Chapter Text
I love you more than the stars in the sky
but your name just escapes me tonight
-1930 / The Gaslight Anthem
“The mind is a delicate thing, Mister Scamander, and yours has been through severe trauma due to the curse you were hit with. If we attempted to repair it now, we’d only cause more damage. Our mind healer will see you again in four days.”
Newt nervously twisted his hands in his lap and nodded jerkily. He couldn’t remember being hit by a curse. He couldn’t remember much at all.
“I’ll send your husband back in, if that’s alright with you? There’s no need for you to stay here, and I think time at home, in familiar surroundings, might help trigger your memory.”
Newt gave another shaky nod even as his breath caught in his throat. His husband . The elegant man in the black coat, who’d looked at Newt with eyes full of despair.
Percival . He’d said his name was Percival, like one of King Arthur’s knights. His magic had felt warm and powerful, reaching out for Newt and wrapping around him like a protective shield.
How a man like that was his husband was beyond Newt. He twisted the ring on his finger, watching as the light reflected off it. He knew that his name was Newt Scamander and that he was a magizoologist. He remembered his parents and his brother, though their names escaped him. He remembered Leta Lestrange and Rodolphus Cauldwell, being expelled from school, the poachers in Egypt and Unicorn traffickers in Romania.
It seemed his memories had been filtered, the good ones taken away and the bad ones sticking, like a stain that couldn’t be removed.
Newt huffed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying harder to recall something, anything. It felt like grasping at straws.
The door opening broke Newt’s concentration. Footsteps echoed through the room and a pair of polished black dress shoes appeared in his line of sight, his gaze still fixed on the floor.
“Newt?”
When Newt looked up he found Percival’s hand hovering over his shoulder, like the man wasn’t certain he was allowed to touch him. His hair was disheveled, like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.
“Are you ready to go?”
Newt took a calming breath and nodded, jumping down from the examination table. His head spun and he swayed on his feet. Hands steadied him and the smell of cologne filled his nose, warm and comforting. He’d never smelt it before and yet it made him feel …safe.
“Easy there. Is this alright?” Percival asked, wrapping an arm around Newt’s shoulders.
“Y-yes.” Newt allowed himself to be led from the room and down the hallway. He had no idea where home was, where Percival was taking him, but he had no choice but to trust this man.
***
“Newt!”
They’d barely taken a few steps when a man jogged up to them and threw his arms around Newt.
“Sweet Merlin you’re going to make me prematurely grey. I’ll look like Percy, it’ll be horrible.”
“You wish.” Percival muttered next to them.
“I’m...sorry?” Newt mumbled as he was crushed against a strong chest.
When the man let go and pulled back, Newt finally got a good look at him. They were the same height, but the man was broader, more strongly built. His eyes were a bright blue, not flecked with green like Newt’s, but his russet hair and the smattering of freckles across his nose were the same. There were fine lines around his eyes, like he smiled a lot. Right now his smile didn’t reach his eyes though - it looked strained and brittle, like a mask that didn’t sit quite right.
“You’re...my brother?” Newt asked and the man’s lips pulled into a grin.
“I am. My name’s Theseus and I’m your brilliant older brother whom you love and worship and always listen to.
Newt wrinkled his forehead.
“Always.” Theseus repeated. “You always do everything I tell you to.”
“I lost my memory, not my mind.” Newt pointed out and something in his chest eased when Theseus laughed and Percival’s lips twitched into a smile.
“Pity.” Theseus winked and pulled Newt into another one-armed hug. This time Newt shyly wrapped his own arms around his brother’s middle. He felt frazzled and tired and misplaced, and Theseus felt solid and like home.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get through this.” Theseus rubbed comforting circles on Newt’s back, his voice low. “It’ll be alright, I promise you.”
Newt nodded and squeezed his eyelids shut, breathing shallowly until the burning behind his eyelids subsided.
