Chapter 21
Chapter 21
The storm clouds that Newt had earlier spied on the horizon over Lake Ontario steadily made their way across the sky and blanketed Toronto. The heavy sky grumbled with distant thunder as Llewellyn and George made their way from the pub. Llewellyn stopped at his boardinghouse to pick up a bottle of wine.
He couldn’t decide which to bring. He scratched at his neck awkwardly as he puzzled - Which one would Newt like more? Which one said “I think I’ve developed strong feelings for you, and I don’t know what to do with this information”?
He ended up grabbing a Moscato d’Asti ...a dessert wine. The wine’s notes of flower blossoms and sunny ripe peaches made him think of Newt...his sweet gentleness, his soft eyes...he felt the proverbial butterflies in his stomach, but they seemed significantly more aggressive than fluttery.
He hoped he’d made the right choice.
They’d made it halfway to the King Edward before the sky opened up. George and Llewellyn found themselves caught in a torrential downpour - the rain pelting them like tiny angry fists...much like the violent butterflies in Llewellyn's stomach. They splashed through puddles as they trudged along undeterred as their fellow pedestrians ran for cover.
Llewellyn hoped the rain was an auspicious sign. What was it the poets and philosophers said about rain? He paused on a street corner and looked up at the sky, letting the rain pour down his face. He closed his eyes and offered up a silent prayer to the rain.
“Sir?” asked George cautiously, pausing in his trek.
Llewellyn did not answer at first. Just stood there a while. He slipped the bottle under his arm and held his palms open as if to catch the raindrops as they fell.
“Sir??” asked George, a little more concerned.
Llewellyn finally responded, reciting:
“And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, Strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:
I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,
Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form’d, altogether changed, and yet the same,
I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,
And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn,
And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin, and make pure and beautify it:
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment wandering,
Reck’d or unreck’d. Fully with love returns.)”
“Are you alright, Sir?” asked George, uncertainly. But Llewellyn was laughing.
“The rain has given me its answer, George, borrowing the words of Walt Whitman. Shall we?”
George followed him bemusedly.
* * * * * * *
“So what did your brother want?” asked Queenie as she brushed Orlaith’s golden mane. The Re’em’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the pampering.
Newt’s emotions were tightly wound. Llewellyn was nowhere to be seen when they returned to the hotel. The apologetic clerk told him in broken French that he had not seen his attaché. He was alternately wracked with guilt, worry, and the sinking suspicion that Llewellyn had finally realized that Newt was unworthy of his attention.
He appreciated having the task of feeding and caring for his animals. He took a moment to finish unloading Orlaith’s dinner of cut prairie grasses from his wheelbarrow before answering.
“He wanted me to give up on my work, which he perceives to be a total waste of time...it is unfortunately a perennial argument in the Scamander household. Nothing new, really. Only this time, he offered me a job in the British Auror Office to help track down Grindelwald.”
Queenie paused, looking at Newt carefully. Orlaith sighed and nuzzled her hand, begging her to continue.
“It bothers you that your brother doesn’t understand…”
“I’m accustomed to it, Queenie. Honestly, I’ve resigned myself to not being understood by most people. I just…”
“You’re not being selfish!”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You were thinking it.”
He approached Orlaith with a handful of the greens. Her ears perked up excitedly and she licked Newt’s face affectionately with a long neon-violet tongue.
“I never doubted that my work is important. Even though others may not see it. Orlaith, for example, she would have been dead. She very nearly was. Doesn’t she also deserve protection, love and care? There are so many aurors, plenty of people who are able to do that work. There’s pretty much no one advocating for creatures like Orlaith.”
Queenie looked at Newt with a sad smile as she watched him feed the creature a handful of grasses at a time.
“Tina’s the auror, Newt, I’m not cut out for that life, that doesn’t make me lesser or unimportant.”
“Anyone who met you, Queenie, would be an utter fool to think you unimportant or lesser than anyone .”
Queenie grinned at Newt, “Oh, Bunny. You’re too sweet for words...but you’re also absolutely, utterly oblivious. I’m trying to say...I’m not selfish for recognizing that I don’t want to be an auror. I’ve just got a different set of skills and talents, and I’m following a different path in the world.”
“Of course, as you should.”
“As you should too.”
Newt managed to shoot her a weak smile as he grabbed a second handful of grasses for Orlaith.
“Now, about Detective Watts.”
Newt felt his shoulders and neck tense. He sighed and looked away.
“I know you’re worried about him, but I doubt Grindelwald would stick around in Toronto...not with Credence gone, his cover blown, and auror forces descending on the city. I’m sure he is safe. But that’s not your only worry, is it…”
Newt pretended to be very very focused on feeding Orlaith and didn’t respond.
“Newt, please answer me. I can read it all in your mind, anyway. Heartaches are the easiest thoughts to read…”
“If you can read it all, why are you asking me about it?” he asked a bit defensively.
“Because that’s what friends do, isn’t it...talk about things.”
Newt glanced up at her. Friends. He hadn’t had friends in a while. He’d never really had friends in the plural. He looked at Queenie carefully, there was a look of sincere concern in her eyes.
Despite his worry and the nauseous feeling he felt about the entire situation, Newt also felt a warmth in his heart. He’d somehow managed to find friends. Human friends. What a revelation!
Orlaith devoured the last of the greenery in Newt’s cupped hands and sniffed him excitedly looking for more.
Queenie rolled her eyes affectionately, “What did you think we were, Newt, turnips? Of course we’re friends, you silly gooseberry. Georgie put it best - you can’t recapture a baby occamy with someone without becoming practically family.”
Newt chuckled.
“...So?” she asked, determined not to let Newt wiggle out of this one.
Newt petted Orlaith to avoid answering.
“You’ve grown fond of him, and you doubt that he feels the same way about you?” asked Queenie.
“George?” asked Newt feigning confusion.
