fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme | Prompt Post #2

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Prompt Post #2

ROUND 2

Seeing as we've reached 4,000 comments in Round 1, it's time to make a new one. Same (lack of) rules apply. Gentle reminder to everyone to refrain from posting extremely long prompts, though. While no word limit will be imposed, take note that it is very unlikely for someone to fulfill your prompt if your prompt alone is already several paragraphs long and containing a number of specifications.

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-(01/14/2016) We now have a TRADING POST where you can exchange fills with people.
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Credence is Newt's child.

Ok, but listen.

Let's say Credence is younger, 12-14ish and Newt is older 30ish. During the war we know Newt was involved so maybe he met someone or things went wrong and he was forced. Either way he found himself with a tiny baby boy he loved utterly. But muggles caught up with them right after the birth and things went badly, they tried to kill them all and Newt woke up alone, the healers told him his baby was dead since they couldn't see it surviving and didn't want Newt running around looking half dead himself with danger everywhere.

Fast forward and during some visit to a remote village that respects creatures or maybe even some powerful creature itself, reveals that his son is alive.

Newt didn't come to New York to release Frank, he came to find his son.

Happy ending with Credence saved and loved.

Would be ok with a Newt/Graves pairing, Credence getting a happy family. Maybe even Graves was in the war and is Credences father.

Since the war Newt had managed to find a great deal of success in caring for creatures in need. He had traveled the world, and found all kinds of fantastic animals, some of which were unstudied by wizard kind. He'd been given a book contract, and he had reams and reams of paper full of information. He might have left school, and found himself alone, but he had moved on, and he had done well. He had found a life for himself.

That was what he told himself when it all got too much, and he curled up in the case placed in the branches of whichever tree he was sheltering in that night. He had done well. He had found a meaningful life. He was alone. But he was alive.

It was only in his dreams that he found himself pulled back to the cell he had spent months locked in, the memory of the soft voice through the bars, the man whose name and face he could never remember thanks to the charms on their prison. The flash of green light which had robbed him of that stranger. The other side, the day when he had lost everything, was one he rarely even dreamed of. The baby that had been ripped from him, when he had been left for dead. And then the healers squeezing his shoulder, telling him that they were sorry.

He fought back tears as memories overtook him, and Pickett clambered up onto his shoulder, nuzzling against his ear. It helped.
"Hey..." He murmured sleepily to the bowtruckle. "You come to look after me have you?"
Pickett squeaked out a response, and Newt smiled up at him.
"You're good at looking after me." He murmured, and he meant every word of it. Pickett, and Dougal, and all the rest of the creatures gave him a reason to live.

Dougal chittered loudly, walking over holding an envelope. Newt paused, and reached out for it.
"Looks like we've got a new adventure!" He enthused, and the creatures that were listening seemed to celebrate. "Now, let me see, who is writing to me?"

He opened the letter and found a note inside which was written in a strange hand. He could read it, but the formation of the letters seemed different somehow. As he looked over the words, he suddenly realised why.
"We hear from the centaurs in the North of your country that you are skilled with creatures. We are faced with a problem that has killed several of our foals. If you help us, we will answer one question." After that, there was an address.

"Looks like I'm being summoned..." Newt said, then turned to his creatures. "Who fancies a trip to Spain?"
There was no response, until the niffler ran past carrying a button. This once, Newt allowed him his stolen treasure.
"My decision then..." He paused. "I've never worked with centaurs before. I say we go." Newt spent a few hours researching centaur etiquette, ensuring that he wasn't going to offend his hosts too greatly within the first hour or so of his arrival. Then he headed to the address that they had given, using portkeys to arrive within the right country, and then using a number of different methods to get to his destination.

He rented a broomstick for the last few miles, and it got him to the forest within a couple of hours. He landed perfectly, shrunk and pocketed his broom, and found himself coming face to face with an arrow. He nodded his head.
"My name is Newt Scamander, and I was summoned here. If I may reach into my pocket, I can show you proof."
The female centaur that was holding the bow nodded, and he pulled out the letter. After a moment she relaxed, sliding the stone-tipped arrow back into its quiver and looking down at him.
"Come with me."

Newt nodded, following close behind as she made her way deeper into the forest. He didn't know where he was, not with any certainty, but he allowed himself to be led. They ended up in a large clearing, where several older centaurs stood side by side. Newt bowed politely to them.
"My name is Newt Scamander, and I was summoned here."
"My name is Icarus." The oldest centaur said, as he stepped forwards. His once black coat was speckled with grey. "We heard from the centaurs of your own nation that you were a stranger amongst humans. One that might be able to assist with our problem."

"What is your problem?" Newt asked, prompting as gently and respectfully as he could.
"Our children are being attacked. There is an acromantula nest in the forest, and we have lived alongside them for years. But now several of their number are falling sick, and they are taking their revenge by killing our foals. There have been three deaths so far, and the foals have been confined to deep within our territory, but we need an end to their sickness so that they cease their attacks. Are you willing to assist us?"

"I will." Newt said quickly. "If I can."
"Then our warriors will guide you. Leona, Mattias, accompany this man into the acromantula territory, and do what you can to prevent him being eaten. He is our children's best hope." With that, the oldest centaurs turned and walked away, leaving Newt alone with the younger two who were to be his guards.

"Thank you for your assistance." He said to them, as politely as he could manage, not wanting them to feel he didn't appreciate all it was that they were doing. They didn't respond, but led him back through the trees, until he found a few strands of webbing from the nearest branches.
"We grow close." Mattias said, shifting his weight. "Do not let them see your fear."
"I'm not afraid." Newt answered honestly. He saw a shadow moving, and picked out the shape of the lead acromantula in the trees. It was a gigantic beast, one that was worthy of great respect.

He bowed down, and looked up at the creature.
"Hello. My name is Newt. I believe I may be able to help with the illness that afflicts you. I mean you no harm."

For a tense few seconds, nothing happened, and then the gigantic spider advanced a few steps towards them, and inclined her head.
"I am infected in my first left leg. If you can heal that, we will consider allowing you and your companions to leave."
"Thank you." Newt answered, and went to examine the creature. He could hear her jaws clicking and was painfully aware of just how easily this could go wrong and lead to his death.

There was some kind of fungus growing through the top joint of her leg, thin blue and white strands wrapped around each other, and as he examined the exoskeleton there he could see that it was think.
"How long has this been happening?"
"It became worse as the ice melted. That's when we were driven to ask those around us for help." The acromantula explained. Newt nodded.
"I suspect that the spores have somehow got into your burrow. Really, you need to either destroy the old burrow or burn it. That should stop new infections. For these, I believe I can formulate some ointment which might help a little, but I'm not able to give you any promises."

For a few moments, the spider didn't respond, and then she nodded.
"As you wish. You return with the ointment before tomorrow morning."

Newt considered protesting about the time constraints that were being placed upon him, but he hoped he would be able to complete the task. He climbed back into his suitcase having thanked the creatures, and one of the centaurs brought him back to the clearing. Newt worked all night, emerging in the morning with a potion that would help the acromantula recover from the illness which had stricken them. He explained the administration of the medicine, and was escorted back.

"What do you wish to ask for?" Icarus asked as he walked forwards. "Do you wish to know how to find fame, or fortune? Do you wish to know your own future? One question is all I will permit, but as a thanks for your assistance, I will answer that one."

Newt hesitated. There were two questions he wanted to know the answer to. He considered, but didn't want to risk getting sent away with neither answer.
"I lost a baby once, and the man I loved, the man I believe to be the baby's father. They are both dead now. Please, tell me where my child is buried, and if you are willing please tell me if the man...if he is near." Newt fell silent after that, waiting to hear himself condemned. He could remember the muggle mob that had pushed him down to the ground, remembered seeing metal flash, remembered his arms being broken before his tiny son was wrenched from his arms. Then the beatings had begun. When he woke up a few hours later, in a London hospital, they had told him his son hadn't made it. Newt hoped he wouldn't hear that his boy was lost again. He wanted a grave to visit, to lay flowers on. He waited in silence for their response.

Icarus had scattered pebbles across the floor, looking at how they were moving in response to Newt's question. After a few minutes in which he kept repeating the same gesture, and the pebbles ended up in the same place, Icarus looked up.
"Your son has no grave." He began, and Newt felt his heart sink.
The centaur smiled after a moment, and Newt wondered if this was a game or a cruel trick.
"After your kindness, let me repay you with some good news. Your son has no grave, because even humankind does not bury the living. And he is still amongst their number."
(AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10775682)

Newt's heart raced. It had been eleven years since the healers had found him, stained in his own blood and sobbing, left for dead by the humans who had taken his child. The healers had told him that the child hadn't survived. He had been young then, barely eighteen when the baby was born. If he hadn't been expelled, he still would have been within the safety of Hogwarts' walls. As it was, he had been meddling in things he had no place in, and he had suffered for them. He had never once doubted that his actions had cost his child their life.

"Where?" He whispered before he could stop himself. He had already received the answer he had asked for, but knowing his son was alive somewhere in the world without knowing his location was the worst torment Newt could imagine. Asking for further generosity from centaurs could be seen as greed or disrespect, but he had to know.