***
The house was neat, neater than Newt remembered his childhood home ever being, but it was comfortable, lived in. Newt allowed Percival to take his coat and did his very best not to blush. His husband was an attractive man, and Newt wasn’t over it. Nor was he over the husband thing, to be honest.
He’d always felt isolated, incapable –and maybe unwilling– of connecting with people on a deeper level. To think that the sense of loneliness he had been well-acquainted with was a thing of the past seemed strange. As far as he remembered, he’d never even kissed anyone. He’d never dared to hope that anyone would want to kiss him. And now there was this very, very handsome man who took his coat and put his hand on the small of Newt’s back without a second though.
“Tea?” Percival asked.
“Yes, thank you, doll.” Theseus replied with a grin before Newt had the chance to say anything. Percival huffed and rolled his eyes while Theseus pulled him into the livingroom.
“Did they say anything about what you should and shouldn’t do?” Theseus asked once they were sat down. He slouched low in an armchair, while Newt sat on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped in his lap.
“Should we try to trigger your memory or give it a rest? Did they give you any potions?”
“No, they didn’t say anything.” Newt studied his hands, his gaze drawn to the ring on his finger again and again. “They wanted to give me a headache killer but...Percival said I’m allergic and gave me some no-maj medication instead. It helped with the headache.”
“Muggle.”
“Hm?” Newt raised his gaze to look at his brother.
“We call them muggles in England.” Theseus clarified.
“Right, of course.” Newt nodded and sunk a little more into himself. How could he forget that?
“Doesn’t matter.” Theseus waved his hand dismissively and smiled, probably trying to be reassuring. “Did they know what curse it was that hit you?”
“No.” Percival answered as he stepped into the living room, a tray with a tea service on it floating over to the coffeetable. “Someone cast it from behind. It was-” He stopped and sat down on the couch next to Newt with a sigh, looking like the weight of the world pulled his shoulders down. “It was intended for me, but Newt stepped behind me because a woman with a stroller passed by and the walkway was narrow.” Percival leaned forward, his arms on his knees and his gaze fixed on the floor. “He must’ve apparated away immediately after.”
Theseus nodded, his lips pursed in thought. “Grindelwald?”
“No.” Percival shook his head and raised his gaze to Theseus. “I know how his magic feels, this wasn’t his.”
Newt frowned. How would Percival know Grindelwald, one of the darkest wizards of their time? And why would Grindelwald stage an attack on Percival? It made no sense, like most things in Newt’s jumbled mind.
He took one of the cups of tea and carefully blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip. His hands were trembling ever-so-slightly and Newt hoped nobody noticed.
“I’ll come in help investigate if you want.” Theseus offered.
“Might be a good idea.” Percival’s shoulders dropped a little and the leather of the couch creaked as he shifted. “I’ve got my best people working on it. But I don’t want to go to the office now, I’d rather stay here with Newt.”
Newt briefly met Percival’s eyes but quickly averted his gaze and took another sip of tea, trying to hide his blush.
“Obviously. I’d have hexed your arse into the next century otherwise.” Theseus sipped his tea loudly. “I’ll go in and help your poor bunch with my brilliant skills, and you two stay here and...don’t get cursed. I’ll drop by for dinner later.”
Theseus drank the rest of his tea down like it was water, hugged Newt goodbye, patted Percival’s shoulder and was gone in a flash. In comparison to his easy chatter and loud nature the silence settling over the room made it felt empty and cold.
Newt took another sip of tea. He could feel Percival watching him.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity to Newt but had probably been barely a minute, Percival cleared his throat.
“I don’t...I’m not sure how I can help you. So please tell me if you need anything or want to know anything. You can ask whatever you want.”
Newt’s chest clenched when he looked at Percival, an invisible force squeezing his heart at the forlorn look on the other man’s face. He didn’t know his husband, but Newt was fairly certain that he wasn’t supposed to look like this. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat.
“Thank you.” His voice sounded hoarse and thin to his own ears. They fell back into silence, the kind that made Newt feel frozen in place, like even a shift of muscle was going to break it.