“Don’t be intentionally obtuse, Newt, it’s unbecoming,” said Queenie, eyes narrowing, “Are you concerned that Llewellyn Watts doesn’t feel the same way about you that you do him?”
Newt sighed in frustration. “I don’t know, Queenie. I’ve never been one to understand humans. I think he likes me, but I also thought…”
“You thought he left because he doesn’t like you?” asked Queenie disbelieving.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Newt muttered.
Queenie scoffed.
“He met Theseus. How could anyone look between us and choose me…”
“NEWT!” said Queenie exasperated. “While your brother is very nice, very noble, and very handsome, he’s not even in the running in this situation! It’s pretty obvious the way the good Detective feels about you.”
“We don’t all have the benefit of reading thoughts, Queenie.”
“Newt, it doesn’t take an expert in the mind arts to see how Llewellyn feels about you. George noticed, and while he’s a very perceptive and sweet man, a legilimens he is not.”
“Then why do you think he left? Do you think it has to do with…”
Queenie scoffed, “It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it, rather than coming up with outlandish scenarios as to why he doesn’t love you. Ask him how he feels! Tell him how you feel! Tell him what he means to you. ”
Newt fell silent. Orlaith huffed in frustration and nudged Newt out of the way to make her way over to the rest of the grass.
“How do you feel about him, Newt?” asked Queenie.
Newt looked at her desperately. She raised her eyebrows.
“I really like him,” he said finally, “A lot. So much so that I’m frightened. I’m so frightened that I’ll muck this up, that he’ll wake up and see that I’m an absolute mess of a person, and run off to someone better. Someone more deserving of him....He’s utterly brilliant. He speaks a billion languages. I think he’s read every book ever written. He’s so genuine, and kind and alive...and...I feel like…” he trailed off helplessly.
He couldn’t finish the rest of his thought aloud but he had no doubt that Queenie had read the rest of it. '...half the time I feel dead to the world.' He leaned heavily against the wooden fence that marked the edge of Orlaith’s enclosure. He couldn’t quite contain the sob.
Queenie slipped next to him, bringing her arm over Newt’s shoulders and pulling him to her in a fierce hug. Newt did not resist.
She rested his head on Newt’s shoulder, and he rested his cheek against her head. She rubbed his back as he cried. Orlaith looked troubled at Newt’s outburst. She left her food, dashing over to him and headbutted his side until he chuckled weakly and began to pet her.
When he finally got his emotions under control, Newt began to speak, the story bursting from him like a torrential rainstorm.
“During the war, I was in the experimental project - the Dragon Division. I was young, strangely good with creatures, recently expelled...soft...they figured it would toughen me up, give me a chance to do something good for my country, to put my “follies” to good use. It was a catastrophic failure…”
Not quite up to repeating himself, he let himself relive those memories for Queenie’s benefit.
She gasped, utterly horrified.
“After... well ...er...the Dragon Division was disbanded, and we were ordered to hunt down and...euthanise all the dragons…They told us they were violent creatures, they were too damaged, too broken to be rehabilitated. I just couldn’t do that to them, not when it wasn’t their fault. Not when so many of us in that same situation found ourselves broken and damaged too. How could we punish the creatures for reacting the same way that many a human did to such horrors...especially when humans understand war, understand what we were fighting for...those poor creatures, they were subject to the very worst of humanity - the cruelty and violence…we caused it all - the war, the destruction, the suffering, the death…and we dragged those poor creatures out in the middle of it, when the snapped, when they no longer served their purpose, they were disposed of, like an old newspaper…”
Queenie understood what Newt couldn’t say, which was just how much he empathized with the dragons. And she suppressed a shudder at the number of young men who returned from the war with much the same internalized horrors that Newt did.
“I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t be a part of it. I snuck out and set my dragon free, I tried to set them all free...but I got caught. I was arrested. I disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer. Rather than facing disciplinary actions, however, once again, due to my family reputation, they chalked up my rash actions as a response to the trauma of seeing my commanding officer eaten by one of the creatures. I had to watch, helpless, as our dragons were hunted down and killed...I guess they thought it would help me to overcome the shell shock , the violent vindication of the loss of our commander. And when it didn’t work, when I cracked, and screamed and cried, they shipped me off to a hospital and quietly dismissed me from active service. I half expected them to put me down as well. Honestly, there was a time where I would have welcomed it.
They kept me there, thinking I was mad, depressed, suicidal, broken…until the end of the war, and then they shipped me back home and expected everything to be tickety-boo. They expected me to reintegrate with normal life, pack all that violence and trauma I witnessed away as if nothing happened. But it did happen. And I was broken. I was so broken for a long time, and I felt further away from people, from my family and friends than I ever had before…”
Queenie gave him a squeeze. She didn’t say “I’m sorry,” knowing that it wouldn’t change anything.
Instead she said, “You’re not broken, Newt - you’re healing. There’s a tremendous difference there.”
Newt snorted weakly, “But I slip. The explosion at City Hall, being arrested and interrogated, having to fight Grindelwald...even facing my brother today...it took me right back to The War again. The anxiety was back, the desperation...How could anyone love someone like me. Someone weak, broken...worthless...Someone-”
“Strong and wonderful? Someone who went through so much suffering and pain and trauma and didn’t allow it to tarnish his beautiful soul. Someone devoting his life to healing and caring for the marginalized, forgotten and unappreciated?” Queenie picked up her head and turned, taking Newt by the shoulders and forcing him to meet her eyes, “You’re not broken, Newt. Anyone who has gone through all that you’ve done and come out, not just in one piece, but as kind and compassionate and brilliant as you are is infinitely stronger than you can possibly imagine. You say you don’t understand humans, but you’ve got all the very best of humanity inside you. Anyone who doesn’t see that, is completely and utterly undeserving of you.”