Icarus considered for a moment, his hooves scraping across the ground before he spoke.
"He is across the ocean, within sight of the torchbearer who welcomes travellers. If you travel quickly, you will arrive in time to assist him. For he needs a parent's guidance, now more than ever."

"Thank you." Newt murmured reverently. This was the opportunity he had dreamed of but never expected to face. This was his one chance, and he was grateful for it. the centaurs nodded, and escorted him from their forest. As he perched on the broomstick, flying away, he was already trying to work out how to get to America. Thanks to their strict laws he knew that he and his creatures would not be welcomed there. Not only that, but he knew he could easily be seen as a political target - the younger brother of a war hero and chief auror. While Theseus was saving wizard and muggle lives alike, Newt had been trying to rescue the innocent creatures caught up in it all. He'd been freeing a couple of Iron Bellies from the Austrian command post when he had been overwhelmed, pushed to the ground and stunned unconscious. He remembered little until the cell.

He never remembered his captors' faces, thanks to the spell they used. Newt wondered whether he had walked past any of them since the escape. But he remembered the gentle touch of the man in the cell next to his own, the constant reassurance that somehow, everything would work out. He believed the man. Even when his body had begun to change, he had trusted the man's promises and thought the three of them would start a life together. He had been wrong.

Officially, he spent the entire war working with dragons. Once his child had been delivered and ripped from his arms, he had returned to duty, now working with the soldiers rather than rushing along headlong in an attempt to save the creatures. He felt there had probably been some kid of success and improvement from his work in the war, but he couldn't help wishing he had been able to do it on his own terms. After the war, he had been granted the contract for his book and he had travelled, having adventures he never even could have dreamed of. It was simpler in a way. Some nights, he dreamed of what could have been, but that was gone.

Had been gone. If the baby lived, he would have to find them, even if he had to tear apart heaven and earth to do it. His child needed him, his son needed him, and Newt could not ignore that siren call. He would find his child, and let him know he had always been loved.

Newt's mind was made up by the time he reached London, booking a one way ticket to New York. He could make good use of the trip, taking the opportunity to free a captive thunderbird which had been safely hidden within his case as it recovered from a particularly nasty leg injury. He booked the tickets, trying not to let his hopes build up too much. His son might want nothing to do with him.

He couldn't help wondering though, what his son would be like. If they might take after their father. If so, Newt might be able to piece together who the father was, and hopefully recognise the face of the man he had forgotten. He hoped that one day the boy would believe him if he said that the separation they had suffered had hurt him more deeply than any injury he had ever felt. It was one of those things which was hard to put into words, but his lack of eloquence in explaining in no way negated his emotions. Even when he believed his son to be dead, he had loved him constantly. Now he knew the boy was waiting for him. He just needed to find a way to reach him, to take care of him and ensure that he was safe. It would never compensation for the years that were lost, but it could provide a second chance and a fresh start.

***

Credence cowered in the alleyway outside of the church, feeling a little sick. When Ma spoke everyone listened, she had a way with people that seemed to hypnotise them. No one was willing to listen when Credence tried to speak. Everyone turned away, and it made Ma angry. She had hit him before this, sharp nails and furious fists. But recently, she had seemed more angry with him. He was eleven years old now, too old to be slapped for misbehaviour. She used his belt to strike his shoulders and his hands, and the leather now was stained red with his blood. He wrapped his arms around his knees, perched on a pile of bricks.

“Hello.” A gentle voice spoke, and he looked up to see a middle-aged man in a dark coat walking towards him. His thick coat looked warm, and Credence wanted to touch the soft fabric, but he wouldn’t dare.
“Hello sir.” Credence whispered, looking up towards him. He thought he’d seen the man before, watching Ma speak. “Do you… do you want me to find Ma for you?”

“Actually, my boy, I rather wanted to talk to you, if you would permit me that.” The man smiled, and leaned down. “Your hands there look sore. Let me see?”

Credence hesitated. No one was meant to know how bad he was, how sinful he was and how many problems he had caused for his poor Ma. But the man had already seen it. He held out his hands.
“I fell.” He lied, waiting to be caught out.

The man smoothed his fingers across the cuts, and Credence gasped as the surface of the wounds knitted closed. He cringed, leaning into the man a little, and was rewarded by fingers being brushed through his hair.
“This can be our secret.” The man said softly, and Credence nodded his agreement.

“Now, I’ve been looking for a special boy who could help me with your mother…” The man said softly. “What’s your name boy?”
“Credence sir. Credence Barebone.”
“My name is Mister Graves. My dear boy, I need your help. One of the children your mother is working with is... is in danger. And I want you to help if you can. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes Mister Graves.”
“You will tell no one you spoke to me.”

Credence nodded, and stood quietly, wiping his uninjured hands on his pants. He listened to what Mister Graves wanted of him, to try and remember what he could do for the man. No one had really shown interest in him before, but Mister Graves seemed fascinated.

***

Newt sat on a bench on the boat, watching the city approach. The other passengers were looking around in excitement, but he was taking a few moments to consider what the future would hold. Whether or not he succeeded, this visit would change his life forever.

The case catch flicked open, and he pushed it back down before chaos built out. This trip needed to go well. This city contained the answer to the question that had haunted him for nearly twelve years.

Somewhere, in those buildings and the streets around them, his son was waiting for him.

Knowing that he was in the same city as his son made Newt's heart race. He couldn't avoid thinking back to the day that he had lost the boy. He had been attacked soon after giving birth, alone in the forest before a band of muggles found him. They had been angry. They had beaten Newt, taken his child, left him for dead. For a long time, Newt had believed they had taken his son's body to be buried in an unmarked grave. But life was more complex than that, and somewhere out here his boy was waiting.

He tapped on the case, already picturing a dozen different ways of greeting him. None of them felt right. His son deserved to have an explanation, but there was so much Newt couldn't answer. He had abandoned his son. Had he known the boy lived, he would have kept looking. Now, he knew only the city. Even from the boat, it was clear that New York was a sprawling mass of streets, any one of which might hide his child. The cell he was in had been cursed to stop anyone within it from being able to remember the faces of those they saw. He wouldn't recognise the boy's father, and wouldn't recognise the child - he had seen him only for a few minutes before the attack.

There would be many boys his son's age. If the boy had curly red hair, and a love of animals, then Newt might be able to track him down. If the boy didn't look like him, it would be near impossible.

Those thoughts filled his mind as he wandered through the streets. He smiled at the street urchins, at the muggles passing by. Somewhere there was his child. He didn't even know if the boy had magic. If he did, it would be almost time for him to begin attending Hogwarts. Newt's mind drifted for a moment, wondering if his son would follow him into Hufflepuff, or if another house would be better suited. No matter what choice the hat made, Newt would be proud.

There was a woman shouting, and he paused to watch for a moment. Behind her he noticed a few children - a little girl of around eight, her hair braided in tight pigtails, and beside her a boy a handful of years older, holding up a flag. He was trembling where he stood, his eyes darting through the crowd. Newt realised that the boy would be the same age as his own child, and that realisation drew him closer, listening to what the woman was saying.

The woman was spouting off about the evils of witchcraft and magic. The same lines that Newt had heard when he had been seized by the band who had taken his son. He hoped the boy was free from that prejudice now, that he knew there was nothing wrong or unnatural with what he was. When he saw the boy, Newt would embrace him. Newt was certain he would recognise the boy the moment that he saw him - that something within him would call out to something within the boy, and they would be reunited.

The woman addressed him, and he answered as briefly as he could, hurrying past her in an attempt to capture the niffler that had escaped. In doing so, he passed the two children, and saw how their hands were clasped together. The boy was rocking slightly, and Newt frowned, worried for him. The girl saw him staring and glared at him until he stepped back.

Recapturing his niffler turned out to be rather a challenge, but eventually he managed to stow it back in the case with no more treasures. The muggle who had been caught up in what happened promptly hit Newt around the face with his own case and scurried off, leaving Newt alone.

He glared down at the case in disgust.
"When we find the boy, you better behave. If he's got something he cares about, I don't want you taking it because it's shining." He sighed, picking up the case, and walking away. He was stopped by a woman grabbing hold of his arm and squeezing, before the air around them spun.

He knew he was being apparated, and could only hope he wasn't being taken too far. Despite having no real plan, he had been trying to walk the streets in a logical order, to find the son that he had lost. He had to hope that if he walked past him, he would know him. He'd missed the boy for so many years.

There had been a name for the boy once, but the spell which stopped you seeing anyone's identity also hid their names, and other identifying information. He had learned that the man in the next cell was from wampus house, but that was as far as he got. Any more identifying information would drift through his fingers like smoke the second he needed to hold onto it.

If he did find his son, he couldn't answer who his father was. He remembered the others, the men who held keys to his cell and would sneak in after dark, how one of those had first told him he was going to carry for them.

His wampus had held him that night, through the bars of the cage, and promised any child that Newt carried would be their child. But when Newt tried to hang onto those thoughts, they would disappear from him.