“Would you like to see your creatures?” Percival offered and Newt nearly spilled the remains of his tea as he jumped to his feet.
“Please.”
***
The world inside the suitcase felt familiar and Newt’s shoulders dropped from their tense perch. It was overwhelming, all the habitats, the sounds, the beasts, and yet Newt felt surer of himself than he had since waking up. His magic was woven tightly around the air in the suitcase like an invisible net, and it pressed around Newt from all sides like a comforting blanket.
“It’s time for feeding, if you want to do the rounds with me?” Percival very clearly tried to keep his voice neutral, though it cracked a little around the edges. Newt’s throat clicked as he swallowed and nodded, not trusting his own voice to hold up. He still avoided looking at Percival, incapable of stopping himself from blushing and feeling shy around the man.
Following Percival on the rounds it became clear that Newt remembered some of the beasts but not all of them. He knew about the mooncalves and graphorns, but when Dougal materialized in front of him Newt nearly jumped out of his skin. He had no recollection of the niffler or Pickett, who stayed perched on Newt’s shoulder, either.
No matter if he did or didn’t remember them though, Newt was still a natural with the beasts, petting them and not shying away from them in the slightest. It felt right, caring for these creatures, and Newt allowed his gut feeling to tell him what to do, as he’d always done. He fed the occamies bugs and scratched the diricrawls’ chins, their beaks chattering in pleasure.
It was easy, dealing with the creatures. They didn’t ask questions, didn’t look at Newt like he was incomplete. They didn’t expect anything of him, never had, and Newt allowed that to comfort him.
“Would you like to stay in here a little longer? I’ll go up and make dinner.”
Newt looked up from the graphorn foal he was petting, his gaze settling on Percival’s chin.
“If that’s no bother?” Truth be told Newt didn’t want to leave the suitcase yet. Everything was so confusing and unsettling, and at last inside the suitcase Newt’s skin didn’t feel so tight and his life not so foreign.
“Of course, take all the time you need.” Percival paused and wiped his palms in his slacks, unconcerned about getting straw and dust on the fine material. Once done he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, like he didn’t trust himself not to reach out. “A copy of your book is in the shed, if you want to look at that.”
“Thank you.”
They smiled at each other for a second. It felt stilted and awkward and Newt’s face dropped as soon as Percival turned. He watched his husband’s retreating back and sighed, curling into himself.
“Oh Pickett, this is such a mess.”
The bowtruckle chittered softly and his leaves tickled Newt’s cheek in a whispering touch of comfort.
***
Percival forced one foot in front of the other, no matter how weak his knees felt as he stepped out of the suitcase. The silence of the apartment rung in Percival’s ears, leaving too much room for his thoughts.
By the time Percival made it to the kitchen he felt like his knees were going to buckle. He put his hands flat on the counter and leaned his weight on them, his head falling forward as he closed his eyes. His exhale came out like a low keen in the back of his throat and an invisible hand was pushing down between his shoulderblades.
He’d done his best to push his own demons aside, to be there for his husband, but in the quiet of the kitchen it all came rushing in, like a door had opened in his mind. The image of Newt on the ground, still and pale, was burnt into Percival’s mind along with the way his chest had seized up and his heart had stood still for what had seemed like minutes as he’d thought his husband dead.
And now Newt was shy and skittish around him, like they’d never known each other, like they hadn’t shared a life for years now. It hurt more than Percival could’ve ever imagined. At first he’d been glad that Newt was healthy –heck, that he was alive!– and had told himself that he’d be able to cope with anything else.
Well. He wasn’t. Nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the feeling of his own husband, the person most precious to him in the universe, looking at him with not a spark of recognition in his eyes. The man who had sought the comfort of his arms whenever he felt distressed now flinched away from him.
And worst of all, Newt remembered people and beasts, but he didn’t remember Percival.
