Work Text:
They sat in the dark, quiet. Thinking. Newt listened to his heart beating. Anathema curled her toes into the carpet.
“I—” Newt started to say, but Anathema stopped him with a soft touch on his bare ankle.
“Candles,” she said firmly. “Candles everywhere. And if we don’t want to move, we might even think about having a fireplace put in.”
Newt looked up, startled, even though he couldn’t actually see. “You’re not…mad?”
Her laugh almost lit up the room. “I come from a long line of witches. Who am I to judge? Besides, I don’t want you to change.”