trailing the ducks by the shore. The skies begin to turn dark as the crowds diminish, but you feel safe. Especially with Theseus.

Theseus turns to you with a curious furrow of his brows. “Who?”

You hum. It’s soft and contemplative and it causes a small smile to creep on your lips. “My old employer. He fired me months back. Before, you know, everything that happened –”

You catch your slipping and immediately halt your sentence, back to munching on your almost-gone ice cream cone.

Before I met you.

He recognises the implication and the sudden shift of your expression. It’s so vague, but he sees it. He always does.

Theseus takes a pause and decides to not address it.

“Really? So, did you clock him in the jaw?” There’s a hint of mischief in his tone and it causes you to laugh. Theseus’ eyes crinkle at the sight.

“I would have. He was right across the street. But, I decided not to. Not because he was with his children and I didn’t want them to see their father get knocked out by a lady –”

It’s Theseus’ turn to laugh. Your face splits into a grin as you continue. “I realised I wouldn’t be where I am today if he hadn’t fired me that day.”

A beat. You’re mustering up some sort of courage to make your care for Theseus known. To put it under the spotlight for everyone to see. From the corner of your eye, you can see him staring at you, taking you in, clinging to every word you say.

“And I wouldn’t have met you.” 

You huff, feeling incredibly restless as you turn to face him.

“Theseus, I don’t think I ever thanked you for everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life, and you never gave up on me. I thank you for that.”

He goes quiet in an almost bashful manner now tucked into the pockets of his slacks as he replies, “I try my best … or are you just saying that because I bought you ice cream?”

“Oh piss off!” you snap back at his tease with ardent humour, jabbing him in his shoulder with your finger.

You watch him squirm away with a casual laugh, beaming at you like you’re the sun. At this moment you decide you’re not waiting anymore. God, you don’t even know why you waited this long.

Theseus falls silent, his gaze still fixed on you with a curious beam that ignites a sudden surge of courage within you—courage you never knew you had.

In an instant, you’re surging to him, closing the distance between you where your lips meet his. It’s clumsy, graceless and so quick that it’s almost dreamlike in its brevity. You’re looking at him with wide eyes as if you couldn’t believe what you had just done.

You kissed him.

And Theseus looks like he’s about to explode.

"It seems that you just beat me to it," he breathes, his own lips tingling with the burning imprint of yours.

His words elicit an airy laugh from you, and as you mirror his grin, Theseus feels his heart skip a beat at the sight. Of all the times he’d known you, he had never seen you this light, this warm, this … happy.

He can’t explain it, but an impulse drives to reach for your hand, fingers tangled in your own as he brings his other to the curve of your cheek, warm to the touch. Vacant from tears, but lined with crinkles of laughter and smiles.

He feels the same way when with you.

At that moment, Theseus leans in to press his lips to yours once more. It’s different from before—more gentle, honest, and grounding.

It’s beautiful.

You’ve lived your life full of discrepancies and contradictions, but Theseus is the one thing you were so certain about. It’s a final profound sense of clarity.

Entwined with his fingers, there’s a sense of contentment that settles within you. As if the happiness you always sought has finally found its way into your life.

TAGLIST: (i really hope i got this right ;-;)

@crumpets-are-better-with-jam

@inlovewithfictionalcharacters27

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@orchiidflwer

[saintsstranger]

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.

[dearamelia]

hey! i am a (really) new reader insert fanfiction blog (but an experienced writer, don't worry ♡), dedicated to writing for characters from: the main harry potter series, marauders era, and the fantastic beasts series.

★ my requests are OPEN ! 🎉

please send in any requests/ideas you may have and want written !! i will happily write: Oneshots, Headcanons, Preferences, and more !!

── i will write for (almost) any characters from these fandoms !!! even if i have not included them in the tags of this post i probably will still accept requests for them !! ★ ♡

edit: also, i will not write smut so please don't request it ♡