It felt like Percival’s ribs had been punched in and his heart torn out, leaving a gaping and raw hole behind.
His breathing came in huge, heaving gasps, like he’d been running for hours, and his heartbeat galloped in his chest, like a stallion kicking its hoof against his ribcage. The more he attempted to calm himself the more he hyperventilated, until his head was starting to spin and the rushing of blood in his ears turned into a deafening roar. His eyes were firmly squeezed shut and in the darkness around him Percival was lost, pulled under and unravelling at the seams.
“–ival!”
There was a pressure on his shoulders, fingertips digging in, and a voice that cut through Percival’s screaming thoughts.
“Fucks sake, Percival! Percy!”
He was yanked back from the counter and Percival’s eyes flew open. He drew in a heaving gasp of air, like a man who’d been underwater for too long.
“Shit, mate. C’mon, sit down.”
Percival blinked his eyes to clear his vision and allowed himself to be led to a chair, sinking down into it on autopilot. Theseus’ face swam into focus, the man peering up at him with furrowed brows. The line of his lips was hard and his eyes were wide, frightened. It looked wrong. Theseus was never frightened.
“Take a sip of water.” Theseus conjured a glass and pressed it to Percival’s lips, tipping it a little and only allowing him small sips at a time. The cool liquid running down his throat made Percival aware of the fact that he was drenched in sweat and shivering at the same time. It took him back to the long days of his recovery, when Grindelwald’s whispers had haunted him and brought him to the brink of collapse within the blink of an eye.
“Easy.” Theseus put the glass down on the floor and rested a careful hand on Percival’s knee. “Better?”
Percival nodded, not trusting his voice to obey his commands yet.
“Shit, man, what was that? What happened?”
Dropping his gaze Percival swallowed against the lump in his throat and wiped at his eyes, trying not to be mortified by the wetness he found there.
“My apologies.” Percival’s voice felt like sandpaper and he ran a hand through his hair. Elbows on his knees he dropped his head and laced his fingers together behind his back, focusing on a crack in the wooden floor. In an unfortunate series of events Newt had dropped his iron cauldron a few days ago and they hadn’t gotten around to repairing the floor so far.
“Percy?” Theseus carefully combed his fingers through Percival’s hair.
“I just.” Percival swallowed and licked his chapped lips. “He doesn’t...what if he never remembers me?” He asked, feeling anxiety flaring back to life in his chest. “What if he never remembers me and doesn’t want me anymore? What if...what if they can’t repair his mind? It’ll...it’ll be my fault that he lost years of his life.” He raised his gaze to look at Theseus, desperate for answers he knew nobody could give him. “That spell was intended for me and instead he got hurt. I promised to protect him and I couldn’t. What if...what if it had been a different spell? They...they could’ve killed him and I would’ve stood by and let them !”
He could feel himself growing agitated again. Theseus’ hand moved and squeezed his neck, the pressure anchoring Percival in the moment.
“You couldn’t have known. Not even I’m holding it against you and you know what that means, right? I know you’d protect my brother with your life, Perce. Everyone knows that. But, as much as I hate to admit it, we can’t protect him from everything and there was nothing, absolutely nothing you could’ve done.”
Percival opened his mouth to protest, because he should’ve done better , but Theseus shook his head.
“No, I don’t want to hear any protests. And I understand that this is a horrible situation, but you need to stop this little pity party. Newt doesn’t remember you, and that’s horrible. But he doesn’t remember most of the good things in his life, Percival. That clue you into anything? That kid thinks you hung the moon, and he looks at you like you’re the rarest creature on the planet. You’re the best thing in his life, as much as it pains me to admit that, so of course he wouldn’t remember anything about you. Not if the spell was created to take the good things away.”
Giving a jerky nod Percival took a few even breaths, forcing his hands to stop shaking. Theseus was right, there was no point wallowing; he had to deal with the situation as it was.