"Who are you?" The woman spat, and Newt blinked slightly, focusing on where he was and wrenching himself out from memories of the past.
"I'm sorry."

"Who are you?" She insisted.
"Newt Scamander. And you are?"
"What is that thing in your case?" She asked. Newt frowned a little, not liking that he still hadn't got her name. It was made worse by how clear she was that she didn't like him or his creatures.

He tried to explain that it was an accident, but she didn't seem to care.
"You could not have chosen a worse time to let that creature loose! We are in the middle of a situation. That's it, I'm taking you in."

"You're taking me where?" Newt asked, managing to fight down the urge to point out he hadn't let the niffler loose - he had let himself loose.

"Magical Congress of the United States of America." She answered, holding up her identity card with a sense of pride. Newt smiled a little at that, realising that if anywhere would have the answers he was seeking, it would be within the walls of MACUSA.

"You work for MACUSA?" He asked, shocked. "What are you, some kind of investigator?" If she was, then it might be possible for her to track down his son. He smiled at that concept, then realised she was talking to him about No-Majs, whatever those were. After a few moments she seemed to be disappointed.
"It's a Section 3A Mister Scamander. I'm taking you in." The air twitched around them as she pulled him closer to MACUSA.

Newt had read about the Woolworth Building before, but it was different to see it, in much the same way as seeing within his case seemed to startle even those who were used to it. He felt a little nervous as he was dragged along - the woman clearly didn't want to help him, and being arrested would only slow his search.
"I do have things I am meant to be doing actually." He protested, making up an excuse about Appaloosa puffskeins that she didn't want to listen to, and letting her lead him inside. He tried to memorise the escape route. He would get a fine, and then he would continue on until he found his son.

He shivered a little at the thought of taking his son to Arizona to release Frank. He hoped his boy had inherited his love of creatures, didn't think he could survive if he had not there was so much magic and joy within creatures, and he needed to share that with someone. His son would have suffered, but perhaps the creatures would help. He needed to see himself in his child, even if he had been absent.

He was manouvered into an elevator, which rose quickly. As it did so he became more aware of the woman beside him. She was wearing a dark coat and held herself with confidence. But there was a nervousness just beneath the surface.

She ushered Newt along a wood paneled corridor, then led him through into a large room. There were a group of people standing at the table, talking quietly. A woman turned, addressing the woman beside him, but Newt barely noticed her.

He was staring at the man who faced him, his face bruised. He felt a sense of familiarity, of coming home, when he looked at that man. He remembered stolen touches, a gentle hand resting against the faint curve of his stomach, the promise of a life together. He knew this man. He remembered him, remembered the smell of him, the taste, the warmth.

He stared at him hypnotised for a few moments, the woman tugging at his sleeve, before he realised that the man facing him didn't recognise him at all.

Newt felt sick. He knew that that man was his wampus. The man who had kept him alive, who he prayed had fathered his child. The man who had sworn he would find him, no matter what, that he wouldn't be alone. And he had looked straight at him and seen nothing. He bit his lip in an attempt to stop himself whimpering. The lady who had brought him in was talking about wand permits, about laws, but he couldn't care about any of it. He just kept thinking back to his wampus, his American. The name still escaped him, drifting from him, but he remembered the rest. Remembered how his wampus had fought like a wild cat when their captors had hauled Newt away. How he had held Newt when he cried, sung to him. He could still hear the tune in his head, and he hummed it under his breath.

He remembered being grabbed by one of the captors, looking up. He couldn't recall their face but he knew that they had snarled down at him in a way that made his stomach twist. He'd been dragged from the room, and he'd heard his lover scream behind him. And then there was a flash of light, a vivid green that stained the air and stole his lover from him. He had screamed, and screamed, and the man had shaken him. He'd been handed over in exchange for one of their friends, and then... he had written down, everything he could recall. None of it was enough.

His wampus strode into the room. The movements were more obvious - Newt recalled him moving like a predator, slow, careful. Now, he moved with pride and confidence, head held high.
"Mister Graves sir." Tina greeted him, and Newt swallowed. Had they not been separated, his name now would be Newt Graves. That thought made him blink back tears. They would have a child, a boy of eleven now. They would have been so happy... He heard himself sob, glancing up at Graves as he tried to recall a first name. Nothing sprung to mind.

Mister Graves regarded him coldly, and Newt wondered if this was his punishment. Whether Graves was angry at Newt for not protecting their boy, not finding him. He couldn't believe the spell had a stronger effect on Graves than on him. But if he remembered, that meant he was choosing not to acknowledge Newt.
"I'm sorry." He murmured, and Graves looked at him curiously. It was the first time he'd looked Newt in the eye, but even then there was no spark of reaction. He swallowed nervously, trying to work out what he could possibly say, but no words came to him. He wanted to apologise for failing their son. He shuddered, blinking back tears.

Graves walked forwards, placing his hand on Newt's shoulder, but something about the situation felt wrong. Newt tensed. He was sure that this man was his wampus but there was a fear in his heart at that moment which he couldn't even begin to understand. He took a few slow breaths, trying to fight down sickness. A tear trickled down his face, and he was unable to stop it.
"There's no need to cry now Mister Scamander." Graves said, and he almost purred Newt's surname, as though he recalled that at least. "It won't help anything. It won't excuse your actions. All it will do is get my handkerchief wet." At that, he reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. It was initialed with the letters P.G. He leaned in to wipe away Newt's tears, and Newt tried not to show his concern.

This was his wampus. This was the man he had dreamed of making his husband, that had promised him he would love their child regardless of parentage. This was the man he dreamed of, the man he missed every day, the man he thought was dead. But something was worrying him. He couldn't begin to explain why, but he was driven by the knowledge that something about this man was wrong in a way he couldn't even begin to explain. He didn't want the man to touch him.

His wampus was the only man he had ever truly loved. He had felt hope, that he could be wanted, when he had been with him. Even in the hell that he had faced, his wampus had given him strength. When he was alone, sure Graves was dead, he had tried to remember, hoping to tell their child everything about it. His body had continued to grow, and he had slept with his arms around his swollen stomach, humming what he could remember of the tune Graves had sung.

The labour, when it came, was painful, but Newt had delivered enough creatures by then that he knew what to do, how to care for himself. He had found somewhere isolated, and got into position on his hands and knees, casting a spell to silence the screams that escaped. It had hurt worse than he had imagined, but he got through the pain, and cradled his son in his arms. The boy had a mess of dark hair on his head, and Newt had held him as he cast a few spells in an attempt to clean himself up. He had promised the boy he was loved, that he would look after him, and had fed him before sleep had claimed him.

He was woken by a gun bumping against his forehead, and looked up to find himself surrounded by muggle soldiers wearing uniforms - mostly British, with a few from the colonies. He was surrounded. He curled up around his child, aware of the blood that was still on the ground a few short feet away. One of them had stepped forwards.
"Where is she?"
"Who?"
"The girl who you killed. Whose baby you stole." The man spat, and Newt gagged, holding his son closer. He had been exhausted then, too weak to fight. His magic couldn't work when he was this exhausted. When the first man had kicked him he had reached for his wand, but one of the muggles picked it up, and snapped it before his eyes.

"I told you he was a witch." The man spat. "Filthy creature. He killed some woman to take her pregnancy as his own. Unnatural." He snarled, as someone else called him wicked, and a third called him a monster. The blows came faster, and he had curled around his son in a desperate attempt to protect the boy.

Hob-nailed boots hit his head, and the world went black as he fell limp.

He woke two days later in a magical medical wing, broken bones still knitting themselves together. It had fallen on one of the healers to take his hand, to squeeze softly and look into his eyes.
"I'm sorry." The man had told him. "They killed the child. They nearly killed you."

At that moment, Newt had thought his life was over. He had been prepared to die. He probably would have done if he hadn't met someone who had worked with dragons, who asked for his help. Helping save creatures gave his life back a little of the meaning he had lost.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect our child. But he still lives." He whispered to Graves, hoping for some kind of mercy, hoping the news would bring him joy. Graves regarded him coldly for a moment before nodding.
"Thank you for your help Miss Goldstein. I can handle it from here."

"But sir the... the niffler?"
"I can handle it Miss Goldstein." Graves insisted. "You get on with your work."

She walked away, but as she left she glanced back at Newt. Newt tried to catch her eye, silently begging her to stay, and after a moment she nodded before leaving the room.

Graves pointed his wand at the case.
"Incendio." Flames licked over the leather, and the air filled with the smell of burning bread. Newt watched in horror, trying to understand what was happening as Graves placed a hand on his arm. "I think we need to talk. Don't you Mister Scamander?"

Newt nodded, feeling numb. Nothing was making sense. He knew his case was warded against fire, which meant that what had been burned wasn't his case, but his wampus, his lover, had tried to destroy his most precious thing. Graves led him along the corridor to his office. Newt let him guide him inside, catching sight of Miss Goldstein following them before the door closed.

"I think we should start-" Graves said, and Newt couldn't help noticing all the ways that he was wrong. He could barely remember the man he had loved, but he knew that every part of this was wrong. The smile was wrong. The eyes, the stance, every part of it screamed at him. "With you explaining exactly why you are here?"

