Newt Scamander Preferences

Preference: The Mother Of All Plotwists * FYI New Plotline Starting ASAP *

A/N: Just a little hint for what you should expect from this chapter. 

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One Month Later.

He had waited unpatiently for your return but you never came back. You never returned to him, for you had subsequently died from your horrific injuries.

Newt sat in the Headmaster's office, staring out at the rain which was pouring heavily through the broken guttering.

The elderly male sat opposite him, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

The auburn-haired male wasn't sure why this man had been chosen the be the Headmaster of Hogwarts School. Prehaps it was the way he was calm collected? Maybe it was because he could be truly empathetic when it came to talking about topics that made others feel uncomfortable? Or prehaps...maybe...prehaps it was because of his intimidating size?

"How are you?" the said Headmaster asked, his hands clasped together, resting on his oak desk.

The young student shrugged. "I'm no better than I was a month ago, if that's what you're asking."

"Because of what happened to the students in the Owlery?"

He nodded.

The elderly gentleman sighed. "Mr Scamamder, we have talked about this, what happened to them wasn't your fault."

"But it was." the Hufflepuff's gaze suddenly filled with unadulterated anger, as his eye contact met the Headmaster's. Newt's jaw clenched as he attempted to swat away the red mist he was seeing.

He sighed and shook his head, feeling completely dejected. "I can't stop blaming myself. If Jules had just accomplished drowning me-"

"Then you'd be dead." the male interrupted Newt.

The patient shrugged. "At least two other people wouldn't be dead. (Y/N) and Isadora would be alive. Jules would be in Azkaban, regardless and (your friend's name) wouldn't be stuck in a coma and Valerian in permanent state to fear."

"What happened to those four students," the older male continued his interruption. "was not your fault. lt was Mr Hollinger's. You are not guilty of anything."

The young male sat forward, his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "I just wish there was something I could have done that night."

"You can't blame yourself for what Jules Hollinger became."

"I don't blame myself for that, it's one of the only things I don't consider as my fault. I blame myself for letting (y/n) die."

"They died trying to find out what happened to you. Do you wish that they hadn't cared for you?"

"No." Newt said, utterly horrified. "No one should have died that day. We should all be alive."

The headmaster shuffled in his seat, hands now steepled beneath his chin. "I see."

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

He shook his head. "I have been a Headmaster for a long time, Mr Scamander. I have met crazy more than once. You are not crazy."

A small smile played on the student's lips. A rare sight. "It's just," he cleared his voice, sitting up and gaze now focused on the window, the rain in particular. "I want to remember them without the pain. Do you think I'll ever be able to do that?"

"I think in time, Mr Scamander, you will make peace with what happened."

****

Reality.

Oblivious to the hours that had slipped passed, you ultimately found yourself being awoken by someone. Jolting awake, you feared that it was a teacher. Oh the trouble you would be in if it was. In a blind panic, you scrambled to your feet, hastily attempting to smarten your uniform.

"There's no need to look good on my account." a familar voice quietly mocked you.

You suddenly stopped your fussing, movements paused as realisation washed over you, hitting you like a non-magical brick wall, forcing you to focus on the person stood before you. That voice could only belong to one person...

...Newt.

Your facial features moulded into a mask of relief. Never in your life had you been so happy to see the tall male.

"What are you doing here, (y/l/n)?" he asked as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

Without warning, your lips were upon his. He hadn't been drowned and you weren't dead. It was all just a dream. A horrible, horrible dream that had totally changed the way you felt about the younf male.

With quite some force, you had backed him again the stone wall of the alcove, concealing your choatic embrace from any prying eyes.

"What are you doing?" he groaned, attempting to protest against your delicious kisses but he eventually gave in, knowing that resistance was futile.

Out of all the arguments you two had participated in, this one was by far Newt's favourite and he was certainly happy to lose this one.

You attacked his lips hungrily, all the pent up resentment you held for another was being released. There was nothing hentle about your kisses, all you longed for was to taste him, to have him completely take over your senses. Taste, touch, sight, hearing- the gutteral growls you were eliciting from him were certainly not nearly erotic enough.

You needed to have him be a shaking mess beneath you. You needed that have him begging for a release. You never realised how much you needed him full stop.

Except there was still so much you needed to say before you could continue you with your less-than-pure thoughts and hopefully, actions.

Pulling away, you pushed him back slightly, attempting to catch your breath, for you would need a lot of it in order to say how you felt. "I don't want us to be enemies anymore. No more arguing. What you said to me in the library, I haven't been able to get it off my mind. Your words are literally imprinted on my brain. Then you vanished and all I kept doing was imagining all of these terribly sad scenarios in my mind, thinking about how you were alone because of some morons from my house. I just want you to know, I want to help you. We need to stop these assbutts but I couldn't do anything without your permission, which is why I waited for you tonight. I knew that you were still handing in work and-"

You were fully prepared to carry on with your babbling but your were soon interrupted by Newt's arms pulling you into a comforting embrace, his face nuzzling at your neck.

You instantly relaxed, feeling your hunched shoulders slumping forward, as you snaked your arms around his waist, holding him close to you. Who'd have ever thought that you'd oneday be wrapping your arms around Newt's waist, rather than his throat. "You infuriating, annoying, wonderful (your gender)." he murmured, a chuckle reverberating through his broad chest.

"Not annoying?" you quipped back.

"Do you always have to have a witty reply?"

You recalled him uttering those very words not so long ago, only this time there was no malice in his tone, only humour. "Of course," you rolled your (colour) eyes, even though Newt couldn't see your sarcastic gesture. "you'd think me ill otherwise."

He pulled away slightly to look down at you, never had you seen him gaze at you in such a happy manner, usually it was in vexation.

"Quite right." he smiled, though he subconsciously bit his lip. You suddenly felt very hot under the collar. "Have you really been that worried about me?"

You simply nodded in response, face aflame.

"Who'd have thought it, (y/n) (y/l/n) was worried about me." you thought that he was mocking you but you could find no humour in his eyes, only genuine amazement. "And totally into me." he smirked.

"You know...we still need to do something about those Gryffindors."

His facial features became more somber. Just like you had done, he merely nodded.

"I want to help you, will you let me?"

With your question, his smile returned. "Of course, I'd think you ill otherwise."