Chapter Text
A few days passed…
The Volturi throne room had long returned to its familiar chill, all marble and menace, but in a shadowed corner of the vast space, one thing remained stubbornly out of place: a battered, brown suitcase.
No one touched it. Not the guards. Not the attendants. Not even Felix, who once lifted an entire carriage just to make a point. The suitcase thrummed faintly with magic, warded and charmed in ways even the Volturi’s archives couldn’t decipher. It pulsed like a heartbeat, faint and steady.
Inside, the world was far from quiet…
The first time Marcus descended into the peculiar magical realm tucked within Newt Scamander’s case, he was struck by an overwhelming sense of life. Lush landscapes unfurled in every direction—forests, valleys, waterfalls—and nestled among them were creatures he had only heard of in old scrolls: a swooping Thunderbird stirred the sky, a curious Niffler scurried beneath golden grass, and Bowtruckles watched him warily from twisted trees.
And at the centre of it all, was Newt, pacing back and forth. They spoke briefly and Newt taught him how to feed the Fwoopers.
Coincidentally, Newt was crouched near a Fwooper’s nest when Marcus visited today. Humming gently under his breath as he crumbled up a special feed mix into a wooden dish. His auburn hair caught the light filtering through an enchanted canopy, and for a long moment, Marcus said nothing. He simply watched.
Even without eye contact, Marcus could feel the pull of the bond thrumming in his chest. It was quieter than he’d expected—not the raging fire that had him consumed during their first meeting, but something softer. Persistent. Like vines curling over old stone, claiming it slowly, completely.
“I’m aware you’re there,” Newt murmured without turning. “Please don’t disturb the Fwooper. She’s nesting.”
“I would never,” Marcus replied, stepping closer, though still careful not to intrude on the little sanctuary. “This is… incredible. The work you do.”
Newt glanced up briefly, just enough for Marcus to catch the soft green of his eyes, then focused again on the Fwooper. “They calm me. The creatures. They’re predictable. Honest.”
There was no accusation in his tone, but Marcus felt it anyway. The unspoken contrast: creatures are honest. Vampires, by implication, are not.
“I won’t lie to you,” Marcus said quietly. “Not now. I’m not even sure I could.”
Newt didn’t respond right away. Instead, he dusted off his hands and slowly stood, brushing hay from his coat. He didn’t run. Didn’t flinch. But his movements were careful—self-contained. Guarded.
“You’re not what I expected,” Newt admitted after a long pause. “Any of you.”
“And what did you expect?”
“More… theatrics,” Newt replied. “Fangs and declarations. Less restraint.”
Marcus gave a quiet laugh. “That’s more Aro’s style. Or Caius, if he’s in the mood.”
Newt arched an eyebrow. “He seemed… intense.”
“He is,” Marcus confirmed. “But underneath it all, he is fiercely loyal. Protective. And Aro… well, he’s many things. But neither of them would do anything you didn’t want. Not now. Not when it comes to you.”
Newt folded his arms, eyeing Marcus with a mix of curiosity and something deeper. “And you?”
“I’m already yours,” Marcus said simply. “I’ve felt it from the moment I saw you. The bond—whatever it is, however it works—doesn’t require convincing. Only time.”
Newt looked down, as if trying to make sense of something unseen. “I don’t know how to… do this.”
“You don’t have to,” Marcus replied. “Let it be what it is. Let us be what we are, in your time.”
And that, somehow, seemed to settle the air between them. Newt gestured for him to follow as he moved deeper into the case, toward the habitat for his more social creatures. The sunlit glade was warm and tranquil, dotted with moss-covered stones and a lazy stream. Marcus found himself sitting beside Newt on the grass as the beasts wandered in and out of view, occasionally pressing against their mate curiously.
“They like you,” Newt observed. “That’s rare. Especially for the Kelpie.”
“It’s mutual,” Marcus said, smiling faintly as the Kelpie dipped back into the pond. “Though I admit, I’m still adjusting. Being here feels… alive. After centuries of dust and marble.”
“You could stay,” Newt said absently, then blinked, startled by his own words.
Marcus turned to him, eyes warm. “You’d have me?”
Newt fidgeted and blushed. “It’s… peaceful with you. You don’t ask things I can’t give.”
“Then I will stay,” Marcus said, his voice rich with promise.
Elsewhere in the Castle…
“He didn’t look at me,” Caius hissed, pacing in sharp circles. “Not once.”
Aro reclined against an arched window, smiling faintly. “He didn’t look at anyone, dearest. You’re not being singled out.”
Caius whirled. “He didn’t flinch when Marcus entered. He invited him.”
“Because Marcus doesn’t growl at every moving thing with a pulse,” Aro said mildly, tapping his chin. “We must be subtle. He’s not frightened. He’s… careful. Like a Bowtruckle.”
Caius muttered something under his breath.
Aro continued. “I suggest we seduce him the way you’d approach a skittish unicorn. Slowly. With patience. Or…”
“Or?”
“Or perhaps we simply show him who we are. Give him our time. He’s surrounded by creatures, yes. But does anyone court him?”