Newt thought of their son, in New York and in need of saving. He thought of the centaur's words: "He needs a parent's guidance, now more than ever." He glanced towards Graves, thought of the pile of ash which stood where his case once was, and held his tongue.

"Well, Mister Scamander?" Graves asked, his arms crossed, staring down at Newt with eyes full of expectation. "There must be a reason you came to New York, other than releasing a niffler? Unless that was your intent all along."

"I wanted to find some Appaloosa Puffskeins." Newt mumbled, trying to keep his wits about him enough to keep the story straight. "I knew there was a breeder in New York, and they would be a vital addition to my book. I know it's against the law, but I hoped-" The smirk on Graves' expression felt unnatural there, and he shook his head slowly.

"What were you saying about a child?" Graves demanded, his wand out. Newt could tell the older man’s pose was threatening, gasped as chains wound themselves from his wand and wrapped around Newt's thin wrists.
Newt felt his heart racing, and shook his head.
"I thought you were someone else."
"What were you saying about a child Mister Scamander?" Graves insisted. "I can make you tell me, which will not be pleasant, or you can tell me of your own free will, but I will get the information I wish. For your own sake, I suggest you tell me willingly."

Newt cringed, trying to remember what exactly he had said at a point when he had been drowning under fear - that he couldn't protect the child, and that they lived. Had he realised how wrong everything was, he would not have spoken at all - preferring death over putting his son at risk.
"If you know the whereabouts of a magical child, you should tell me so that I can aid them." Graves said, and his voice was reasonable now, leaning in and smiling at him. "You're a clever man Newt. Surely you can tell that a magical child needs help and guidance..."

Newt thought of the girl in Sudan he had been unable to save. He thought of the many people he had met, magical and muggle, who would have done better had they been loved by their parents. He thought of how confused the muggleborn children in his class had been at their first admission to Hogwarts. Still, he held his tongue. He would not risk his son for anything other than absolute certainty.

"Do you have a brother?" He asked after a few moments, trying to deflect attention from himself. If this was his wampus's twin, it would make sense - there were moments when the man felt more right than anything he had ever known, but there were others where he made Newt's skin crawl.

"No brothers. What about the child."
"I ..." Newt hesitated. "I knew you during the war. I was..." He hesitated. "I was in trouble, and you said you'd help me with the child." He swallowed repeatedly, trying to formulate a lie that would withstand Graves' cold gaze.
"And where is this magical child now?"

"They are in England." Newt lied quickly. "They're in Hogwarts. A Gryffindor, like you would have been."
Graves looked him up and down, and frowned.
"Then why come here?"
"Because I lost them. They got adopted and I only just learned where they were. Because I wanted you to know..." He glanced down, waiting for the shouting to start.

Graves raised an eyebrow, toying with his wand and watching Newt coldly. Newt tried to keep his breath slow and regular. He felt bad for lying to his wampus, but the man he loved would not want him to have put his son at risk.

***

Credence couldn't stop thinking about Mister Graves, and how he had helped heal the wounds on his hands. He kept thinking of it as he wandered the streets, pausing on top of the grates that vented hot air into the street above. It was cold, and he was shivering as he held out the leaflets, people passing by without reaching for them. He kept trying, knowing that Ma would be furious if he returned with the leaflets.

His younger sister, Modesty, sometimes threw the leaflets away. That was their secret. Yet Credence was sure that if he tried, Ma would know and she would punish him for it. Some snow drifted down from the sky, and he kept walking on.

He jumped as he stepped in a puddle, water gushing in through a hole in his shoe. He whimpered, the leaflets slipping from his hands onto the dirty ground.

He dropped to his knees, scrambled to pick them up before Ma caught him. She wouldn't listen to his reasons. If she saw him like this she would belt him, and he would deserve it. The leaflets were filthy now, and no one would take them. Worse, his pants were stained with mud. Ma would be so mad at him.

Sorrow overwhelmed him as he sobbed. He curled up on a nearby step, his knees up to his chest, and whimpered.

Something nudged at his shoe, and he looked down to see the strangest creature he had ever seen. It was the wrong shape for a squirrel or a rat. But it was covered in dark fur. It climbed up his leg, its little furry backside wriggling to and fro, before falling on his belt buckle. It made little snuffling noises.

"Hello.." Credence whispered, wiping away his tears as he wrapped his arms around the little creature. "I don't know what you are, but you must be cold..." The creature was nuzzling against him, and Credence didn't have the heart to push it away. The leaflets were already ruined, and if he hurried he might reach home before the last of the soup was gone. He could share it with the creature.

Ma had been furious before when he had tried to keep a black cat. This creature was black, but he was almost certain it wasn't a cat. Anyway, he wanted to hide it. Modesty would help him if she knew.
"Let's get you home..." He whispered, patting the creature on the head. It seemed content enough in his arms for now.

***

Graves eventually cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. Newt tensed and glanced up.
"I don't believe you. But I don't think that you are going to tell me anything right now, so I will put you in the cells. I hope by the morning, you are ready to talk."

Newt found himself marched by wandpoint down to barred cells that reminded him of his imprisonment during the war. He shuddered, trying to keep away from the walls, to ensure no one could grab him.

He didn't understand why his wampus had changed so much, didn't know what it was that he had done wrong.

Newt couldn't sleep in the cells. It reminded him too much of the war, of what had happened when he and his wampus first met. After being captured, he had found himself in a cell just like this. It was dark, and cold, and his memories overwhelmed him. He drew his knees up to his chest, rocking himself as he hummed under his breath. Pickett clambered out onto the top of his knees, gazing at him in concern. He chittered softly at Newt, and Newt tried to smile. He didn't want the bowtruckle to worry, not now and not ever. He'd already messed up so much.

Pickett bounced a little from one of his knees to the other, and Newt managed a smile, clapping his hands slightly to applaud the creature. It settled down on his knee to sleep, and Newt kept watch, glad he could see the bowtruckle. It helped him stay where he was.

He tensed as he heard footsteps making their way towards his cell, wondering who was coming for him. He looked around frantically for his wampus before the reality of what happened hit him. It was his wampus who had put him there.

Reluctantly he turned to face the person who was approaching.

***

"Someone came into the office today, looking for you." Grindelwald snarled down at Percival, who glared at him. It had been months since he had first captured his prisoner, and Percival's hair had become longer. He was bruised, and he twitched sometimes, his nerves damaged by the cruciatus curse. He had scars around his wrists and throat where he had struggled against the bindings. But he still fought, still tried to hold back information. Grindelwald couldn't understand why he kept trying to fight. It was clear no one had missed him.

"A pretty little red head." Grindelwald pressed on, and Percival looked at him blankly. "English. His name's Newton?"
His prisoner shrugged a little. He wasn't just trying to hold back information - Grindelwald could recognise the way he squared his jaw and glared at him when that was happening.

Percival didn't have any idea.
"He said he knew you from the war."
"Plenty of people in the war." Percival answered. "You don't mean...Theseus? He's many things, but I'd hardly say he was pretty..."
"Newton Scamander?"
"Theseus's brother." Percival said softly, half confirming it to himself. "I never met him. I can't tell you anything."

"He said that he was in trouble when you met. That you promised you'd help him with the child." Horror passed over Percival's face, followed by sickening understanding. There was that attempt at resistance, the gaze hardening, the jaw tensing. He planned to fight, even though they both knew that Grindelwald always won in the end. Percival would tell him everything he wanted to know.

But that look in his eyes, well, that said enough.
"It was your child, wasn't it?" Grindelwald asked, chuckling a little. "He must have been young in the war. Maybe even underage. Probably fell head over heels for any auror who gave him the time of day."
"You know nothing about it." Percival gritted out.

"I know that he must have not mattered that much to you if you left him. He said he thought the child died, but it's been adopted. He even told me which Hogwarts house it was in... but this child, I don't know if he was honest. Perhaps he was, or perhaps the child I'm searching for is your child... wouldn't that be an honour. For your child to become my weapon..."

Percival snarled, anger overwhelming him. The articulate and elegant director of magical security had given way to this broken prisoner.

"Your little dirty secret is sleeping in the cells tonight. In the morning I'll go and see him, and find out what he knows. Maybe we can have a little family reunion..." He ruffled Percival's hair, then walked away. Behind him he heard Percival cursing him and everything that he stood for. He ignored him, knowing that everything was falling into place.

***

Credence crouched down beside his bed, holding out a few scraps of bread. He dropped them on the floor. It wasn't all of his food, but it was a lot of it. He wanted to take care of the funny black-furred creature he cared so much about. He still wasn't sure quite what it was. It had little stubby legs and a waddling walk, with a tiny tail that wagged from side to side. It was sweet, and it listened to everything that Credence told it without getting angry at him.

He held out a nail that he had found on the ground today. It was shiny, and the little thing scrambled forwards, nuzzling the nail. A moment later, tiny paws tucked it away into its stomach, and it nuzzled Credence's hands hopefully.