“A person’s real value should be measured by the good they do. The healing they bring, the things they build rather than destroy, the compassion they show...that’s real strength,” came a voice behind them, Newt and Queenie turned and spotted Llewellyn and George, both thoroughly drenched. Llewellyn scratched his neck awkwardly then continued, “I once heard a very wise man utter those selfsame words, and by that definition, Mr. Scamander...By that definition, I think you’ll find you’re rather more valuable than gold.”
Newt looked back down at his hands, utterly humiliated to have been caught in that moment by Llewellyn.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” said Llewellyn gently.
Queenie made her way over to George and kissed his cheek. “You’re an excellent finder, George Crabtree. Though you’re soaked to the bone!” She waved her wand over George and Llewellyn and their clothes and hair instantly dried.
“I’ll take this,” she said, grabbing the bottle from Llewellyn's hand.
“It should be served chilled,” said Llewellyn awkwardly.
“Leave it to me, Bunny. We’ll have a quick drink while we wait for the rain to stop, and then, Georgie- you’ll escort me home, and I’ll make you a delicious dinner, how does that sound?”
“That sounds utterly delightful, Queenie!”
He linked arms with Queenie and they made their way back to Newt’s shed. Llewellyn looked at Newt uncertainly. Newt hesitated. Orlaith headbutted him in the back.
“Okay , you meddlesome thing,” he said.
Orlaith made a noise that sounded like a laugh.
Newt made his way over to Llewellyn awkwardly, who couldn’t help the amused look on his face.
“Hi,” said Llewellyn.
“Hello,” said Newt, tentatively, “Shall we?” he asked, nodding towards his shed. Llewellyn nodded. They started to make their way back in awkward silence.
“I-”
“Did-”
They both started at the same time, and stopped awkwardly.
“You can go ahead,” said Newt, softly.
“No, please,” said Llewellyn, gesturing for Newt to continue.
Newt blushed, utterly unsure of what to say.
“I was a little worried when I...when we saw you were gone…”
“I-” started Llewellyn, then stopped.
“You went to get wine?” asked Newt, uncertainly.
Llewellyn's shoulders slumped.
“Ultimately yes, I just...I needed some air. I’m sorry, I just-”
“I understand. It was an awkward thing to have to bear witness to.”
“NO! No, I -” Llewellyn couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Llewellyn Watts who always had something to say, who had a well of words and quotes, philosophies and witticisms at his fingertips, he was rendered utterly speechless.
Newt curled in on himself, and dropped his gaze to the floor.
“I understand. You don’t have to say anything. Was it my brother?”
“Your brother?” asked Llewellyn utterly confused, but Newt did not look up.
“Seeing the two of us together inevitably makes people draw comparisons that paint me unfavourably.”
“No! Newt, I…”
He was interrupted by the pop of a cork being removed from a bottle. George popped his head out, “Newt, where do you keep your glasses?”
“I’ll get them!” he said quickly, and darted into the shed. Llewellyn wanted to disappear. He’d been so worried about losing Newt that he’d managed to drive a wedge between them.
“Detective Watts!” came Queenie’s voice.
“Coming,” he said sadly, and made his way inside to face the music.
Newt was standing on a bench shuffling through the organised chaos that was his cabinetry. His torso halfway in a cupboard.
Newt tossed George a pack of biscuits, some saltines, and a block of cheese that looked suspiciously like they had come from Dougal’s purse. Then, he finally emerged with four mismatched champagne flutes.
He handed them off to George who passed them to Llewellyn to pour the Moscato.
“I do hope it’s to your taste,” said Llewellyn shyly as he handed the glasses out to them, “I know it’s not quite Ruinart, but it’s sweet and lovely and…” he paused awkwardly noticing Newt’s closed expression.
Llewellyn felt his heart break. It had been going so well. How cruel could the universe be, to bring someone like Newt Scamander to his life and then for him to fudge it all up for them both. The pain was so sharp he could barely breathe.
“Newt, was this you?!” asked Queenie abruptly.
Newt glanced at Queenie and froze. She was holding a framed photograph in her hand.
“Erm, yes, that was...that was 5th year at school.”
“You were so cute! And was this Leta?”
New shot her a pleading look, and though furiously Please stop.
Queenie paid him no mind. She looked at him expectantly, then said “Leta Lestrange…that was some friendship you had.”
Newt closed his eyes, frustrated, “I asked you to please stop reading my thoughts.”
“And I told you, I’m sorry, Bunny, but it comes naturally. What happened between the two of you?”
Newt looked at her utterly disbelieving. Why was she doing this?
“Leta Lestrange was my friend. We were at school together. I was kicked out. She’s engaged to my brother.”
“You were expelled because of her .”
Newt started at her, willing her to stop.
“That must have hurt,” said Queenie, “You seemed particularly troubled when you found out about Grindelwald’s expulsion…you glanced at Leta...what happened Newt, how did you get expelled?”
Newt wished the floor would swallow him up.
“I wasn’t officially expelled. I was sent home, but I was permitted to finish my coursework at home.”
“...You took the blame.” said Queenie, looking at him carefully.
“I don’t understand, what blame?” asked George, “What happened, Newt?”
Newt looked around himself desperately, trying very hard not to look at Llewellyn. He signed, and looked back down at the glass in his hands. He began to speak to it.
“George, when I said that people tend to find me annoying I wasn’t exaggerating...Leta was my friend. My only friend at school. I mean, my housemates were kind enough, my teammates tolerated me, but no one really went out of their way to spend time with me, to talk to me. No one except Leta.”
He sighed, miles away.
“She had a very difficult life, you see. Leta’s father was a brute of a man. He was a practitioner of the dark arts...vile, violent and abusive. Her mother died in childbirth. Leta grew up abused, treated as a servant in her own home, longing for the day she could escape them and go to school - to be free, and make her own way in the world...but when she got to Hogwarts, she found she could never truly escape her past. Despite hating her father and everything he stood for, she was instantly shunned by almost everyone at school because of her heritage. She was an outcast. It was early on in our schooling that we formed an unlikely friendship...the daughter of a dark wizard and the son of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. But we weren’t that different...two social outcasts, studious, awkward and shy... interested in magical creatures. For a while it was nice.” He smiled sadly.
