Nearly every night, Newt went on a walk into the nearby forest. It started as early as his time in Hogwarts. Everything about forests calmed him: the scent of trees and plants, the cries and scuttles of creatures and insects, the sunlight or moonlight peeking through the thick canopy.
It was on one of these walks that he’d met you, a metamorphagus.
Newt was on one of his more familiar paths, the road worn in by his recurring footsteps. Critters, both magical and non, gathered on the surrounding trees and along the road, watching his graceful glide through the woods with anticipation, undoubtedly hoping he would spoil them with one of his treats. He recognized some of them. A squirrel with a distinct pattern on its tail, a bowtruckle with a broken arm he’d attempted to treat, and a family of joberknolls surrounding the egg he’d saved, to name a few.
What he didn’t recognize was the trail of footsteps on his path. They started human, following the same route Newt had pressed into the soil over the course of many years, but quickly grew to alternate between various tracks. He would have ignored it, had it not been for the duck feet. That was too strange.
The footsteps trailed off the road, seemingly having settled on bear paws large enough for both of his feet to fit in a print and then some. The bush surrounding the trail thickened until it opened up to a clearing he’d never seen before. It was irregularly shaped, as in it was a perfect circle. The grass was cut to perfection, trees surrounding it almost like a dome roof to a well-crafted building.
In the middle of it all was a giant brown bear, lying on its side in a small pool of blood.
Once the crimson entered his sight, Newt was on his knees, rushing to the wounded animal to assess the damage. He spoke in hushed whispers, talking it through every step of the process even though he assumed it couldn’t understand. His hands were gentle, even as they did the bloodier work of stitching the wound together. He found it strange that the bear didn’t protest throughout it all, but was too concerned to pay it much mind.
By the time he’d finished treatment, the moon had taken its place in the sky, and Newt felt fatigue snake throughout his body. The bear laid as it had when he arrived, now unconscious from the pain, yet almost serene in the moonlit clearing.
It laid in Newt’s newly made forest enclosure not long after.
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When Newt awoke the next day, he flinched with discomfort. He’d neglected his bed in favor of a chair he’d placed next to the forest enclosure, having watched the injured bear until his eyes could no longer stay open. He shuffled on his chair a bit, grimacing at the bits of dried blood he failed to clean off the night prior, and was too preoccupied to notice the man standing not far from him.
“Who are you?” You spoke, startling Newt and nearly knocking him off his chair. He looked up at you, already tense.
“I-I believe I should be the one asking that question, don’t you?” He managed to breathe out, only now realizing the implications of another person being in his case. His mind ran like a freight train, considering every possible cause and outcome of the situation.
Meanwhile, you watched this antsy man with an air of serenity about you. Your movements were slow, still hindered by the stitches on your ribs, and meaningful in showing him that you meant no harm.
“I’m the one you healed last night.” You slowly lift your tattered shirt, wincing as dried blood aggravated the flesh around the stitches, to show the wound.
“The bear?” He questions, fear replaced with interest. “You’re an animagus, then?” He asks, and you cant help but smile at the assumption.
“Metamorphagus, actually,” you correct while willing your hand into the shape of a lobster claw and sprouting bunny ears on your head. You shake the claw playfully, smirking mirthfully at Newt’s widening eyes.
Once he gets over the initial shock, Newt flicks his eyes away from the animal parts and down to the wound, silently cursing himself for letting his curiosity get the better of him.
“Sit here,” Newt hurriedly gets off the chair and gestures to it with both hands, gently pushing you over to it. You oblige, amused by his antics.
“I’m quite alright now, Mr…” you trail off, realizing you didn’t even know the man’s name yet.
“Oh—Scamander. Newt Scamander,” he replies offhandedly, now distracted by a handful of bottles and herbs he pulled out of a bag you hadn’t noticed was sitting next to the chair. You give your own name in kind, although you can’t be sure that he heard it. He’s kneeling next to you on the side your injury is on, gently applying some sort of salve onto the skin around it.
The interaction was mostly a blur, Newt too focused on treating your wound and you too woozy from blood loss for either of you to do much talking. It did, however, end with an exchange of contacts and a promise to meet again. For healing purposes, Newt told himself, but he found it difficult to ignore the strange feeling in his chest that arose at the thought of seeing you again.
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It didn’t take long for you to realize just how danger-prone the wizard was.
Over the years, every time the two of you met, Newt had a new injury without fail. Some of them were minor—scrapes and bruises came naturally when constantly working with wild animals, after all—but some were far too concerning.
The most notable memory was when Newt told his story of being chased by dark wizards through a forest whilst searching for the last known unicorn in that country. A regular occurrence, according to him. He’d knocked on your door with his non dominant hand due to the other one being wrapped in a sling, and you knew from that moment on that you couldn’t leave this insane man be.
You offered to be his bodyguard. You were far better versed in defense against the dark arts, and being a metamorphagus gave you an advantage in nearly all combat scenarios, after all.
He rejected your offer countless times, but after the third time he showed up on your doorstep out of fear of being followed to his own home, he was forced to accept that maybe you had a point.
From that point on, you became his bodyguard, traveling with him as he scoured the world for endangered magical creatures and protected them with his life. You cared for the animals, yes, but you cared mostly about Newt. As he’d lay down his life for his creatures, you’d do the same for him.
What you didn’t realize was that he felt the same.
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You thought your lungs would explode at the rate they were working. Your four paws pounded against the drenched forest floor as you ran away from the dark wizards that chased you, trying not to wince as rainwater pelted your eyes. Newt was a few steps ahead, coat flopping in the wind frantically as he held his case to his chest like it would disappear at any moment.