"That's all I got." He whispered. The creature continued to nuzzle him. He let it until he heard Ma's footsteps on the stairs, at which point he shooed it back into its hiding place, standing to meet his mother.
"I can see the crumbs on the floor boy. You've been stealing food. Eating it when you have been bad, when you don't deserve food. You sinful child."

Credence cringed, but he didn't argue, his hands going to his belt buckle.

***

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Tina murmured, crouching down so that she could look into Newt's eyes. He was shaking, curled up small, and as he'd turned to face her there had been a look of sheer terror on his face.

"I used to see ghosts a lot." Newt answered. "I got on well with them in Hogwarts. They were mostly quite friendly. The grey lady showed me where there were a group of nifflers nes-" He stopped himself and shrugged a little. "I wasn't sure who you were."

"I'm sorry." Tina whispered. "I didn't expect him to do this. Here..." She handed him a hotdog she had bought for him. "I thought you might be hungry."
"I don't feel hungry." Newt answered, but he took the hotdog anyway.

"What happened?"
"He burned the case." Newt answered. "He burned the case, and he put me here."
"I'm sorry." Tina repeated. "It's not... not right. But creatures are illegal."
"He wasn't... he didn't know me." Newt murmured to himself. "Not really."
"Why would he?"
"We... we knew each other in the war." Newt answered, shivering a little. "He was never like that."

"Were you close?" She asked. Newt nodded after a moment.
"We were. He was never like that."
"I think he's been... he's been different." Tina answered, then paused. "We need to investigate it. Do you think you could talk to him? If we can get any kind of explanation, we can get this fixed."

"I'll try." Newt answered, meeting her gaze and clearly fighting to look brave.
"Thank you." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "I'll come back and see you tomorrow, okay?"
He nodded, and Tina walked away, glancing back over her shoulder.

Newt looked very frightened, and very small.

Newt couldn't sleep. Not in the cell, not with memories of the war battling with his own confusion and terror. He tried to keep his breathing slow and calm. Tina had asked him to find an explanation, and he wanted to do that. He wanted to find out what was happening, so that he could find his son. So that he could work out why his wampus despised him so much.

In the morning, footsteps approached. His wampus strolled across in front of the cage, head held high, a faint smirk lingering on his lips.
"Hello Mister Scamander."
"Director Graves." Newt forced out the words, trying to pretend that none of this was real.
"I'm going to have to ask you to come with me." The director flicked a pair of cuffs into the cell, and they wrapped around Newt's wrists, securing him firmly. "I believe the information that I want will be easier to find outside of MACUSA's gaze. If it's as sensitive as you say."
"It's not." Newt argued. If his wampus took him from MACUSA, he would be able to do whatever he wanted to Newt. Newt was a realist. He loved his child and his wampus both, but he knew he would eventually snap under torture. The Director was capable of doing a lot, and that panicked him.

"That's for me to decide Mister Scamander." The Director paused for a moment, and then met his eyes. "Knowing you, there are a lot of questions you must want to ask. If you come with me, I'll give you a chance to find out what is really going on."

Newt smiled at that comment. That was the kind of opportunity he had been hoping for - a chance not just to please his friends, but to answer the questions that had haunted him since the war.
"So, will you accompany me?"

Newt knew that if he agreed there would be no way for Tina to track him, no way to find out what was happening within MACUSA. But it was his one chance for truth and he couldn't risk not seeing it. He nodded, stepping forwards. The director gripped him firmly as the room around them began to spin.

As it cleared, he found himself in what had to be his wampus's home. In some way that he couldn't explain, it was less showy than the man himself, more like his memories from the war. The Director led him along.
"I just thought that talking at home would be rather more civilised than within MACUSA." The director explained, and Newt nodded.

"Especially with a matter as delicate as our son." The Director smiled as he said it, but his eyes were glinting. This wasn't just a question - it was a threat.

"Our son is within Hogwarts, studying. He's a Gryffindor, he's excelling at duelling." Newt told him and smiled a little. He hoped that smile might make the lie more believable. But his wampus didn't look trusting. He marched him through the house, pausing at a battered wooden door which pulsed with magic.
"If I put you in here, I think you're going to tell me the truth. But it could end rather nastily - so it's your own choice - would you rather tell me now, or later?"
"I've already told you." Newt answered. "He's a Gryffindor."
"I don't think he is." The auror shook his head, and unlocked the door before pushing Newt inside. He stumbled down the stairs to the basement, the room spinning.

***

Credence curled up on the floor before his Ma's altar, his hands shaking slightly. They were raw with blood, and he had been left to pray for a little while before his Mother would yell some more. She was furious, convinced he had stolen food from her. He could hardly confess the truth - he was sure Ma would feel that the stealing of food was less of an issue than the keeping of some creature.

It waddled over, a shiny penny held in its mouth. It dropped the coin in front of him.
"Thank you." Credence mumbled. "But don't you want that?"

It picked up the coin again, walking to in front of Credence and dropping it once more. Credence looked at him curiously, then picked up the coin and tucked it into his shirt. It did a little happy squiggle. He reached out and patted it.
"I've been thinking. You need a name, what about Button?" It nuzzled his hand, and he patted it gently. Its fur was so soft that it made his hands hurt less. As he waited, he started to cry, blinking back tears of fear. He felt a little safer while Button was there beside him.

***

Newt stumbled down the stairs, his hands still bound in front of him. The room was dark, but Newt could tell there was someone else alive in there - injured. It smelled like the worst cages he had found creatures imprisoned within.
"Hello?"
"He... hello." A voice called back. Newt stayed on the stairs, not wanting to risk approaching while his eyes were adjusting to the darkness. "Are you alright?" Newt's fellow prisoner called out. Newt couldn't imagine his wampus locking someone up in his own house, imprisoning him.

"I'm... alright. I'll be okay. Are you okay?"
"Alive." The man answered. Newt could make out the shape of a man now. His hair was long, and chains were wrapped around his wrists. He looked like a broken man. Carefully, Newt made his way toward him. "Is there anything you need? I'm good at healing charms, if there's ... I can try."
"Thank you." The man answered, and Newt could see he was twitching now, his body spasming. It was a common sign of severe torture. The man had been hurt, and hurt badly.

The dark haired man looked up, and Newt got a clear view of his face, backing away in shock. His wampus shook his head, looking up at him.
"You know, we've got to stop meeting like this."

***

Tina headed down to MACUSA's cells, carrying another hotdog. Newt would need some breakfast. She smiled her way past the auror guards, and walked to the cell she had left him in the previous night.

The cell was empty.

"You..." Newt swallowed a little, trying to work out what he could say to the man facing him. "It's you, isn't it?" he asked softly. "You... you're my wampus."
"My boy," the Director answered, with a faint smile on his face. He reached towards Newt, the chains around his wrists clinking slightly. "I thought you'd died. Even when he said...I thought it was just... just a new way of him hurting me..."

"I'm here," Newt answered, walking closer, falling to his knees in front of him. "Newt Scamander. You can remember my name now."
"Percival Graves,” his wampus answered, looking up at him fondly. "It's good to see you Newt. If I'd known you were alive, I would have looked for you forever...What... what about our child?"

"I thought he was dead," Newt said softly, his voice shaking a little. "But... I helped some centaurs. They told me... they told me he lived."
"Where is he?" Percival asked nervously. "Have you found him?"
"I can't tell you," Newt said. "You...the man pretending to be you is looking for our child. He might be listening."
Percival nodded, still visibly trembling. "Can I hold you?"

Newt moved closer. He was afraid. He looked up at Percival, seeing how thin he was, how his face looked bruised. He could feel Percival twitching every few moments, his nerves burned by the torture that he has endured.
"Thank you,” Percival whispered. "I wanted to hold you... for so long..." He closed his eyes, and Newt clung to him.

During the war, the two of them had been held in different cells. Most of the time, they had only been able to embrace through the bars of the cells. It was only on very rare occassions that they had been allowed close to each other. Newt remembered that. Newt remembered Percival kissing him softly, trying to make love to him. They had clung to each other even as Percival tried to save him.

The men who had caught Newt had drugged him, laughing amongst themselves about their plans to get him pregnant as punishment for stealing from them. Percival had tried to protect him, but in the end all he could do was hold Newt, and let him have a chance of it being their child.

He sobbed softly, being held in Percival's hands after so long. He could feel Percival stroking his hair, and he cried.
"Do you still want us?" he asked quietly.

"I do." Percival smiled. "My thief and my child."
"I haven't seen them," Newt mumbled. "They might look nothing like you."
"That won't stop them being my child." Percival promised. "At MACUSA, there is a wall of remembrance, for the wizards and witches who lost their lives in the surface of America. Given that your actions were aimed to weaken the people holding me captive, well..." He kissed his cheek. "I added you and our child to it. I didn't know their names. It just says a British Wizard and his child. That was all I could do for you."

"Thank you," Newt mumbled. He could barely believe that. That he had been remembered, that he had been wanted.
"I can't imagine what that must have been like when ...when Grindelwald found you."
"That was Grindelwald?" Newt stared at him. "Um. Why are you locked into your own cellar?"