“But whereas my housemates tolerated me, everyone hated Leta. There was this group of girls who were particularly horrid to her. They bullied her constantly…it was terrible.” Llewellyn looked at Newt carefully. The story felt all too familiar to him, he could see it happening before his eyes, Newt in his shoes, Leta in his brothers’, and he was afraid he knew where it was going next.
“One day, in our 7th year, I found a jarvey in the forest near our school. It’s a magical beast that looks a bit like a ferret. It’s not a particularly vicious creature...it’s got a XXX rating - any competent witch or wizard should have no trouble with them...but they’re foul tempered. They can mimic human speech and tend to say very rude things. Very juvenile. This particular jarvey was severely injured... I was never able to determine how exactly. But like any creature that’s subject to trauma and violence, it was rather aggressive. We kept him in an unused classroom where I nursed him slowly back to health...The number of bites and scratches I received off him....I actually ended up in the hospital wing once, he bit my hand to the bone. I told the nurse I had taken up woodworking. With my clumsiness, she believed me. Anyway, I named him Jeeves. He was particularly good at rude limericks.” Newt, bless him, still managed a wry smile as he thought of his friend Jeeves, despite the painful memory.
“One day, the group of girls chased Leta to Jeeves’s classroom. I don’t think Leta fully thought it through - she certainly never intended anyone to get hurt, she doesn’t have a violent bone in her body. But Leta set Jeeves loose on the girls. She only wanted to scare them off, to show them they weren’t as tough as they seemed...she thought he’d shout some rude words and limericks, maybe claw at them a bit....But Jeeves was overwhelmed and he reacted with real aggression...he nearly ripped out a girl’s throat. She was the daughter of one of the undersecretaries to the Minister for Magic...she had to be rushed to St. Mungos - the wizarding hospital. She survived, but it was incredibly gruesome.”
Newt looked down at his hands. “It didn’t take a genius to figure out what would happen next... Leta, the unpopular daughter of a dark wizard - they accused her of planning the attack - an attempt at murder, using a vicious creature to kill the daughter of a Ministry Official in a school full of children. At best she would have been sent to Azkaban without a second though. At worst, they’d have executed her as a dark witch and attempted murderer. Her life would have been forfeit either way for one foolish mistake.”
“Azkaban?” asked George.
“Wizarding prison. Except, it’s not like muggle jail. It’s a horrible fortress on an unplottable island in the North Sea - it is guarded by dementors, wraith-like entities...they feed on the emotions and memories of the prisoners, leaving them nothing more than empty shells. Six months in Azkaban and most prisoners go completely mad. Most don’t survive more than a handful of years. I couldn’t leave my friend to that fate. I couldn’t let it happen. There was only one way it could go... I’m the son of a respectable wizarding family. My father was the most respected auror in Wizarding Britain, and even after his death in the line of duty, his reputation carried tremendous weight. My brother was also making a name for himself, rapidly rising in the ranks, following in his footsteps...And then there’s me...awkward, bumbling, foolish, soft. I was well-known even then for my reckless fascination with magical creatures, with, as you put it George, “A very different threshold for docile,” He shot George a smile. “I could easily take the blame, say it was an accident...that I was out of my depth that I didn’t think Jeeves would react that way...it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination. The worst they’d do to expel me. In the end, fortunately, I wasn’t.”
They all stared at Newt open-mouthed.
“As you can imagine, the incident became the proverbial erumpent in the room...it put a damper on our friendship. Leta was plagued with guilt. I made my choices willingly and would do it again to save her life, but I was sent to war, and I came back... affected . We drifted apart. She, to Theseus, and me...eventually...to my adventures.” He glanced at Queenie
“Does that answer your question, Queenie?”
“Bunny, when we first met, I told you you were better off. She’s a taker.”
“And I’m...what...a chaser?”
Queenie snorted in an unsurprisingly unladylike manner, “You’re a nurturer. Incredibly kind and idiotically noble. You need someone who understands and appreciates you, exactly as you are.”
“Idiotically?” said Newt looking up at her, a little hurt.
“I say that with all the affection and respect of an annoying little sister,” said Queenie with a grin. “Detective Watts could debate with you on the ambiguities of ethics and relativity of right and wrong... I think you did something idiotically noble. You threw your life away to save hers…”
“I hardly threw my life away, Queenie. I had no intentions of becoming a ministry official…”
“Or an auror,” said Queenie with a grin.
“Or an auror,” he added, “I didn’t really have anything to lose. A nonexistent reputation?”
He looked back down at his drink, “It doesn’t bother me, you know.” He addressed him comment to Queenie, but spoke to Llewellyn in his heart. “It did at first, losing Leta. But I’m glad for them both - Theseus is right for her. I could never make Leta happy. She’s ambitious. She wants greatness…”
“You sell yourself short, Newt Scamander,” said Llewellyn, “Most people don’t manage a fraction of what you’ve done in an entire lifetime.
Newt blushed.
Llewellyn looked as if he wanted to say more, but thought better of it, and stared into his champagne glass instead.
Queenie looked between them and rolled her eyes. Then she downed the last of her Moscato and nudged George.
“I just remembered, I’ve got an umbrella!” she said, waving her wand. A bright pink umbrella appeared in midair. “Shall we leave these two to talk?”
“Ooh, yes, and have that dinner you promised me?” asked George with a flirtatious grin.
Queenie laughed.
“See you later, boys,” she called over her shoulder to Newt who had folded his arms around his torso, looking awkward, and Llewellyn, who stood with his head cocked to the side.
Neither of them moved as Queenie and George made their way out. The awkward silence stretched between them.
