Torn Between Brothers (Newt Scamander and Theseus Scamander)

i kissed the wrong brother

Summer 1914 was the crossroads at which two souls briefly met and lingered in each other's arms for as long as they could. Feelings ran strong and stakes felt high. It all started with a slight mix-up at a ball. Perhaps the work of cheeky fate.

"Carmen," Leta Lestrange said, a knowing smile playing on her lips, "you seem unusually nervous. It's just a boy."

The Hogwarts' Great Hall had been bewitched, its ceilings mirror the night sky, littered with countless stars, and floating candles cast a soft, flickering glow upon the room. Elaborate golden filigree adorned the walls, depicting mythical creatures that seemed to watch as the two girls plotted and ** in hushed voices.

Carmen let out a sigh, adjusting her corset under her satin dress. "I know, but it's different this time."

Leta raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. "I thought you had all the boys wrapped around your pretty little finger?"

Leta was right. Dressed in a dazzling satin ballgown, hair adorned with tiny gems that reflected the soft glow of moonlight, Carmen Malfoy could easily enchant any boy in the room with her witty remarks and bedroom eyes.

"It's not like that," Carmen replied. "I accidentally found one of his poems and we've been leaving poems for each other ever since."

Leta gasped. "You mean you haven't actually talked to him in real life? Do you know who he is?"

"Well, it's only been a week. No, I don't know him but we're-"

"Exactly, it's been a week. You guys should have at least kissed already!" Leta exclaimed.

"Ewww.. Leta, stop!" Carmen exclaims, throwing her head back in laughter and almost falling over. Then steadying herself, she says, "I'm going to meet him in the corridors at midnight."

On the opposite sides of the castle, two brothers talked in hushed voices in a dimly lit chamber. Theseus adjusted his tie with meticulous precision, while Newt, dressed in deep midnight blue, fumbled slightly with the clasp of his mask. It was gold in the shape of a lion's head that covered only the left side of his face, exposing Newt's luscious lips and right cheekbone

"You seem quite taken with this Mystery Girl," Newt commented casually, his tone belying the hint of curiosity that laced his words. "Do you have any idea who she is?"

"No, but I have my suspicions." Theseus smirked, putting on his velvet black mask.

As both boys entered the hall, the air was alive with laughter and whispers as students mingled and swirled across the polish dance floor in a celebration of color and costumes. It was that very moment that Theseus' heart jumped out of his ribcage because he had laid eyes on her. As he made a beeline for her, he could smell the daffodil perfume that he always smelt on the parchments that she writes her poems on.

"Hey you," Theseus said, sneaking behind her, surprising her. "You look magnificent, Leta."

"Theseus, you flirt!" she exclaimed delightedly. Now, the thrum of his heartbeat, like bongos, in the edge of his throat was overwhelming. He wanted to scream, 'I know! I know you're the one who's been writing letters to me. You're the one I've bared my soul to.' But he swallows and recomposes himself as Leta wraps her arms around him in a friendly hug.

"Leta, I..."

"How are you, Newt?" Leta interrupted him, turning to his brother.

"Yeah, good," he said, feigning a smile. The brothers share a knowing glance and Newt realised that this was the girl her brother thought he had been exchanging poetry with. Newt's heart dropped a little. She was his best friend, and he would be lying if he said he's never thought about them ending up together. "Excuse me, I think I see, erm, a Miffler, erm," Newt said, pushing past his brother and out of the hall for a breather.

In the hallway outside, unbeknownst to Newt, Carmen paced back and forth behind a pillar. She waved her wand, making palm-sized fireworks for her own amusement trying to dull the excitement and nervousness of meeting her mystery poet. She wondered if he would be as charming, as witty and as sensitive as she thought he would be,

Newt cleared his throat. "I don't think you're erm, supposed to do that."

"Mm.. what are you going to do about it?" Carmen teased, suddenly aware of how shallow this handsome stranger's breaths were becoming as she took a step closer to him. Her breath seemed to match his as time seemed to stretch and stop at the same time. She could see his chiseled jaw unobscured by the mask and his jade-green eyes that seemed completely enraptured by her. So this is what he looks like, she thought.

Closer and closer until they're but a mere inch apart, she asked, "Well? You do know who I am, don't you?"

"Yeah." Newt audibly gulped, confirming that he is her poet. "You're-"

Before Newt could finish, Carmen had slipped her palm in the nape of his neck, drawing him close to her a little too abruptly, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Lips to lips, eyes closed, her tongue exploring his mouth in heat of passion.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," Carmen said, pulling away briefly, kissing Newt again who seemed a little stunned. "I've been craving your lips since you replied to my poem."

Newt tried to pull away, but she pulled him into another kiss. So delicious and captivating, he felt he couldn't stop. Heat rose up to his cheeks, hot flashes on his arms. He had to tell her.

"No, stop," he said. "I was going to say, you're the Malfoy girl." Newt was now aware that her hands were still around his neck, and his grip had tightened around her waist. "You're the only one in your family to be sorted into Gryffindor."

Still caught in the embrace, Carmen gasped, crestfallen. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not your poet- But I think I know who is..."