Caius blinked. “We’re ancient kings.”
“And he is our mate,” Aro said with finality. “We bend for him, not the other way around.”
There was silence for a moment.
Then Caius sighed. “Fine. I can be patient.”
Aro grinned. “Why do I find it so hard to believe you, brother.”
The Castle, the Next Evening
The silence in the grand halls of the Volturi castle was deceiving.
Caius had never been a man known for patience. Centuries of war, politics, and dominion had left him sharp-edged and cold-eyed. His ire, like his affection, burned in quiet fury beneath the surface. But Newt Scamander—sweet, strange, infuriatingly gentle Newt—had reduced him to pacing like a restless animal in his own home.
He hadn’t looked at him. Not even once. The insult was unintentional, Caius knew that. Marcus had said as much. “He isn’t avoiding you. He just doesn’t know how to see you yet.”
Caius didn’t like waiting. But for Newt, he would make an exception—because he had to. Because every moment that strange, precious man spent in his suitcase felt like a moment stolen from them all.
“Aro,” Caius said coolly, finding his brother seated in the ancient library, reading one of Newt’s open notebooks with amused interest. “We need to act. Marcus is already ahead of us.”
Aro smiled faintly without looking up. “I’m aware. He’s feeding unicorn foals and earning smiles. I’d call that a decisive lead.”
Caius growled. “We cannot lose him.”
“And we won’t,” Aro murmured. His eyes flicked up. “But you can’t scare him into seeing you. He’s not prey, Caius. He’s not even like us. If you want his heart, you’ll have to use your own.”
Caius rolled his eyes. “That sounds like something Marcus would say.”
“Maybe it’s something you needed to hear,” Aro replied.
There was silence for a moment, then Caius exhaled through his nose. “I want to see him.”
Aro stood with a rustle of robes and handed the notebook back to the desk. “Then let’s visit the case. But this time, we bring something… alluring.”
Caius raised a brow. “You mean a beast?”
Aro chuckled. “No. I mean us. But we bring gentleness. And perhaps… a gift.”
Inside the Enchanted Suitcase
Newt stood near the mooncalves’ enclosure, cradling a pygmy puff who had climbed his shoulder like it owned him. His sleeves were rolled up, his vest dusted with straw, and a Niffler clung to the bottom of his coat.
He was calm here. He could breathe here. The magical hum of the suitcase matched the rhythm of his thoughts—fluid, endless, safe.
Marcus had visited earlier. He didn’t speak much, but he’d helped brush the bowtruckle nests and sat beside Newt for an hour without expecting a word. That meant something.
Newt still didn’t know what to make of the Kings’ interest. Fated mates? Magical bonds? He’d studied them, sure, but never imagined he’d be one. And now, the three most powerful vampires in the world were watching him like he was the sun.
It’s not that I don’t like them, he thought, feeding a baby demiguise. It’s just… overwhelming. So much. Too much.
A gentle knock echoed through the case’s magic.
Newt blinked, glancing at the upper platform as the latch opened.
Aro descended first, graceful as moonlight, followed by Caius—sharp and severe, though trying to look casual. Both were dressed in twilight black, but Aro carried something wrapped in velvet.
Newt’s body tensed, but his eyes went to the gift instead of their faces.
“Newt,” Aro said softly. “May we come in?”
The creatures stirred around him. Pickett the bowtruckle crawled into Newt’s hand and clung tightly. He hesitated.
“Yes,” Newt whispered. “But don’t step too close. Niffler’s in a mood.”
Caius arched an eyebrow.
They entered slowly.
Aro set the velvet bundle on the crate nearest to Newt and opened it gently—inside was a golden snidget feather, preserved perfectly, glowing faintly with natural luminescence.
Newt gasped.
“How—?”
“An old friend,” Aro said, pleased with the response. “I thought it might interest you.”
Newt stepped closer, eyes locked on the feather. “They’re nearly extinct. Protected. I haven’t seen one since… Hogwarts.”
“We thought of you when we saw it,” Caius added, finally speaking. His voice was lower, gravelled like stone turned silk. “You deserve all the rare things.”
Newt flushed. “I don’t know what to do with this… attention.”
“You don’t need to do anything,” Aro said gently. “We came because we wanted to understand you.”
“And… to be near you,” Caius admitted, stiff but sincere.
Newt looked between them. For a long moment, he made no eye contact—until, at last, his gaze flicked just briefly to Caius’s chest.
A beat of hope thundered through the vampire’s undead body.
“You’re strange,” Newt said softly. “But kind. You feel like danger and home at once.”
Caius blinked. That, he hadn’t expected.
“And you,” Newt continued, glancing at Aro’s shoes. “You’re the curious one. You’d open me up just to look inside.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Aro said, though his smile curled with delight. “But I am fascinated.”
Newt gently set the pygmy puff down. “If you want to stay and feed the hippogriff, bring gloves. He bites.”
Caius stared at him.
Newt’s lips tilted upward.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked toward the enclosure, his creatures following like loyal shadows.
Caius let out a low, stunned breath. “He… smiled.”
Aro chuckled. “We’re making progress.”