“And if you think he isn’t going to remember you, or wouldn’t fall in love with you all over again, you’re even stupider than I thought. Which should be impossible, but alas, you strife to outdo yourself.” Theseus cracked a smile and Percival felt his own lips twitch in return.
“Right.” Theseus straightened up with a groan. “I’ll go get dinner and you go clean yourself up. You look terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“Yes, well, allow me my moment of triumph. You’re such a dapper bastard, I have to take my victories where I can. At least today I can write in my diary that I finally looked much better than you.”
Percival snorted and got to his feet. He still felt unsteady, but not on the verge of losing it like he had before. “As happy as I am that you have something to tell your diary, that’s not what I meant. Thank you for-” he made an all encompassing gesture with his hand and Theseus nodded, clapping his shoulder. Even after all these years they weren’t all that great at talking about feelings.
“Anytime. Now shoo.” Theseus waved his hand and Percival made his way to the bathroom, trying to fit the pieces of himself that had broken and scattered back together.
***
Newt turned onto his side and pulled the blanket over his head with a huff. He stayed like that for a few seconds, the air beneath the blanket hot and stuffy, and then he kicked it off with a sound of frustration. He was tired but sleep was evading him, his thoughts spinning and turning around the things he did and didn’t know and the things he really, really wanted to know.
During dinner Theseus had given him an update on what had happened in the past few years. It had felt like he was talking about someone else’s life, reminding Newt of their mother when she’d been telling stories about the neighbours.
Percival had looked a little worse for wear when Newt had emerged from the suitcase, but he’d continued to treat Newt like he was a precious occamy egg, handling him with the utmost care. He’d left the bedroom to Newt, opting to sleep on the couch instead so Newt wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Newt wasn’t used to people being so considerate of his needs, and Percival’s soft smile and sad eyes had caused an ache to settle deep inside his chest.
Now, hours later in the dark, the ache was still there and Newt sat up. There was no point in twisting and turning. The longer he lay in the dark and mulled the day over in his thoughts, the more he became aware of the itching at the back of his mind, like all his memories sat there locked away in a box that Newt had lost the key to. It was frustrating, and Newt wanted to scratch at his skin where it felt too tight.
Incapable of staying still a moment longer he jumped out of bed and padded towards the kitchen. Maybe his future self kept some calming tea in the kitchen.
The table lamp in the living room was still on and soft light spilled out into the corridor. Newt kept his steps light as he approached and peered into the room. Percival had transformed the couch into a bed and sat propped up against the headboard, a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. They made him look softer somehow, more vulnerable as he looked at the book in his lap but didn’t turn the page. A bone-weary sigh left his lips and he pushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead where they were falling over his eyes.
Something tugged on Newt’s insides and he stepped into the living room like a moth drawn to the flame. The floorboards creaked under his steps and Percival looked up.
“Can’t sleep either?” He asked and closed the book. Newt shook his head and stopped by the foot of the bed. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and wrung his hands, not quite sure what he should do or say.
Thankfully Percival didn’t seem to mind Newt’s awkwardness –he probably had years of experience with it because Newt doubted that he’d become any less awkward– and patted the bed next to him. Newt gingerly sat down and tried not to overthink that they sat so close together that he could smell Percival, a faint wisp of his cologne under the clean scent of soap.
“How’re you doing?”
Newt shrugged and rolled the hem of his pajama shirt between his fingers. “I’m...I feel alright, but then I don’t? It’s like an itch I can’t scratch. Not remembering, I mean. It’s rather uncomfortable.”
Out of the corner of his eyes Newt could see Percival nodding.
“Not long anymore until the mind healer is going to see you.” Percival’s hand tentatively wrapped around Newt’s and squeezed. Warmth surged through Newt’s body and he didn’t pull back, Percival’s palm warm against his own. “I’m sure they’ll be able to help you.”
“You think?” Newt bit his bottom lip and dared to briefly raise his gaze.
“Yes.” Percival held Newt’s hand a little tighter, a promise in itself. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it work. One of the things I lo-...like about you is your ability to go with whatever life throws at you. I’ve always admired you for that.”