Percival chuckled softly against his hair.
"I was wondering when you were going to ask that." His arms wrapped around Newt's shoulders, cuddling him close even as his arms shook. "It's a long story."
"Not got anywhere else to go." Newt mumbled. That at least was a familiar exchange. But he was with Percival now.

***

Newt was starting to be aware of how hungry he was when the door to the basement opened, and Grindelwald pointed his wand towards him.
"Imperio Come here Scamander."

Newt clambered up the steps, his body pulling him along even as he tried to fight it.
"I want to know what you know about the child."
"No." Newt answered, tensing as the cruciatus curse hit him. It was frightening, but he knew that his child needed to be protected. "I've told you,” he insisted, trying to be brave.

Chains wrapped around Newt's wrists, holding him into place as Grindelwald walked away. It took a few minutes before he returned, and he was dragging Percival with him. Percival was cringing, but as he got there he looked up at Newt.
"Don't..." He started to say.
"Silencio" Grindelwald threw the spell at Percival, before starting to throw curses at him. Stinging hexes initially, then cutting ones. Percival was curling up, sobbing and screaming in silence. Newt understood.

Percival had said he had been imprisoned for months. He had fought. He had fought harder than anyone could ever have expected, but he was exhausted now. He had been tortured, and Newt's reticence was meaning he was tortured more.
"Stop! Please," he pleaded with Grindelwald. "Don't hurt him. I'll tell you what I know."

Percival shook his head, eyes pleading with Newt not to abandon their son, but Newt had to protect the lover he had just been reunited with rather than the child he had never met.
"I know he is in America." He could only hope that that wouldn't be enough to enable their son to be tracked down. America was a big continent. But the look in Grindelwald's eyes implied that he had given away too much.

"Thank you Scamander," Grindelwald chuckled, ruffling Newt's hair before placing him under the imperius curse once more and marching him back down to the cells. He threw Percival after him. Percival rolled down the steps, whimpering as the silencing curse was lifted. Newt ran to him.

Percival shook his head, his eyes looking broken.

***

Credence tried to stand up straight as he walked about, trying to hand out his leaflets. Ma said it was sinful to slouch. Ma said a lot of things were sinful, and most of them were things Credence couldn't control, but he could walk with his head held high. Ma also said it was sinful to be proud, so he tried not to look too vain as he walked along.
"Credence, my boy." Mister Graves seemingly appeared from nowhere, resting his hand on Credence's shoulder and squeezing gently. "I've been looking all over for you. Now, give me your hands..."

Credence expected a lashing as he reached out. What he got instead was the soothing comfort of Mister Graves's magic caressing his skin, sealing the wounds closed.
"How old are you boy?"
"Eleven, sir."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, sir." Credence frowned. "Is that a problem, sir?"

Mister Graves mumbled beneath his breath in a language Credence didn't recognise. He caught a few words - vater or water, and stark, but nothing else. He hoped that Mister Graves wasn't angry. Instead, the man smiled at him.

"Credence, I want you to come home with me. If you do, I promise you you will be well cared for. You will be given food, and you will have your own room."
"Why?" Credence asked, cautious of Ma's tales of monsters who stole children for wickedness.
"Because that woman hurts you," Mister Graves said, his voice almost fond. "You are a dear boy, and she hurts you. Come with me-"
"But my sisters?" Credence blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mister Graves's expression hardened.
"Now Credence, those girls aren't your sisters really, are they?"
"No sir."
"Anyway, they should be happy for you," he insisted, his hand reaching out to grab Credence's wrist.
"Sir, I will come with you," Credence promised. "But I've got to go home and get something first." He couldn't believe he was standing up to an adult, but this was important.
"Go then," Mister Graves ordered. "But I will be waiting. Don't take too long."
"No sir." Credence scurried away, back to the church. Luckily Ma was out, and the building was deserted. He headed up to his room, picking up Button and tucking the small creature into his coat. He grabbed his copy of the bible, and a few of the anti-magic leaflets his Ma made - he knew she'd be angry if he left them. Then he returned to Mister Graves, not saying what it was that he had needed to get.

"You took your time Credence."
"Sorry sir," Credence held out the bible. Mister Graves rolled his eyes but nodded. Then he grabbed Credence's arms, and the world spun.

When it stopped, they were in the nicest building Credence had ever been inside. There were books, and cushions, and there were thick rugs on the floor that he longed to step on in bare feet. He stood with his head bowed, awaiting instructions, wondering if Mister Graves was going to be his Pa now. He thought he would be a good Pa.

"Come with me boy," Mister Graves ordered, and he led him up to a room twice the size of the one he had in the church. There were fresh sheets on the bed. There was a small window, and a desk, and a couple of shelves.
"You can put your book there." Mister Graves informed him. "This is your room. I need to make dinner, so you can get some rest and make yourself comfortable." He waved his hand at the room, and the sheets on the bed moved. Credence blinked, but didn't question it. He was quite tired - Ma had made him spend all last night in prayer.

Mister Graves left the room, and Credence allowed Button out to explore.
"This is our new home," he told the creature. Button nuzzled at his leg happily.

He heard the door to his bedroom lock, but then laughed as Button pulled a multitude of shiny things from its stomach.

***

Smirking, and sure that the boy was going to stay where he had been put, Grindelwald walked out of the room. The No-Maj woman had been a fool and a monster, but she had at least gifted the boy with the sense to obey his betters.

He made his way to the basement, to inform his prisoners about his new guest.

Grindelwald smirked as he pushed open the door to the cell, to find that his prisoners were cuddled up together. Percival moved forwards, trying to place himself between Newt and Grindelwald, but Grindewald moved him away with a flick of his hand, then arranged the two of them so that they were both kneeling smartly before him. He took a moment to relish in victory.

That moment was ruined by Percival spitting at him, eyes ablaze.
"Where is my son?" he snarled, pride shredded. He was little more than a feral animal now - the pride of MACUSA broken from Grindelwald's torture and the knowledge that his long lost lover had betrayed him.

"Our boy is quite safe." Grindelwald informed them, making sure that Percival's cuffs were secure. He slipped the key to them into his pocket. "He is going to learn what he truly is under my tutelage, and I shall make sure to compensate for his absent fathers. He was abused. Beaten. He holds his hands out for me so that I can heal him. He trusts me, and with him we can do great things."

"Leave him alone." Percival's voice was breaking now, like his spirit. He had been through a lot, and Grindelwald relished this one final blow to his soul.
"I will treat him well enough, assuming that my other guests don't cause any problems. If either of you do, he will suffer for it." He walked from the basement, lifting the charm as he exited, planning to prepare a meal. If he was to harness the host of an obscurus, he would have to ensure the boy had energy. Letting your weapons starve to death was never a good plan.

***

Percival Graves, Newt's husband in love if not in law, was laughing when Grindelwald left the two of them. His laugh was a terrible broken thing, but it was accompanied by an embrace that left Newt gasping for air.

"What is it?" he asked.
"He has our son," Percival murmured. "He said 'my other guests'. He's got our boy here. In this house, I'm sure of it. I always kept a guest bedroom, in case one day you came back. He's probably given that to our boy."

Newt looked up at him and nodded, than leaned in to kiss him with as much tenderness as he could, trying to help him focus.
"If he's here, then we have to get to him."

"How?" Newt asked as he looked up at Percival in confusion. "We are trapped."
"I don't know," Percival said softly. "But I've lost more than ten years of my son's life. I'm not going to let myself miss any more."

Newt kissed him tenderly, testing the restraints around Percival's wrists. If he could get him free, he had to hope - but to be honest, it wasn't going to happen. They both knew that Grindelwald wasn't a total fool. If he wanted to imprison someone, then he would manage to, no matter how hard they tried to get out.

Percival stared at the chains around his wrist, disgust across his expression. He was trapped, totally.
"That bastard." Percival cursed, and Newt nodded.

"It'll be alright. Our son... if he takes after you, he's going to be alright," Newt attempted to reassure him. After a moment, Percival smiled at him fondly.
"If he takes after you, he'll find a way to get out of there."

Newt nodded, resting his head on Percival's chest.
"So now?"
"We wait," Percival murmured. "We wait, and we know that we won't give up. What has been happening in MACUSA?"

Newt explained to him what had happened and Percival was more relieved than anything, to find out that not everything had fallen apart yet. Whatever Grindelwald was doing it was clear he had been waiting for their son. Newt blinked slightly.
"He said he was abused, didn't he?"
"He did." Pain passed across Percival's face at those two words, at the thought of their son suffering without them there. But Newt looked truly troubled, squirming where he sat, a frown resting on his face.

"He's an obscurial," Newt murmured. "Our little boy... for Grindelwald to be looking for him... he must be planning to use him as a weapon. He's..."
"There's not been an obscurial for centuries-"
"I tried to save a young girl in Sudan three months ago," Newt said quietly, shaking his head. Percival pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"You think our child is?"
"I can't see why else Grindelwald would be looking for him."

