Work Text:
Newt was gripping the suitcase so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Somehow, this felt like the most perilous part of the journey. He'd been able to rely on anti-muggle charms to get himself through customs but now...
Hogwarts loomed high in front of him. He didn't remember it being this tall when he was here last. Maybe it was different when you looked at it as a student. He wouldn't put it past a building so soaked with magic to alter itself depending on who was looking at it. To reflect the person who was looking at it. He wondered if the founders had built such a mechanism in or if it might come about naturally by magical saturation of the bricks.
He was stalling.
He took another careful step forward to the main door. Lifted a hand to knock but before he could it swung open.
The entrance hall looked deserted so he shuffled in, clearing his throat as he did. He wasn't exactly sure where to go from here. Well, he knew who he needed to see but he didn't know the procedure for visiting the school but in these times of crisis should he be allowed to just walk in. Shouldn't he...
"Mr Scamander."
Newt's back straightened, his hold on his bag tightened. In a moment, he felt 14 again and out of his dorm after hours.
"Mrs Barkley."
"How kind of you to grace us with your presence," the elderly witch said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "But I though you were excluded from this establishment."
"Well, yes," Newt shuffled. He tried to make his eyes find her face, she'd always hated that he didn't hold eye contact, but he couldn't quite do it. "Yes. You might say that. But I'm not here as a student. I'm here...ah. That is, I'm here to..."
"He's here to visit me, Agnes. You may stand down."
"Albus," Mrs Barkley said, if anything her tone seemed even more distasteful.
"Newt," Dumbledore said, bypassing her entirely. "Good to see you again my boy. I only received your owl a few hours ago, you must have fairly flown up here yourself."
"Well," Newt laughed, aware that it was forced and would sound it.
"You must come up at once," Dumbledore cut in, saving Newt from having to find a way to continue his sentence. "I have a fine firewhiskey I think you'll enjoy and I am, of course, excited to hear what you've come to share with me."
"Right," Newt said, striding quickly to the steps. "Right, let's get on with it then."
"Are you sure you don't need me to come with you, Albus," Mrs Barkley said. "Surely if this is a matter that requires an expelled student to come bounding into our halls so late in the evening, it's something we would be better to face together."
"Oh, no need," Newt said, sharply. She raised an eyebrow and he hated that. Hated how people seemed to read his so easily - see right through to how flustered and uncertain he was, standing there with the case in his hand. The truth was, he really wasn't sure what he'd do if this didn't work out. Try to sort it out himself, he supposed.
"It's no matter, Agnes," Dumbledore said, reaching Newt and laying a hand on his arm. "I merely asked Newt to find the answers to some questions for me during his recent visit to America. A conscientious boy, he has clearly rushed here at the first opportunity to fulfill my curiosity."
She snorted at conscientious but her shoulders eased a little. Newt was very aware that her poor opinion of them and any interest they might have in common was working in their favor now.
"Well, if you insist," she said. Before either of them could insist she turned, nose in the air, and began her ascent back to her common room. Newt couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.
“Quite,” Dumbledore said, under his breath so Mrs Barkley wouldn’t hear it. “Now, if you’ll follow me.”
Newt followed.
Professor Dumbledore seemed to live in the same place he had when Newt was here last. A small, drafty set of rooms high up in an old tower. He’d been there a few times as a student. He and Dumbledore had gotten on moderately well. The other man had clearly seen something in him and tried to channel it into something productive.
He hadn’t been notably successful in that.
When they reached the professor’s sitting room, Newt went straight to the table and lay his case gently on top of it.
He’d made it.
“Well,” Dumbledore said, walking past him. “Shall we begin.”
“Yes, professor,” Newt said. He thumbed the latch of the case. Half of him was already contemplating lifting the thing up and running. That wouldn’t be too difficult, right? Just going.
“Albus, Newt. We’re adults now, call me Albus.”
“Yes. Albus. Right. Can I…I mean…”
“You came here to show me something? A creature?”
Newt laughed. In a manner of speaking, he supposed that would be a way to look at it. Dumbledore was obviously expecting something strange and wild, which was, to be fair, what he tended to carry around with him. Creature, beasts, they were all easier than humans. They didn’t see his awkwardness in the same way.
“It’s maybe better if I show you,” he said, flipping the latch.
“Please don’t let anything dangerous into my sitting room.”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Newt edged. He couldn’t exactly claim that Credence was safe, after all.
He knocked on the lid. Four times, their agreed signal, then lifted the lid and stepped back.
Credence emerged slowly, as though he was contemplating just sliding back down the ladder and refusing to come out. Newt wouldn’t blame him, had contemplated much the same thing himself before. And, well, there might be a small part of him that would have liked to keep Credence locked away in the trunk. They’d come to an odd kind of peace and friendship on their journey and he was loath to break it.