Newt ducked his head. It seemed unfathomable that a man like Percival would admire someone like Newt for anything.
“I suppose so.” Newt had learnt to adjust to life early because he’d always been different, the rhythm of his life out of tact with that of the other children.
Percival was still holding his hand and Newt’s palm was starting to feel sweaty as nervousness gnawed on his mind.
“I hate that my mind feels so...scrambled.” Newt pulled his hand back to rub at the back of his neck. It almost felt like an earthquake had taken place in his head, the remains of his mind and his memories shaky and unstable and partly collapsed. “I can’t tell if things I know really happened or if I made them up.”
Newt flinched in surprise when Percival ran a hand through his hair, pushing some wayward strands away from Newt’s eyes. Belatedly he jerked his hand back, like he hadn’t thought about the action at all and had reached out on instinct. His eyes were unsure and his smile tight when Newt glanced at him.
“How about some tea? Might do us both good,” Percival suggested and Newt nodded gratefully.
***
The tea had helped him sleep, but no miraculous recovery took place overnight. When Newt woke up it was with the same patchwork recollection of his life and a lingering sense of having lost something valuable.
Breakfast with Percival was slightly uncomfortable, the conversation stilted where Newt suspected it should’ve been flowing easily. They had been married for years, after all. Incapable of facing his failures and the disappointment he must be to Percival any longer, Newt excused himself and fled into his suitcase. The beasts were fantastic and captivating, and studying their colourful scales, running his fingers through soft fur, was much better than thinking about the mess his life currently was.
When Newt sat down to continue reading his book, Pickett the bowtruckle made himself comfortable on Newt’s head, rearranging his hair into what would probably become a nest.
“I can’t believe I wrote all that,” Newt said, stroking his fingers over the illustration of a diricrawl. “I can’t believe I’ve visited all these places.” Atop his head Pickett chittered, his tone that of a proud mother.
The hours flew by and Newt was sitting on the ground, watching the niffler as it pulled shiny things from its pouch and showed them proudly to him, when Percival stepped out of the shed.
“He giving you an update on his hoard?” Percival smiled. The niffler turned at the sound of his voice and rushed towards Percival with a happy squeak, clambering up the man’s leg. Percival caught him with practiced ease and the niffler held up a silver pocket watch.
“Thanks, buddy. But I’m still off work tomorrow, so you can keep it another night if you want.”
The niffler’s black eyes moved from Percival to the pocket watch as he considered the offer. Eventually he shook his head and thrust the pocket watch at Percival.
“Want me to hide it for you?” Percival took the watch and slipped into the pocket of his trousers, grinning when the niffler nodded. “Right then, I’ll try and make it extra difficult.”
The niffler gave a happy squeak, his stubby tail wagging when Percival stroked over his back before setting him down. Catching Newt watching them his smile softened. “It’s a game we play.”
“Ah.” Newt nodded and got to his feet, dusting off the back of his trousers. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”
“No need to worry. I just came down to ask if you wanted to stay in here for dinner?” Percival gestured towards a small table standing on a makeshift patio in front of the shed. “Queenie dropped by and brought sandwiches from Kowalski’s.”
It was ridiculous, but Newt very much didn’t want to leave the suitcase. He felt safe in here, less unsettled than he did in the apartment. “If...if you don’t mind, I’d like that.”
“Sure.” With a snap of Percival’s fingers the food appeared on the table.
“How are you feeling?” He asked Newt once they’d sat down, glancing up from the sandwich he was unwrapping.
“I’m...alright, I suppose.” Newt inspected his own sandwich, lifting the bread on top and finding roast beef settled between lettuce and other vegetables. It smelt delicious. “The beasts are a good distraction.”
“Mhm.” Percival nodded and they ate in silence for a while, the chirps and croaks of the beasts the only sounds.