"Then he needs us soon," Percival said firmly. Newt nodded, and kissed his cheek.
"I think I can save him. I couldn't save her. But I had to try, and I think I've learned..."
Percival squeezed his hand gently, the two of them gazing at each other. Percival frowned slightly as something green appeared at Newt's shoulder.
"What-"
"Pickett. This is my friend, he's a bowtruckle. Pickett, this is Percival, my... my lover."

Pickett waved a leafy hand and Percival. Percival paused then waved back.
"You're an odd one Newt. It's good to know I didn't just imagine that."
Newt giggled a little and looked up at him.

"i believe in our son," Percival promised, and Newt smiled a little.
"I need to see him."

Percival nodded and squeezed his hand.
"We will."

***

Credence settled down on his bed, staring around at his room. The sheets were soft, and he glanced at his bible, before deciding he could rest for a little while. He stroked his hands over Button's fur.
"You can sleep under my bed, or under the desk?" he suggested. "And I'll find you so many shiny things." He glanced around the room, hoping that he could find something that would draw Button's attention.

There was a glasses case on the desk. He opened it, and found some silver-edged spectacles inside. He didn't want to steal from his Pa, but at the same time he knew that Button needed nice things. He picked up the glasses and popped them on the floor, noticing the brass bedknobs and drawer handles. Those also shined - but he didn't think he could easily remove them.

Button squeaked up at him and settled down beside the glasses. Credence smiled, and then stood as he heard the door unlock. Mister Graves stuck his head around the door.
"Food is ready."
"Thank you." Credence said softly, ducking his head as he walked out, relieved that Button was hidden behind the door. He wasn't sure if he was allowed a pet. He would ask, but he was scared that Mister Graves might say no. He didn't want to disobey, but Button was his closest companion. He couldn't lose him.

He walked out nervously. He glanced from side to side, not wanting to do anything wrong. If he was going to stay with Mister Graves, he needed to not do anything wrong.

The food smelled nice. It was a tomato soup, richer and fuller than what Ma had used to feed him. Everything about being with Mister Graves was so much better than what had come before.

"I need to talk to you about something my boy," Mister Graves demanded, and Credence looked up.
"Yes Mister Graves?"
"I need to know if you have done anything that you shouldn't have done." Mister Graves said. Credence swallowed, knowing that he had done lots of bad things. He shrugged his shoulders a little, cringing in on himself.
"I have done a lot of bad things," Credence admitted. "Ma always said I was... I was born to be a sinner."

"There's one thing in particular I am wondering about," Mister Graves said to him firmly. "Because I know some people get upset, and I need to know how you act when you get angry."

Credence flinched as though he had been beaten, thinking of the anger that swarmed through him when things went wrong. He remembered darkness swallowing him up and then erupting from him.
"You know what I'm talking about, don't you Credence? You are a very special boy, aren't you?"

"The smoke?" Credence whispered. "I don't mean to - I know it's bad magic Mister Graves, I don't want to, I'm so sorry."
"It's quite alright, my special boy. But I want to see it."
Credence closed his eyes and tried to call up the smoke. The smoke normally was something he dreaded, and when that happened he couldn't fight it. But he had never tried to have the smoke happen, and it wasn't happening now.

"I can't sir." Credence admitted, ashamed.
"Then eat your soup, and go back to your room," Mister Graves said firmly. "I can't help you until you can show me that. I must see it."
"I'm sorry Mister Graves."
"You don't need to apologise. You just need to do better."
"Yes Mister Graves." Credence finished his soup, and went to wash up his bowl. He cleaned the other pots and pans carefully, then headed back to his room. He pushed the door open, and then it closed behind him.

He jumped at the sound of the lock clicking behind him. Even though Mister Graves was still downstairs, he was trapped in his room.

He looked away, and frowned slightly at what he saw. Button wasn't there, and now fear twisted inside him.

Mister Graves had wanted to see the black smoke that hid within Credence. He hadn't been able to call it up when he was asked, but it was threatening now, bubbling beneath his skin as he realised that Button was gone. He didn't know what Button was, but he had loved Button very much. He was sad that Button had gone, but beyond that he was also afraid.

Mister Graves might not like Button. He might be angry with Credence for hiding Button. Ma would certainly have been angry, and Mister Graves was his Pa now. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to call the other man Pa. He would ask when Mister Graves saw him next. He breathed slowly, trying to relax, to call the smoke back into him.

He didn't like what the smoke made him do, how bad things happened around him when the smoke happened. But now he knew he was meant to do it. He couldn't understand why Pa would want him to have the smoke - perhaps he would be able to stop it if he saw. Pa was a good man, kind and able to heal his injuries, so he could only assume that he would be wanting to help him with the smoke. But that smoke wouldn't stop.

Very quickly he started to pile together shiny things from around the room - the spoon he had pocketed at the table, the silver-edged spectacles, one of the drawer handles, a shining silver pen from on the desk and a mirror. He had to hope that would be enough to call Button back.

He sat down on the bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and concentrating as he tried to stop the smoke. He focused on the sense of calm he felt when Button was close. Button was his friend, and he wouldn't abandon him. Credence was sure of that.

He was feeling a little tired, and he rocked from side to side. The sense of smoke and anger faded, with only a sense of loneliness remaining. He had to hope that it would all be okay, that Button would come home to him soon. Because he wanted to look after him, and because he trusted Button. He would wait for Button, and everything would work out for them both. Pa would be sure of it.

***

Newt rested with his head on Percival's shoulder, knowing that he was safe there. His lover was here, and that meant that everything would work out in time.
"What happened?" Percival asked. "How did you...I know you loved our son. How were you parted?"
"I tried to care for him," Newt murmured, not wanting to be viewed as a disappointment.
"I know," Percival squeezed his hand. "You would have fought for our child, I know you. You're like a dragon, or a mother-nundu, even just to your own creatures. You would have done anything for our child-"
"I would." Newt closed his eyes. "I would have looked, if I'd known he was alive. The healers told me he was dead... we were found by some muggles, just after his birth. I was still trying to gather my strength, cradling him when they found me. They said..." His voice shook. "They said I had killed a woman, and stolen her child. I tried to protect him from the beating that was coming. I curled up as the blows landed on me, to try and save him. But I was... I couldn't stand any further."

"You can't blame yourself." Percival's voice was gentle, and he pressed a kiss to Newt's forehead. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should have protected-"
"It's okay," Newt said firmly. "You're here now, and so is our son."

Percival nuzzled into Newt's hair, and for a few moments Newt let himself dream of life once they escaped - they would still have each other, but they would no longer be trapped. They would have their son, and they would be happy. He smiled as he thought of it, closing his eyes.
"We'll be a real family."
"We will," Percival agreed, and Newt snuggled into his grip for a moment. They would have to escape, but he could leave that for a little longer. After so long parted from his love, he wanted to allow himself at least a little time to enjoy the company and know that he was exactly where he belonged. There was nowhere in the world that he was safer than with Percival Graves. A daydream would harm no one.

He drifted off in Percival's grasp, waking only when Percival twisted slightly, his voice a whisper.
"Newt."
Newt opened his eyes reluctantly, and Percival was looking up towards the doorway. He looked up that way and froze when he saw something small sticking his little fluffy face under the door.
"Niffler?" he asked curiously, watching as the niffler raced into the room. He came straight towards Newt, clambering onto his lap. Newt brushed his fingers through the dark fur, and the niffler nuzzled his fingertips.

"What is that?"
"He's my niffler," Newt explained. "He likes shining things... he should be in my case, but Grindelwald... Grindelwald set fire to what I thought was my case, so I don't..." He sighed, rubbing his forehead after a moment as he tried to understand. "Grindelwald must have brought it back here, must have..." He shook his head. "It's good to see you boy..."
Percival smiled at him.
"See? This is a good sign. You always used to threaten me that if we did live together you'd have creatures all over the place."
Newt nodded, touched that Percival remembered. The niffler gently batted at his hand.
"I don't have anything for you," Newt said softly. "Greedy little thing... here." He moved so that the niffler could try and nudge Percival's cuffs.

Percival rolled his eyes, but held them out for the niffler to examine. Newt quickly caught the creature, upending him and tickling him to check that he didn't have anything useful. A couple of cents dropped out, but nothing else, and the niffler squeaked in anger.

Newt released him, and the niffler quickly restuffed his pouch, before scurrying out from the room. Newt watched him go and flinched slightly.
"Maybe he'll steal something useful?" Percival said with a slight laugh. Newt nodded.
"We can only hope..." Newt paused for a moment, then rested his hand on Percival's thigh. "But it's a good sign. We can get out. I know we can."

***

Button cuddled up against his mummy for a little while. Mummy looked sad, but he had found a new mate, and that had to be good. Mummy had stolen all of his shinies, and that was a bad thing, but he hadn't stopped him getting all of them back. He quickly put all of them back in his tummy, and ran away before his mummy could steal them back.

He struggled to climb up the stairs. He only had little legs, and climbing up was hard, but he managed to stumble up each of the steps. Because mummy wouldn't get to steal any more of his treasures. Those treasures were his, and he was willing to share it with his new friend.

Button liked his new friend. He smelled like mummy, but he was gentle. He touched his fur softly and told him he was good. His new friend would never steal any of his shinies, Button was sure about that.