The wizards trailed behind you, a group of three in masks and long dark robes that seemed to flow slowly in the wind regardless of the raging storm that roared around you. They didn’t run, only levitated, and continually fired spells that you’d never heard of before but knew would leave you in excruciating pain.
The sounds of bark splintering and magic crackling was so deafening you didn’t notice the thunder until it was too late.
One strong bolt of lightning came down on a tree just as Newt ran past it, leaving you to stagger in order to avoid being crushed by it. By the time the panic subsided, your opponents had gotten close. Too close.
A quick glance told you that Newt was still running, seemingly unknowing of the chaos that just unfolded behind him. With a deep breath, you turned to face the dark wizards.
They floated in a triangular formation, two only slightly off the ground with a third higher up. They seemed to emanate a faint sickly green glow that you couldn’t pinpoint the origin of. All three held up their wands to you, and you quickly transformed into a hummingbird to dodge.
From there the fight flowed with ease. Your transformations felt as natural as breathing, going between small critters to dodge and weave to your most comfortable brown bear form to leave deadly hits and slashes on your enemies.
Before you knew it, the two that floated closer to the ground were laying flat in a pool of their own blood, not dead but not able to recover until you could make a safe getaway. Just as you transformed back into a bear to leave one last hit on the final wizard’s back, you heard Newt’s voice pierce through the storm. He yelled your name, and you were too late to realize there was a fourth wizard in the trees that left a spell in your ribs.
Your target went down as you did, though you couldn’t process it with how fuzzy your mind felt. By the time you were on the forest floor, a sharp pain had spread around your ribs and left your entire side throbbing. A scream bubbled up your throat but died out before it could escape.
The last thing you saw before your vision went black was a fuzzy silhouette of Newt hovering over you, dread written in the blurry lines.
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You awoke to a familiar sight. Trees creating a canopy of leaves over your head, thick enough to hide the artificial feel of the synthetic sky. You only registered the pain in your side when you remembered breathing was a thing.
“Oh, thank Merlin, you’re awake!” You heard Newt’s voice from somewhere nearby. Only then did you realize you were still in your bear form and that he was laying next to you on the forest floor, holding your giant bear paw with both human hands.
He was immediately on his knees, hands sifting through blood-sticky fur and making medical assessments you were too groggy to attempt to understand. Only after he slipped a potion past your lips and the pain faded were you able to properly process his words.
“—I knew it was a bad idea to bring you with me, I should’ve—” you tried to speak, but the human words felt heavy and sticky in your maw. With a sigh, you relax and allow yourself to slip into human form, which seems to do the trick to bring Newt back to attention.
“I’m so sorry—are you alright, love?” Newt hovers over you, the sight of furrowed brows and tight frowns consuming your vision. The trees have made way to allow a bit of the sunlight in, and it blankets Newt in a near angelic silhouette.
“I like the sound of that.” You can’t help the smile that creeps its way onto your face, even through the flash of pain from your dry lips.
“Sorry, the sound of what? Are you hearing things?”
“You called me ‘love.’ I could get used to that.”
“Well that’s—” Newt trails off, seemingly replaying his words, then grows still. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“You didn’t? Shame.” Your mouth was moving faster than your brain at this point, letting words tumble from your lips that normally would’ve stayed locked far away. Newt seems shocked, and you laugh.
“Yes, Newt, I’m alright.” You try to sit up, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through your side. A strange sense of deja-vu accompanies it. “Since I’m alright, you have nothing to be regretful about.” You look Newt in the eye as sternly as you can with your face scrunched up in pain, but it doesn’t seem to deter his train of thought.
“You almost weren’t alright. You nearly died. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I knew that you… especially because I brought you with me.” He looks away, face twisted by a faraway pain known only to him. Your heart softens, and you reach out with slight difficulty to grasp his bloodied hand with your own.
“Anything that happens to me on these expeditions is my responsibility and mine alone. I chose to join you of my own volition, because I love you and care about you and want to be there for you at all times, especially the dangerous ones.”
Newt turned to study you with careful eyes, and you returned the gaze with fierce ones. Reluctant acceptance flashes across his face and you know you’ve won.
“As long as you let me care for you when you get hurt,” he whispers, and you can’t help but smile.
“Of course. You are the expert when it comes to healing, after all.”
Newt grins at you and pulls away to clean the area around you, waving and flicking his wand to toss crusty bandages into bins and medicinal herbs back into his bag. There’s a certain glow that surrounds him when he does magic. He appears brighter—rejuvenated, even covered in now-brown blood and dirt from the forest floor.
Familiar affection bubbles up in your chest, warming you from the inside out. It molds your lips into a dopey grin, and before you know it, you’re reaching out to gently grasp his free wrist.
“Newt,” you call out to him, and your heart soars as he meets your eyes once more. He raises his eyebrows in response, a silent invitation to continue.
“I love you,” you answer. Sweet and short.
“I..” he trails off, and you can see the moment a burst of confidence pushes him to speak. “I love you, too.”
Satisfied with the response, you relax back onto the forest floor and close your eyes, taking in deep breaths of the crisp air. It’s a reminder of how much care Newt puts into his creatures’ temporary homes, and it’s relaxing enough to lull you into a state between awake and asleep.
Eventually, once he’s done with tidying, Newt returns to your side with tentative footsteps. You sluggishly open your arms as a silent invitation for him to join, and the two of you fall asleep on the forest floor, tangled limbs like roots of a tree.