But they were here for a reason.
He offered Credence a hand when he was high enough and soon he was standing, awkward and hunched, at Newt’s side. Dumbledore, to his credit, didn’t show any of the surprise he must have been feeling.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead, rising. “Just allow me a second to order an extra cup of tea from the house elves.”
Newt nodded quickly, unable to quite let go of Credence’s arm, and watched as his old professor swept from the room. If he was actually going to inquire about tea or to quietly panic about the mess Newt had just dumped no his lap, Newt wasn’t sure.
Either way fine, really. Newt couldn’t blame him.
“Newt,” Credence said, hand tightening on Newt’s sleeve.
“Well…welcome to Hogwarts, I suppose.”
Credence nodded, looking around as though he expected the furniture to start dancing or something to come out and bite him. It was…well, Newt didn’t want to say adorable as Credence was very nearly a full grown man and his friend but he was also slightly adorable. Something about the way he looked right now made Newt wanted to pull him close and hold him tight and care for him - though that was probably just his inner Hufflepuff talking.
“You went to school here?”
“For a time, yes. Come on, let’s sit. I’m sure the professor will be back soon.”
Credence nodded then allowed himself to be slowly lead to a chair. He still looked uncertain about the entire thing but he moved where Newt directed him and settled, admittedly stiffly, onto the couch. Newt sat down next to him and then gave in to his impulse to comfort and took Credence’s free hand, the one that wasn’t clutched in Newt’s clothing.
“Credence,” he said, softly. “This is going to be okay. We’re here to help you. Albus, he’s probably the smartest man I know.”
Credence nodded slowly, gripping Newt’s hand back. “I just…this is so strange. I don’t…”
“Don’t worry,” Newt said again. He wished he’d only taken Credence’s hand with one of his so he’d have an arm free to loop around the other man’s shoulder and pull him close. Of course, it was probably a good thing that he didn’t so that. For some reason, he wouldn’t want Dumbledore to walk in and see that.
The thought was stupid, of course. It would be a hug between friends. That was all.
But, still, he didn’t want Dumbledore to see it.
The door opened again and Credence jumped a little but it was only Albus, levitating a tray in front of him. Credence watched it, body tense. He’d seen Newt do enough magic at this point that he should probably be more used to it but, then, Newt supposed there was a difference between someone you know using magic in front of you and a stranger.
“Well,” Dumbledore said, sitting down and lifting the teapot. “Am I to presume this is Credence Barebone?”
“How did you know?” Credence asked, curling back into the couch and ducking his head.
“We do have newspapers in England,” Albus said, something of a twinkle in his eye. “And the two of you did manage to cause quite a commotion in New York.”
“News travels fast,” Newt said.
“Indeed. More and more each day. So, why have you come to me?”
Newt straightened. Credence only seemed to sink further back into his seat and Newt had to fight the urge to embrace him again.
“Albus, you’re one of the most powerful wizards I know. You know what Credence is, correct?”
“An obscurial.”
“Yes. I managed to remove one before. A girl in Africa but…she didn’t surrive the operation. I don’t want that outcome this time. Very much so. So I came to you. I have a procedure but it can always be improved and I thought with your help…”
“Wait.” Newt froze. Turned slowly to look at Credence. He didn’t look scared in the same way any more. He wasn’t cowering, he was rigid. His eyes were wide and his hands were frozen and he was staring at Newt like he didn’t know him at all. “Wait, you’re going to remove it.”
“I…yes…” Newt said, a little helplessly.
“The girl you did that to before…didn’t she die?”
“Yes,” Newt admitted. “But, Credence, this time it’ll be different. This time…”
But Credence was already withdrawing from him. Pulling his hands from Newt’s and that hurt more than he’d thought it would. He managed to tamp down on the desire to reach out and reclaim Credence’s touch but only just.
“I don’t want to die.”
“You won’t,” Newt said, softly. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Newt, please don’t promise things you’re not sure you can deliver on,” Dumbledore said, steadily. Newt spared him a glance before turning back to Credence. Credence who looked like he’d been struck.
“You want to hurt me.”
“No, never,” Newt said, risking the gently brush of a raised hand against Credence’s jaw. Credence pulled back from the touch. “I want to help you. You can’t live with this, Credence. If you let us help you, your magic should come back, with time. You’ll be able to learn magic, isn’t that what you want? And we’ll finally have a way to help other young wizards and witches in your unfortunate position.”
“You want to prefect your procedure.”
“Well, I do. Of course.”
“You’re using me.”
“No.”
“You’re just like him!” Credence yelled. And as he did there wass suddenly a whispy quality to him. A sense of his edges coming away a little. The obscurus.