“Every time I emerge from an interaction with Queenie Goldstein, I feel like I’ve been expertly manipulated, which is incredibly frustrating, because I don’t know whether to hate her or thank her,” said Llewellyn philosophically. He glanced at Newt, who snorted.
They fell silent again. Newt looked at him rather desperately as the silence stretched awkwardly.
“Llewellyn, I promise, if there ever was a chance of anything happening between Leta and me, that ship sailed ages ago…” he finally burst out.
“I never...you don’t have to explain for me,” said Llewellyn softly.
He met Newt’s eyes shyly.
“And to answer your earlier comment, while Theseus may be impressive, he is certainly not my favourite Scamander.”
“Oh?”
“I find you significantly more impressive.”
“Oh.”
“Significantly more so.”
Watt’s heart skipped a beat as he looked into Newt’s eyes.
“I don’t understand,” said Newt softly.
“I’m...well, I’m a bit of a coward, I suppose...I’m not good with matters like this. As George will tell you, it’s perhaps the one place where I’m completely and utterly an irrational fool. It’s selfish, because your work is so important, and I don’t want to hold you back, but...when you told your brother that you’d be leaving, I couldn't...I...I...I…I don’t want to lose you.”
He took a step towards Newt, who was looking at him intensely.
Newt closed the distance between them and pulled him into an embrace.
“You don't...I thought...I thought…” said Newt softly, willing himself not to cry.
Llewellyn held him even tighter.
“I’m not leaving just yet,” said Newt. Something clicked in his head...here was his chance to say it...what he couldn’t say to Leta all those years ago. He grew serious, and pulled away from Llewellyn's embrace. He met his eyes urgently. “And when I do leave Toronto, I’m not leaving you . Not really. Not permanently. I don't want to...I don't want to lose you."
"Really?" said Llewellyn hopefully.
"Really!" said Newt urgently.
Llewellyn leaned back against Newt's bookshelf, knocking half a dozen jars to the floor with his elbow. He blushed furiously.
"I'm so sorry!"
Newt chuckled weakly. "It's not a problem."
He waved his wand, and the jars repaired themselves and floated back to their place on the shelf.
"The think is, I've...I've grown very fond of...adventuring with you..." Llewellyn met Newt's eyes, "...very fond....of adventuring and you."
Newt felt his heart stop, and his breath catch in his chest.
"You could...you could...come with me."
Llewellyn's face fell. He swallowed hard, looked at the floor and rubbed at the back of his head with his hand.
"I can't leave Toronto, Newt. My work is here. I..."
"...Or, We can figure it out!" continued Newt quickly, desperately. "I’ll get us two-way mirrors to talk, and with magic, we should be able to visit from time to time. And it’s only a year.”
Llewellyn nodded. “It’s only a year,” said Llewellyn trying to reassure himself. He rested his head against Newt's shoulder, “I’ll wait for you...it is only a year."
“Twelve months.”
“365 days.”
“8,760 hours.”
“Only half as long as one of Murdoch’s explanations about batteries,” said Llewellyn thoughtfully.
They both dissolved into giggles.
“We’ll figure it out,” said Newt seriously, “I want to figure it out.”
Llewellyn nodded, and smiled at him. They paused a moment, just relishing a moment spent together. Llewellyn leaned in for a kiss. Newt eagerly complied.
They were interrupted by a shrill alarm going off on Newt’s desk.
Newt sighed, “I’ve got to change the kelpie’s bandages.”
“We’re always interrupted at the most inopportune moments.” Llewellyn kissed him one more time.
“Luckily this time we’re not running off to risk our lives and save Toronto…”
Llewellyn laughed, “Thank goodness for small mercies...though I suppose it depends largely on your success with the kelpie and what secret machinations of world domination he may be toying with. Go ahead, I’ll wait for you.”
Newt grinned and kissed him again before going to tend to the kelpie. Llewellyn watched him as he left, then he occupied himself with observing his surroundings.
Newt’s blue jacket had been left on the back of one of the chairs. Llewellyn ran his hand across it, and fussed with the collar. The tweed material was a comforting roughness under his fingertips. He made his way around Newt’s space, brushing his fingers against this and that, admiring the love that Newt put into his work. His attention was caught by a crate filled with folders carefully labelled and arranged in alphabetical order. Absently he pulled out one to find a careful illustration drawn by Newt in ink and watercolour.
Good Lord, he’s so talented.
He flipped through to find Newt’s careful notes about the care the creature required, where and how he found it. He slipped it back into its place grinning to himself.
He made his way into Newt’s sanctuary, past the bowtruckle enclave. He meandered through the cavernous space, and caught a sight of Newt, who was cutting down bandages to size with a pair of scissors. His tongue poked out of his mouth as he concentrated on his work. Llewellyn watched him for a moment, each of his gestures filled with so much love. How could anyone not love Newt?
* * * * * * *
Newt finished washing his hands after changing the dressings on the Kelpie’s wounds, and made his way back to see where Llewellyn had gone.
He found him lying in the grass in the empty, sunny enclosure. His arms folded behind his dark curly dark hair. His eyes were closed. He was basking in the sunshine. New smiled as he approached. He had never seen Llewellyn look so incredibly serene. He wasn’t sure if Llewellyn had noticed him, but Llewellyn must have, for he began to speak without opening his eyes.
“It’s incredible, you know - your work. I’m lying in a grassy field in the sunshine, inside of a suitcase which is currently sitting on a table in a hotel room in Toronto. Outside it’s dark and raining; here, it’s a glorious day. Incredible! I was watching the clouds pass - and you...you created them all - every blade of grass, every grain of sand, you’re like a god here…”
Newt chuckled softly to himself. “I’m not....It doesn’t quite work that way - Gamp’s Laws of Elemental Transfiguration - one can’t make something out of nothing, things can be summoned from other places, transformed from something else, multiplied or changed in size , but anything conjured from nothing is merely an illusion, it dissipates as soon as the charm wears off. And there are limits to what I can do - food for example, food cannot be made out of nothing, creatures have to eat real grass. I summoned it from their natural habitats and then multiplied it…” he trailed off glancing at Llewellyn expecting him to have grown bored of his explanations, but Llewellyn was staring fixedly at him, a smile playing on his face.