“Theseus sent an owl to say that he’s in England for the day to do some more research. He’ll drop by tomorrow morning for breakfast.”
Newt nodded, his attention on the pastry Percival had put on his plate. It looked like a demiguise. “Is this from a magic bakery?” Newt asked and took a bite, almost moaning in pleasure at how good it tasted.
“No, it’s from Jacob’s bakery,” Percival said before he pulled a face at the careless way he’d said it. “Sorry. You probably don’t remember. Jacob is a no-maj you met when you first came to New York. A lot of his creations are based on your creatures.”
That sounded delightful and Newt was tempted to ask Percival if they could visit the bakery. But the thought of going outside, and meeting a person he was friends with but couldn’t remember was too much. He didn’t want to see another disappointed face.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted before he knew it, staring down at his plate and pushing the pastry crumbs together into a neat pile.
“What for?” Percival put the niffler pastry he’d been eating down on his plate.
Everything , Newt wanted to say. Instead he said: “For being a disappointment.” Percival was a good man, he deserved better than having his husband replaced with an awkward man with no memories.
“Newt.” Percival didn’t sound annoyed, but there was an edge to his voice that made Newt look up from his pile of crumbs. After a few seconds Percival reached out, giving Newt enough time to pull away should he have wished to do so, and took his hand.
“You’re never a disappointment,” Percival said, his tone leaving no room for arguments. “Never. And none of this is your fault. If anything it’s mine, I should’ve watched out for you.” His last words wavered a little, the steel in his voice replaced by something closer to guilt, and Newt shook his head.
“It may not be my fault, but it isn’t yours either. I’m not sure of many things these days, but I’m sure of that.” Newt lightly squeezed Percival’s hand. “And maybe I’m not a disappointment, but I’m not your husband either, am I?”
“Of course you are.” Wrinkles appeared on Percival’s forehead as he frowned and his grip tightened. “Of course you are my husband, unless you don’t want to be?”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just...I don’t remember anything, and I’m terribly awkward and most likely nothing like the Newt you married and-” Newt’s ramblings were cut short by Percival getting to his feet and tugging Newt along, pulling him into a hug. It was loose enough that Newt could’ve easily pulled away should he have wished to, but firm enough that Newt felt safely encased. It was as if muscle memory kicked in at the touch and Newt relaxed.
“I hate to break it to you, darling, but you’ve always been awkward.” Percival’s voice rumbled in his chest and his hand rubbed slow circles on Newt’s back. “Endearingly awkward, but not a split personality, so you need to stop referring to yourself as if there are several version of you. You’re still the same man I fell in love with, and you not remembering won’t change that.”
Something warm and tingling unfurled in Newt’s chest, running through him until the tips of his fingers and his toes were curling with it. He pulled back a little and looked at Percival, for the moment not even shy about their close proximity. He’d expected annoyance, impatience, maybe anger for being a failure, but he hadn’t expected compassion and patience and such...such unconditional love. A shiver ran through his body.
“I love you very much, don’t I?”
Percival huffed a laugh and cupped one of Newt’s cheeks, his thumb stroking over the skin under his eye. “Only you know that, but I would hope that you do,” he said, the corner of his lips curling into a wry smile.
“I think I do.” Newt tilted his head into the touch. It felt right . “I don’t know how I know it, but I do. My mind doesn’t remember you, but my heart does.”
The expression on Percival’s face was so hopeful that Newt leaned forward. Right before his lips grazed Percival’s he stopped, a thought crossing his mind.
“You’ve probably kissed me many times before, but this’ll be my first kiss.”
“It’s not often you get a second chance at a first kiss.” They were so close that Newt could feel Percival’s breath on his lips. “So you better remember this one.”
Newt smiled despite the nervousness building in his stomach, and leaned in.
***
Later, when three exhausting sessions with a mind healer had restored Newt’s memories and left him with no long term damage except for infrequent headaches, he remembered both of his first kisses with Percival in great detail. The curse had had some nice side effects, at last.