Peculiar [Newt Scamander x Reader]

Child-like Wonder.

Year six rolled up faster than you could have ever imagined. Pacing through the big doors of the Great Hall was enough to leave you breathless once more as your eyes, still twinkling with that same childlike wonder that didn't leave you over the years, gazed upwards into the clear ceiling full of stars and hoovering candles. The scent of baked goods pulled you and your tight-knit friends closer and closer to your desired seats by the Gryffindor table. Some, who hadn't greeted you on the train, waved and popped closer to say hello before moving back to sit with their friends. Your big group, mainly consisting of Quidditch players, was the loudest of them all and you happily joined in the rumble before the first years arrived. It was just like last year – Kevin Quill was still grinning from ear to ear and fixing his notorious shabby hair, Eveline de'Bach was batting her lashes at the star Beater Leroy Ambrose, Brendon Clein was playing with the silverware and whining about how hungry he was and that his new nutritious diet his family had forced him to follow at home was to be broken 'as soon as the food appears'. You laughed, a happy grin pinching your cheeks so that they turned a light shade of pink. Soon though you became bored with staring at familiar faces and without the stress of O.W.L.'s riding on your back you found yourself empty of topics. So you decided to listen. Listen to adventures of Sonna Day, who broke her leg during the summer break on a bad broom accident, or to Clarence Shaw, who insisted that his toad ate his cat. Such peculiar stories were always fascinating and exciting tones were more than enough to shake the light fog of exhaustion around you, but you still found your head resting in your palm, (colour) eyes hopping from one place to another as if trying to memorize each face in the Great Hall.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren't the only one getting a bit bored of conversations. Newton was doing the exact same thing, but his perspective was much different – he didn't have a group of Hufflepuff's scooted around him chatting his ear off about tales that may or may not be true. Instead he sat alone, next to some friendly sixth year boy that he was an acquaintance with. He carried a book with him at all times just in case such situations arose, but even if his fingers twitched in anticipation to learn more about Dragonflies, he figured the ceremony was about to begin and that excluding himself would be rude. Not that anyone payed any mind to him. Living in Theseus shadow for so long has taught him a trick or two. His magnificent green eyes were drawn in by the loud roar from the Gryffindor table, where Leroy was describing just how he stopped that pesky Bludger from hitting a fellow Keeper. Normally, Newt wouldn't pay two cents to this elaborate conversation, but something, more like someone, drew his eyes and he couldn't look away.

The dazzling light of stars shone in her (colour) eyes as she gazed at the standing male showing off his moves, her hands suited for clapping but they weren't spurring yet. A smile twitched on her lips, so big and bright that it made all else fade around her. The wild (colour) hair only magic could tame was boxing her face in, making those clear features stand out even more. Newt recognized her immediately – (Name) (Lastname), the Seeker. How strange...how come he never noticed you in such a way before? Sure, he has heard of you and yes he has seen you causing a ruckus, but never did he take the time to examine and admire you. He visibly gulped.

It felt like an arrow was shot when those eyes connected with his, the smile dimming ever so slightly from happy to lovely and Newt found the change much more appealing. Your gaze fixated him, made it almost hard to breathe. A newly found fascination with that confident, albeit gentle, perhaps even aloof, aura reached him all the way to his table. The spark only died down when the doors flew open and a stream of nervous first years flooded the hall.

Your cheeks finally cooled as you and your group reached the Main Staircase, idly chatting with some housemates you ignored the tingle on the back of your neck from being watched. It wasn't that big of a deal after all – you had eyes on you at all times. Only one of the many pluses of being on the Quidditch team was what you told to anyone who cared enough to listen. Your enthusiasm died down gradually, as catching a case with some Hufflepuff's you pulled away from conversation to admire the waving paintings. You waved 'hello' to some back, grinning and winking at a couple of first years that awed at the sight. Their small hands latched onto the railing and they swayed when it took an unexpected turn. On cue, the rest sighed. Irritation picked at your throat – these stairs were as unpredictable as always! Pushing away from the railing and calming down a shaken up first year with a gentle pat on the shoulder, you turned your head just in time to catch a glimpse of the fiery haired boy you locked gazes with during the ceremony. Something clicked in your memory – isn't that...?You blinked, stupidly at that, recalling the name of Newt Scamander and his peculiar interests in magical creatures. The said boy himself hopped off on the tenth floor along with two Hufflepuff's, not saying a word or even glancing in your direction.