“Well then, pull up some grass and lie down,” he said, tapping the ground beside him. Newt smiled and sprawled out on the grass beside him. The grass was soft and the ground warm beneath him.
“You really are a genius, you know,” said Llewellyn, his voice warm and full of admiration. Newt blushed and ducked his head, mumbling something that sounded like, “Pot - Kettle.” Llewellyn gently bumped his cheek to Newt’s shoulder, and allowed his head to rest in the crook of Newt’s neck.
En mi cielo al crepúsculo eres como una nube
y tu color y forma son como yo los quiero.
Pointing up, Llewellyn asked, “And the clouds? What does Gamp have to say about clouds?”
Newt smiled. “You know, at Hogwarts - my school - the ceiling of the dining hall is bewitched to look like the sky outside. It was one of my favourite things...it was like eating outdoors - we’d have our meals in the sunshine, by starlight, sometimes under violent stormy clouds. When it’d rain or snow the precipitation would tumble down from the cloudy ceiling, to vanish a few feet above our heads. It was truly magnificent. When I first began creating habitats for the creatures, I couldn’t imagine them looking up and seeing only the inside of my case. I wanted them to feel free. To be reminded of home.”
Llewellyn smiled.
After a beat, Newt continued, “This particular patch of sky is in New Zealand.”
“New Zealand? Why?”
Newt took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering. Llewellyn allowed the companionable silence to stretch, relishing in just being in Newt’s presence, feeling the brush of Newt’s shirt collar against his cheek as it moved with Newt’s breath.
“My professor, Albus Dumbledore...he really saved me. I was able to get the advance on my book to quit my job, to start my research...all because of him. I’m afraid of what would have happened to me otherwise. I was slowly dying inside, in my job, in my own mind. Perhaps I would have faded away into nothingness.”
He fell silent again for a moment.
“When I left London, I took the first international portkey out that I could. I ended up in Wellington. I had no real plan, but for the first time in my life, I felt unfettered. Like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I could walk in the sunshine with money and a dream in my pocket. I stayed in Wellington a few days, as I decided what to do next...My plan was to travel up to Asia, first Southeast Asia, west to the Middle East, then northeast into the Himalayas and China, then to Japan and Korea, back through Oceania and from thence on to Egypt and through Africa. In Wellington, serendipitously, I happened upon an Antipodean Opaleye.” Newt paused at Llewellyn's puzzled expression. Newt found his furrowed brow absolutely adorable, like a confused Crup puppy. Newt pecked a quick kiss on his nose with a mischievous smirk. “It’s a type of dragon…one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen - its scales are pearly, and its eyes are-”
“Like opals?” asked Llewellyn with a smirk.
“Yes, iridescent, resplendent with all the colours of the rainbow. No pupils, just a vast expanse of colour! She was breathtaking. They’re fascinating...unlike most other dragons they prefer to settle in glens and valleys rather than mountain tops. They’re very gentle, majestic creatures.”
Llewellyn raised his eyes “Gentle ?”
“They only eat sheep.”
Llewellyn hummed.
"Well, they’re incredibly gentle, as far as dragons go, though you can’t exactly have a dragon roaming around a major city.”
“I can imagine,” said Llewellyn with a chuckle.
“I caught her before animal control could...well...you know. They’re incredibly rare - endangered. Hunted for their beautiful skin. The wizarding world doesn’t really have protective laws in place for animals.”
“I suppose they’re of the “kill it” school of philosophy.”
Newt nodded. His hair tickled Watt’s cheek.
“I made this habitat for her, settled her in, and then hiked up the Akatarawa Valley to release her into the valleys of the Tararua Range. In that short time, she became my friend. It was tough to say goodbye.”
“What did you name her?”
“What makes you think I-” Newt’s feeble protests died at Llewellyn's smirk.
“Maggie.”
Llewellyn hummed. “Maggie...For Pearl? Clever,” he said with a laugh.
Newt laughed too.
“It was poetic in a way - bookending the darkest chapter of my life with dragons, the death of some, the saving of another... I didn’t have the heart to get rid of this enclosure afterwards - it’s proven useful in a pinch to house any number of creatures until I can establish a more comfortable space for them. It also cheers me right up any time I feel a touch of ennui.”
They fell into silence again watching the fluffy clouds roll by.
“Isn’t it winter in New Zealand?” asked Llewellyn suddenly.
“Yes,” said Newt with a smile, “Climate control charms...incredibly useful.”
Llewellyn kissed him then, pinning him to the ground and devouring his lips with his own. Newt cradled him into an embrace, as he kissed him back. They broke apart only when the need for oxygen grew too strong.
Llewellyn slipped back down, rolling onto his stomach. He rested his right elbow on the ground, cradling his head in his hand, he allowed his fingers to trail through the grass, near Newt’s neck, pensive.
“I never imagined being in the sunshine like this - together, I mean - to just be. Steal kisses. Like normal sweethearts.”
“We’re sweethearts,” said Newt, as if only just noticing it. He couldn’t contain his grin.
“Aren’t we?” asked Llewellyn cautiously.
Newt kissed him again in reply.
When they broke apart again, Newt was pensive...“You said “normal sweethearts.” Are we not normal?”
Llewellyn chucked, “We’re rather far from normal, Newt, I should think. Even our dearest acquaintances think us a bit...well...odd.” He grew a little sad. “Though that’s not quite what I mean…”
Newt asked quietly, “You mean because we’re both male?”
Llewellyn nodded.
