The Witch That Time Forgave | Newtmione (2)

Chapter 1 | A Sliver of Light

¡THIS IS NOT MY STORY! The story was make by nyxblack on fanfiction.net.

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It had been three months since they disembarked from the New York harbour, boarding a ship bound for Britain.

Three months later and a semblance of normality had finally begun to return to Hermione and Newt's life. Three months... and the guilt of leaching Newt's kindness was tearing at the edges of Hermione's mind.

No Money. No Job. No place to call all my own. Hermione thinks with a sigh as she rereads the portion of her book once more, unable to concentrate fully on the task at hand.

It's not all bad, though. She relents. Her eyes glance over to Newt, working on the final edit of his manuscript at the small wooden desk shoved against one of the living rooms walls. Strong shoulders clothed in a white button down, his exposed forearms flexing as he drags his quill across the parchment rolled out before him. Exposed skin, deliciously freckled and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Not bad at all.

Hermione's mouth runs dry. Shaking her head as she attempts to focus on the task at hand once more, quickly failing as the words on the page begins to swim. Intelligent brown eyes glaze over, as she gets lost in her thoughts. The dim, lighting within the room eases her trip down memory lane.

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There was no one waiting to meet them upon their arrival in Britain. Hermione, in particular, had been convinced that upon their docking in Britain an entire task force of Aurors and Ministry officials would be there to bring her and possibly Newt in for questioning. Hermione certainly knows how to make an impression, and now she had caught the attention of the entire wizarding world, again. All thanks to the incident with Grindelwald and their adventures in New York.

Hermione sighs again, smoothing her ink-stained fingers over the pages of the book held in her lap, hardly registering the way the aged pages seem to pull at her skin.

Small blessings. She thinks. A small smile pulls at her lips, taking in Newt's tall, firm frame and the way his flushed cheeks look in the light. His freckled hand runs through his hair as he mumbles quietly to himself, fully immersed in his work.

Neither Hermione nor Newt cared much for their new status as the current heroes of the Wizarding world. That combined with the Ministry's silence and lack of presence since their arrival was disquieting, to say the least. Every day, a foreboding feeling would tickle the edges of her very being, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, dreading the day a task force of Aurors would storm into Newt's apartment and take them both in.

An audible sigh escapes Hermione's lips. Poppy clacks quietly in her ear, hoping to soothe her frayed nerves. The corners of her lips twitch into a gentle smile, recalling the conversation the two had just as they were entering British waters.

"Listen," Newt begins, pausing as if unsure of how best to continue. "You need a place to live, and I have an apartment-"

Instinctively, Hermione's lips curl downwards into a frown, turning to face the magizoologist with piercing, irritated brown eyes.

Newt steels himself; straightens his back, squaring his shoulders as he turns his soft gaze to Hermione's own. Brown and blue meeting in a flurry of unvoiced emotions, both parties eager to say their piece as Hermione opens her mouth, brows furrowed.

"Wait! Please." He begs quickly, stopping her before she can begin. "Before you get angry with me just listen please."

Newt had already become somewhat accustomed to her occasionally explosive temper in the past few days, now acutely aware of her lashing reaction to anything perceived as a slight or grave injustice. It was nearly impossible to put a halt to the ensuing argument that was sure to follow.