Button slipped under the door, and found his new friend was sat on the bed. His new friend was sad, so Button climbed up onto the bed and nuzzled his lap. His new friend made a happy noise, murmuring soft words to him. He was cuddled by his new friend. The friend was talking to him, and he couldn't understand all of what was being said, but he caught some of the words that were being said - the words 'shine' and 'pile' caught his attention.

His new friend placed him down on the floor, and he was delighted to find a pile of shining things waiting for him. He nuzzled each of them in turn, then tucked them away into his pouch so that no one could steal them. Then he clambered back onto his new friend's lap, and snuggled up, chirping softly at him. The touches to his fur felt nice, and his new friend seemed happy with them, even if he was still shaking a little in a way that seemed sad.

Button closed his eyes and let himself sleep.

***

When Grindelwald pushed open the door to the bedroom the obscurial jumped, shoving something under the bed.
"What've you got there?" he snapped.
"Nothing Pa." The boy cringed. "I'm sorry."

For a second, Grindelwald was so startled at being called Pa by the boy that he stumbled, but then he leaned down to take a look and found that there was nothing under the bed. The action was probably just him stumbling.
"Have you had any luck with the smoke yet my boy?"
"No Pa," the boy answered, his head bowed. "I'm sorry. I've tried my best."
"Not good enough my boy. You are to stay in here until you've got some progress."
The boy nodded, shrunk in on himself.

"Pa?"
"Yes?"
"Are you going to fix me?" the boy asked, his voice quavering pathetically. "Are you going to make it stop?"
"I'm not going to change you my boy." Grindelwald answered. "You're perfect just as you are, and you are going to help me do great things."

Fear shone in the boy's eyes, but Grindelwald was relieved by that. He knew that fear would be needed if the boy was going to become an obscurus.

AH! Forgot to post the chapters on here, please go to AO3 to read: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10775682/chapters/27098517

Credence headed back to his room, thinking over what it was that he had overheard. You'll be an obscurial soon enough, just like your son... you're lucky I found him - If I hadn't, who knows what he could have ended up doing. Director, you were in charge of handling rogue magic weren't you... aren't you glad I saved the boy rather than leave him to your mercy? that meant that the man with the kind face had a child. There must have been another child under Pa's care. It hurt Credence that they hadn't met each other yet, when he was trying so hard to be good. He thought through the rest of the conversation. Ma had taught him to remember things well, explained that only foolish lazy children forgot. He would never risk being lazy But I want to see that smoke start pouring off you, want to see what you are really capable of.

There was no way he could mistake the meaning of that sentence. Whatever he was, whatever wrong and unnatural monstrosity lurked within him, it looked within this man too. But this man had been good, had been kind until Pa used torture and pain to draw it out. Maybe that meant Credence could be good as well. He bit his lip, wishing that there was someone there to ask - Chastity perhaps, or any of the other children. But it was too late for that.

Pa was making the man on the floor scream in pain. Credence worried as to whether the same torture was going to await him - if he would be punished by Pa if he didn't learn to change soon. He was trying his best, putting all of his effort into getting stronger and doing what Pa wanted. But it didn't seem to be working. He couldn't make himself change.

The man in the basement, the man who needed his help, could. As silently as he was able, Credence crept back up stairs, sitting by the books that he had been given and watching the pictures. He never dreamed that magical images would move like this. It was hypnotising, and helped him to forget about what was happening.

He was staring at the pictures in genuine wonder when Pa returned, a few specks of blood visible on his face. Credence wasn't sure if the blood was Pa's or somebody else's. He tried to smile so that Pa didn't worry and so that he didn't get into any trouble. It wouldn't be good to make Pa worry. He suspected Pa could have the same temper as Ma, if he made too many mistakes.

"My boy?" Pa asked softly.
"Yes Pa?"
"Why did you follow me down to the basement?" Pa questioned. His voice was calm and cold, but there was a threat there that made Credence want to sob or ask for mercy. It was by force of will alone that he was able to prevent himself unfastening his belt.

"I was worried," Credence swallowed. "I don't... I don't know... I heard noises." He felt terrified, sickness bubbling inside of him. It was the sensation that he recognised from before - it was the dark smoke that his Pa had wanted him to produce.
"You need to stay out of there Credence. I do what I do in order to protect you. The men in there are bad men, do you understand me?"
"Yes Pa."
"Go to your room Credence. I'll bring your dinner to you."
"Thank you Pa," Credence headed back up, surprised to find that Button was already waiting for him on the bed. He wrapped his arms around the soft creature, stroking his fur.

"You know those men, don't you Button?" He mumbled. "I don't... I don't know if I can help them. Pa will be angry if I even try, but..." He buried his face into the beast's fur. "I need to try..."

Sneaking down from his room was a challenge. Pa had said he would bring up food. Credence couldn't risk leaving until after that.

A couple of hours later, Pa pushed open the door. He held out a small bowl of soup, which was only half full. He glared at Credence, and Credence wondered whether this meant he was Mister Graves again.
"Here. Don't go on adventures without permission in future, you hear me?"
"Yes Pa," Credence answered, taking the soup. He was fairly sure that this limited food was meant to be a punishment, but it was better than he had ever had with Ma.

Sneaking down from his bedroom could wait until Mister Graves had gone to bed.

***

Percival tensed as the door opened. Grindelwald stood there, still wearing Percival's face. Newt screamed out in his arms, his eyes turning white as black smoke started to cascade from his skin. Grindelwald held him back with a wave of his wand. Newt's smoke hit against it weakly, his lover whimpering faintly as he tried to maintain control.

"He's beautiful, isn't he Director? Not long now and he'll be broken... I wonder how he would react if I kill you."

Percival didn't let himself get angry, or to show any of the fear or terror that bubbled inside of him. Doing so would only upset Newt more. He just held what remained of Newt. Slowly Newt's body reformed, and Grindelwald left, but the smirk that was on his lips would haunt Percival for as long as he lived.

Newt whimpered desperately, leaning in to Percival's touch, needing the contact. Percival provided it, wrapping his arms around him.

When the door opened once more Percival nearly snarled, only to freeze when he saw that the boy, Credence, was standing there.
"You can come in," Percival told him, and Credence hurried into the room, scurrying down the stairs. He settled on the bottom step, watching them.
"I'm sorry he hurt you," Credence whispered.

"No," Newt said, forcing out the sound. He sounded shattered. "It isn't your fault. You did nothing wrong."
"He's a bad man," Percival agreed. "That isn't on you."

Credence hesitated, then slowly moved forwards until Percival could pull him close. The boy settled between Percival and Newt, seemingly hungry for the affection and gentleness they could provide.

Newt listened to what Credence had to say, but he looked too tired to say more, so Percival was the one to speak.
"I hear you've been taking good care of the niffler?"
"Button's my friend," Credence mumbled. "He helps me. I don't feel so afraid when he's there."

Percival nodded. He was tempted to tell the boy the truth, but had no idea how he would react. It could be too dangerous - the last thing he needed was two obscurials in the room with him.
"I'm glad he is looking after you," Percival answered, and Newt smiled a little, his eyes lighting up. Percival squeezed both of their shoulders, feeling a faint glow of pride.

Newt managed to regain a little strength as he told Credence about magical creatures. The young boy was particularly interested in dragons - their role in No-Maj culture making their existence intriguing. Percival held them both close, and tried not to let his thoughts drift to how this could have been a normal day with his family. Every one of them deserved better than that.

***

Grindelwald checked the boy's room, unsurprised to find it had been vacated. It was a positive sign - he knew that Percival's death would affect Newt, but now it looked like it could distress Credence as well, giving him the two obscurials he craved. Newt might have been transforming into a weapon, but earlier had proved that it was weak and undirected - Newt posed no threat to anyone, least of all Grindelwald.

He would go down and check on the prisoners, and find Credence there. A quick dose of pain for the boy would be enough to force a transformation onto Newt. Hopefully he would kill Percival in that first burst of anger. That would make everything simpler. But if he didn't, it would be easy enough to misdirect a spell, and get rid of the problem. Let Newt blame himself.

He opened the door and saw the three of them there, cuddled up, like they were a family. Each of them was playing the role he had planned for them to perfection. Newt paled at the sight of Grindelwald, his face receding into darkness. But Credence turned to Newt, talking softly. Grindelwald couldn't make out all of the words, but he could hear enough - Credence was telling Newt that it would be alright, that he was safe. It was all lies, but the lies seemed to be working.

"Credence, I told you to leave the prisoners alone."
Credence turned, and stood up from where he was sat. He walked forwards, shaking a little with terror that he was failing to control.
"I'm sorry Pa. I know you said I wasn't to go near them but..." He took a deep breath, as though fortifying himself, and Grindelwald's fingers twitched towards his wand. "I can't let you hurt them."

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Prompt Post #2

Newt is Credence's mum, mpreg, angst, happy ending

The Heart Grows Fonder (1/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (2/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (3/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (4/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (5/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (6/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (7/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (8/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (9/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (10/?)

The Heart Grows Fonder (Author note!)

The Heart Grows Fonder (14James/?)