Newt looked up at the clouds pensively, “I never understood why people have such an issue with homosexuality or bisexuality - it’s actually quite common in the wild. Only humans seem to have such hang-ups. No other species seems to care. Graphorns and Plimpies don’t sit around all day thinking up legislation that mandates who they are permitted to love. It’s perhaps the one way in which the magical world is more socially progressive than the Muggle - most don’t have issue with same-sex partnerships...they’re usually more concerned with social class...and for some so-called blood purity...so I suppose perhaps we’re not that progressive after all.”
He turned to look at Llewellyn. Llewellyn was looking down at the grass, still pensive.
“Besides,” continued Newt, “I’d like to think that we fall in love with a person , not their genitals.”
Llewellyn huffed a laugh. Newt smiled, then grew serious.
“Not that I’m terribly experienced in matters of the heart,” said Newt softly, “I’ve only ever really loved one person before, and she’s marrying my brother.”
Llewellyn looked at Newt carefully, “Do you regret that?”
Newt responded, “I did once, but, honestly, no, not anymore. Thinking on it, they’re much better matched.”
He paused again, this time, not quite meeting Llewellyn's eyes.
“Besides, I’ve met someone new, someone brilliant, and kind, someone who thinks I’m a genius...and a god…” he shot Llewellyn a crooked smile.
Llewellyn chuckled.
“Someone who understands me as no one else has ever before...not even Leta, certainly not my own family. I’m rather sweet on him.”
Llewellyn blushed again, and returned to staring at the grass. Newt felt his heart speed up and leap to his throat. Did Llewellyn regret this? Was he repulsed by them? By their relationship? He couldn’t bear the thought of rejection, not from Llewellyn, not now. He worked up the courage to ask what needed to be asked.
“Does it bother you?” asked Newt softly, readying himself for his heart to inevitably shatter.
“Your history with Leta? Why would that bother me? We didn’t even know each other...”
“No, I mean...what we...because we’re both male...are you ashamed of us...of me...of being with me?”
Llewellyn looked up sharply.
“Not of you, never of you!” He swallowed hard. “It’s difficult, because all my life I’ve lived in a society that believes love between two men...is sinful. It’s difficult for me because I know we can’t be free and open...we can’t lie like this on the grass in the park on a summer’s day together. We can’t get married, or have a life together, share a home, share a family. We can’t even tell our friends.”
“I don’t think our friends would mind...Queenie and George certainly don’t…”
“Queenie and George are also not...they’re also rather far from normal,” said Llewellyn with a sad smile, “If knowledge of our relationship were to get out, Newt, it would destroy us. The Criminal Code would make us subject to psychological evaluation, corporal punishment, and at least five years’ imprisonment for engaging in acts of gross indecency with another man. My career would be ruined, and we’d be labeled as sexual deviants for life.”
Newt stayed perfectly still and totally quiet.
Llewellynfinally continued, “It doesn’t change things for me, it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. In the words of a very wise man, ‘Some things in life are worth the risk .’” he gently took Newt’s hand.
“Who said that?” asked Newt curiously, giving Llewellyn hand a squeeze.
“George Crabtree,” said Llewellyn with a grin. Newt chuckled.
Llewellyn did as well, he met Newt’s eyes, and marveled at how they glistened in the sunlight, like the surface of the sea.
“What affects me the most is the injustice of it, that people should be made to feel ashamed for love. That others could be so cruel.”
Newt shifted closer to Llewellyn and gave his hand another squeeze.
“Humans are...difficult creatures. The most difficult I’ve encountered, and the most dangerous. They can be incredibly cruel sometimes.”
Llewellyn snorted, “You speak as if you’re not one.”
Newt said very seriously, “Half the time I don’t feel like one, the other half of the time, I’m made to feel like I’m not one…” his eyes grew sad, “I’ve seen it time and time again, humans can be unspeakably cruel.”
Llewellyn thought of his adoptive brothers and laughed bitterly, “Truer words have never been spoken.”
Newt was quiet a moment, then said, “But that’s what makes things like good, wise, interfering and manipulative friends...and happy moments, and…” he paused, glancing into Watt’s dark eyes, “love...all the more valuable.”
Llewellyn swallowed, and looked up at the clouds, but gripped Newt’s hand tightly in his own. “You know, I’ve never felt this way about...well...anyone before in my life.”
Newt looked up at him carefully, “Really?”
Llewellyn sighed, “My life has not been the brightest and happiest of stories...It’s punctuated by loss and loneliness…first my parents’ death, then my sister’s disappearance...and I...I never fit in anywhere...I was always ridiculed for how I walk, how I talk, how I think and act...the things I say. It’s...it’s been hard...to connect to people. I’ve found...friends here in Stationhouse Four, comrades of sorts. Perhaps they don’t quite understand me, sometimes they get frustrated with me, but they treat me as a person...they tolerate me. George in particular is a gem… But in spite of all that, I feel like I’ve gone through life utterly invisible. It’s worked in my favour sometimes, to slip unnoticed, but it’s been incredibly lonely. I’ve never felt understood and accepted, never felt a kinship or true human connection...I’ve never felt seen , if that makes any sense? Not until I’ve met you.”
Newt normally had difficulty maintaining eye contact, a trait he shared with the Detective, but at that moment, nothing could possibly make him look away. He felt like he was looking directly into Llewellyn’s soul, and felt Llewellyn looking back at him. In that moment, they were vulnerable and powerful, knowing that at any time, one could destroy the other with a word, yet trusting the other not to.
Was this what love was?
“I’ve felt attraction before, but I never understood it all, never could grasp humanity’s obsession with romance and intimacy, for me it was just another sensation, not even remotely as strong as hunger or thirst, or the excitement over a new book or a glass of wine. But with you, it’s so different. I’ve emerged from Plato’s cave to see the stars, the moon and the sun.”
