Prompt Post #1

[fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme]

 ROUND 1

FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER

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Fill: Obscuri are parasites

[(Anonymous)]

...because anon is bad at titles. Credence/Newt preslash, maybe if you squint? Anon filler also sucks at romance, so. Anyway. Here it is.


He remembers drifting, after the barrage of magical lights on the subway. He lets the wind push him every which way, except...except he also remembers wishing, with all that he had left, for safety and warmth, and for someone to help him. His mind flashes back  to the man who had spoken to him on the subway, the one who had promised to help him, who had asked to come closer, even knowing that Credence was dangerous. 

The push of the wind gentles, somehow. As if it had made up its mind on where to take him. Maybe it had. He's finding it harder and harder to consciously think of anything. He relaxes into the breeze and lets it guide him. He doesn't have anything left to lose. The cold has seeped into his very being and he doesn't think he'll ever get warm again. 

And suddenly, he smacks into warmth the likes of which he's never felt before, like a tiny ice cube suddenly dropped onto boiling water. He hears a cry-- not his own, as he distinctly feels the absence of his body-- and he jerks away on instinct, startled, curling in on himself as much as his wispy existence will allow, expecting pain, because what else could he expect, it's always, always pain, he's learned that lesson long ago, and it-- it doesn't come. 

There is warmth, spreading slowly but surely all over him. There is the feeling of steady, measured, warm breaths flowing through him. Breaths that are not his own, because he doesn't have lungs at the moment, and if he did, he'd probably be hyperventilating. Sound slowly trickles back as well, and he hears words in a cadence that he isn't used to -- British, he realizes slowly-- and he is much too disorientated to even think about deciphering the words. What matters is that the words are steady, and reassuring. like the breathing. 

He settles. He settles into what he belatedly realizes is a human. He clings determinedly and folds himself into the crevices of the human's clothes, seeking the warmth that the body gives off constantly. He grazes the human's skin with a tiny tendril, and he feels a pleasurable tingle spread all over him. It soon becomes overwhelming though, and he tucks the tendril away. The warmth is enough, and all his senses tell him that he is safe, and so he lets go of his tenuous connection with consciousness at last. 

--

There is something darker about Newt Scamander when he returned from New York. Theseus knows how often the rumor mills of the Ministry distort the facts, but in this matter, the rumor mills are undeniably right. Less than five minutes into his reunion with his brother, he knows that something has irrevocably changed. 

He didn't think that anything would ever taint his little brother's blinding brightness and purity, and yet here Newt was, steeped in so much Dark Magic that Theseus could barely restrain the urge to put his own beloved brother at wandpoint. He had fought against many Dark wizards and witches in the war and won. He knows various ways to incapacitate, if not outright kill this--

He takes a deep breath, and another, and another, until he has the urge in control. With a few flicks of his wand, he closes his office door and erects the strongest privacy and safety wards he knows. He turns back to Newt when he is done, and demands, "Brother. If indeed you still are my brother. Explain, now. What happened in New York and WHY. ARE. YOU. OOZING. WITH. DARK. MAGIC?"

Newt startles, and looks down at his clothes. He certainly is oozing now. Visibly. Tendrils of semi-corporeal darkness are coming off of him. 

Newt flushes, like he always does when embarrassed, and flails his hands in time with shaking his head in denial. "I-It's not what it looks like, Theseus!"

Theseus takes another deep breath, and loosens his stance with conscious effort. Newt, who had closed his eyes and ducked his head after his proclamation, slowly peers up at him under his unruly bangs. Theseus offhandedly notices that Newt's freckles seemed to have multiplied over the years. 

"Well? I'm waiting," Theseus says, after another moment of silence. 

Newt bites his lower lip, before blurting out, "Did you hear about the business with Grindlewald...?"

Theseus gives Newt a flat, unimpressed look. Crosses his arms on his chest. And starts tapping his fingers. Newt gulps visibly and loudly.

"O-Of course you did, you're you, what am I saying..." Newt wavers, then takes a deep breath, seeming to gather his courage. "Grindlewald tried to break the Statute of Secrecy using an Obscurus, Theseus!"

Theseus does a double-take, and then the dots suddenly aligned and he knew. He pinches the bridge of his nose, even though he knew it would do nothing against the sudden stabbing headache he had developed.  

"You're telling me, that's--" Theseus gestures at Newt vaguely, "...an Obscurus. Because of course that's what it is, isn't it? That's what you do. You find a poacher with a demiguise and you bring it home. You find an Obscurus..."

Newt is nodding vigorously, smiling and happy that his big brother understood him so well. 

"...and you host it! It's a magical parasite, Newt! Your magic feels distinctly Dark now, and it'll kill--"

"No! Credence would never, Theseus!" Newt vehemently denies. 

"Credence, is it? And how long has Credence been leeching magic off you, exactly? The whole way here, I suppose? Can you even still use your magic, Newt? Can you still cast spells?"

Newt avoids his gaze, instead finding his shoelaces very interesting. Newt purses his lips, then sighs. 

"I wanted to ask a favor, Theseus. I can teach you the spell to separate him from me. He can understand what's happening around him, you know. And he doesn't want to kill me. He just doesn't know how to unlatch, so to speak. But..."

And here, Newt steps forward and looks at Theseus in the eye. "Please promise me not to kill him. I promised him that I would help him, and if only Grindlewald hadn't--"

"Alright. I'll help."

Newt inhales sharply, and his answering smile is blinding in intensity. 

--

Credence regains his body after spending nearly a month as a black wisp. Newt regains his magic in a little more than a week, with the only permanent consequence being an additional Obscurus to his magical menagerie. Theseus, long used to using his considerable influence in the Ministry of Magic to get Newt out of trouble, produces papers for his brother's new "assistant" posthaste.