He grinned at Newt mischievously, “And the grass, and the sand, and the sky and the clouds...especially the sky and the clouds,” he glanced upwards, “...and the bowtruckles, and the demiguises, and the-”
Newt silenced him with a kiss. Llewellyn kissed him back desperately, his grip on Newt’s arm and the back of his neck tighter than what was necessary, but Newt understood. It was the same thing he was feeling, the needed reassurance that Llewellyn was there, wanted to be there, and would continue to be there.
When they broke apart, Llewellyn continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “...and the leucrottas, and the kelpies, and the-”
Newt laughed.
Llewellyn paused again, smiling at Newt’s glee. He allowed himself to get lost a moment in Newt’s eyes, this evening, in the New Zealand sunshine, they were the colour of a tropical sea.
“...the everything,” he finished thoughtfully.
Still smiling, Llewellyn looked at Newt intently, “It’s all so clear to me, you know. I think…I think I love you Newt.”
Newt looked at him carefully. He took in Llewellyn’s flushed face, his twinkling eyes, his vulnerable smile. Newt’s heart skipped a beat.
“I love you too,” he whispered, barely trusting himself to say the words out loud, for fear that he would break the brilliant, impossible, beautiful dream.
“Really?” said Llewellyn shyly.
“Really,” said Newt sincerely.
Llewellyn cradled Newt’s face in his hand, as if disbelieving him to be real. Newt pulled at Llewellyn's tie, drawing him close.
“I love you Llewellyn Watts,” he said gently.
Llewellyn kissed him again, more gently this time. Newt sighed into the kiss, and he ran his fingers through Llewellyn’s dark curls. He rested his forehead against Llewellyn’s as he caught his breath, glancing into his dark eyes. He smiled at Newt before trailing searing kisses along Newt’s jaw, the roughness of his stubble tickled Newt. Newt leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek against Llewellyn’s, then kissed his nose with a grin. Llewellyn blinked and chuckled. He ran his fingers along the neckline of Newt’s waistcoat to the back of his neck. He adored the goldenrod colour. It was so Newt.
He returned his lips to Newt’s as his fingertips gently caressed Newt’s neck.
Newt sighed, and Llewellyn grinned into Newt’s mouth, chucking slightly. Newt pulled away slowly. Llewellyn admired Newt’s flushed cheeks, and felt a deep sense of satisfaction in knowing he was the cause
He kissed him again and they lost themselves in each other’s touch.
The first rays of sunlight woke them. At some point in the night, they had made their way to lie intertwined on Newt’s cot.
Consciousness returned slowly. Newt was aware of Llewellyn’s arm slung over his chest, the skin healed and unblemished. He felt the steady beats of their hearts, the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they breathed, and the warmth of their tangle of legs and arms.
He snuggled closer to Llewellyn, unwilling to rise just yet. It all had felt like a dream, and if it had been, Newt wasn't quite ready for it to end. Llewellyn opened one eyelid, his dark eye sought Newt’s and his face split into a brilliant grin. He closed his eyes again and nuzzled Newt’s cheek with his own. Newt felt his heart swell; he’d grown to love Llewellyn’s smile in their short acquaintance. It was as radiant as the sun, and warmed Newt to the core, like the first sip of warm butterbeer on a frosty winter’s day.
“‘Morning,” said Llewellyn, his voice still heavy with sleep. His breath tickled Newt’s ear making him grin shyly.
“Good morning," said Newt softly.
“Better than good,” replied Llewellyn with a crooked grin, “Arguably the best morning I’ve had in my life.” Newt blushed, and chuckled, then stole a quick peck on Llewellyn’s cheek.
They stayed there together for a few more moments, relishing the other’s presence.
“To think, we had a luxurious bed with silk sheets and feather pillows just outside my case, and we spent the night on this rickety cot.”
Llewellyn laughed.
“I wonder what time it is,” said Llewellyn. Newt reached his arm up and pulled an alarm clock from his desk. “It's just six,” he replied softly.
Llewellyn’s face fell. “I suppose I should be getting ready...though I'm loathe to.”
“What time do you start at work?” Asked Newt.
“Eight.”
“You could stay a bit longer.”
Llewellyn met Newt’s eyes, eyebrows raised. Newt blushed, the ghost of a mischievous grin on his lips.
Llewellyn chuckled sitting up slowly, the cot groaning in protest as he shifted his weight. “Then I'd certainly be late.” He reached for his trousers.
Newt sat up as well, pulling the sheet to his lap. He looked away, ashamed and suddenly shy again. Llewellyn understood. He understood the uncertainty and vulnerability, that after a lifetime of feeling very much alone and unloved in a cold and unfeeling world, just how crushing and ever-present the fear of rejection could be.
He felt his heart break. He knew his words would be clumsy, reassurances would sound empty, yet he wanted in the depths of his heart for Newt to understand. Llewellyn reached out, cupping Newt’s cheek in his hand, gently caressing his lips with his thumb. Newt met his eyes cautiously. Llewellyn leaned forward and kissed him. He put it all into his kiss - he tried to convey his reassurances, his own self doubts and fears he carried but also his hope for the connection they shared, his admiration for the loveable man, and his desire to continue to explore this new love.
“I love you, Newt Scamander ,” he said as he pulled out of their kiss. Newt’s dazzling smile was like the sun bursting through storm clouds...it could have powered the electric lights in all of Toronto, and the sheer joy it caused in Llewellyn hit his chest like a rampaging leucrotta. He couldn't help but grin back.
“I’ll see you later?” Llewellyn asked shyly, offering Newt the power to decide. He realized his heart would live or die by Newt’s response - it was exhilarating.
“Later, then Llewellyn.” He grinned slyly then kissed him again. “I will hold you to your word.”
“I should hope so,” replied Llewellyn with a wink. Then he stood and finished dressing.
“How about we meet for lunch? I know just the place! Do you like Chinese food? ”
Newt smiled.
He looked forward to a lifetime of waking up besides, sharing meals with, and loving Llewellyn Watts. It certainly wouldn't be easy, but they would figure it out.
* * * * * * *