“Credence, no. I’m your friend, Credence.”
“He said that. He said he’d help me. Make me a wizard. He said he cared but he didn’t.” Credence was shaking now. “He only wanted to hurt me. To use me. Everyone just…”
And he was shaking and hurting and Newt could barely stand it. He was an idiot. He should have talked about this before. Should have been more honest. A better friend.
He didn’t know how to fix it.
“I’m sorry,” Newt said, softly. “We don’t have to, Credence. Not if you don’t want.”
But Credence didn’t seem to be listening any more. He stood, clutching his head. He still seemed blurred somehow. Out of the corner of his eyes, Newt saw Albus reach for his wand and moved to stand between the two of them.
They shouldn’t have come here. He should have taken Credence somewhere else. Anywhere else. Focused on control. This wasn’t going to work.
“Young man,” Albus said in his most authoritative teaching voice. “I’m going to need you to calm down.”
Credence let out a sob that tore directly at the lining to Newt’s heart, then suddenly he was moving. Stumbling towards the door. Albus stood but Newt moved to block him again as Credence pulled the door open.
“Newt?”
“It’s fine. Just let him…”
And Credence was out of the door.
***
They were going to kill him. He was going to die here and Newt was going to kill him and he’d come so far and he’d trusted Newt and now…
He wanted to scream. Wanted to rage and throw things. He could feel the anger inside him, lashing. Could feel the monster inside him. It would be so easy to let it loose. So easy to destroy this entire school. To destroy everything. He could kill them all. He really could. He could wash every lie Newt had ever told him from his skin.
He could.
He should have known better. He should have known not to trust. He’d always been hurt before when he’d given in and trusted others. He always regretted it but then, like an idiot, he went out and did it again. Like he had no control over his own actions.
Over his own heart.
He’d wanted to badly for Newt to be his. To be telling the truth.
He just wanted.
The anger was easier to focus on than the hurt, but he didn’t really want to destroy the school. He wasn’t sure what he wanted other than to not be here - but he didn’t know the way out. He walked, turned in on himself, looking back over his shoulder, but it seemed like every corridor he entered was just like the last one. He could almost feel Newt behind him and something in him just wanted to stop. To turn back. To give Newt another chance.
He needed to stop giving people second chances to hurt him.
He needed…
He needed to hurt someone. There was just too much. It was thrumming in him. Fighting him at every step and he just wanted it out. All the hatred and pain. Out and away from him. But he couldn’t. Because that would kill him. So maybe he should just let it kill him.
Maybe he should just give in.
Was it better to die trying to get rid of the rage or to let the rage have him? Let it burn him up from the inside until there wasn’t anything left any more?
He stumbled, fell to his knees. He was shaking now, too badly to get up, so he shoved himself back against the wall. Brought his legs up to his chest and jammed his head between them. He used to do this in New York. When he’d done something that he knew would lead to a punishment but he didn’t want to face up to it. He’d curl up and hope it’d work. Hope he could make himself small enough, worthless enough, that mother wouldn’t notice.
She always found him.
Newt was going to find him.
He hated Newt. He should. He should hate Newt who was using him. Newt who didn’t care about him. Had never cared about him.
Who might kill him.
Who wanted something more for him than this. This rage and pain.
No. No. It was wrong and he was wrong and…
It was close. He could feel the stirring in his gut he’d felt before. He’d felt it before he killed mother. Before he’d killed the other man who’d insulted them. The roll of hatred and fear and rage rage rage.
He was going to destroy this castle and he was going to kill Newt and then he was going to burn up and be gone and that’d be the end of it and he didn’t want to die, he didn’t, but he couldn’t stop it.
He was going to kill them.
Something was touching him. He jerked, wiping his head up. He’d expected Newt. Or that other wizard, the one who’d looked at him like he was an experiment. Or a stain that they needed to get out.
It wasn’t, though. It wasn’t either of them.
It was the bowtruckle.
Sitting on the back of his hand, looking up at him like it couldn’t see all the ways that Credence was flying apart.
It watched him for a moment, tiny eyes fixed on his, then it lent over like this was a thing they did and hugged him.
It hugged him.
Credence felt a sob break out of his throat. He could barely feel it, the creature was so light, but it was hugging him. It didn’t know what he was. Didn’t know what he could do. It didn’t care. It wanted his friendship. It cared about him.
Something in this world cared about him.
Another sob came. He bent his head again, buried it in his arms. The bowtruckle tickled as it shifted to get a better grip. It had never hugged him before. It normally lived in Newt. He supposed it must have crossed over when they were pressed together on the couch. It must have come to him.
He didn’t know why, but it had come to him. Had trusted him.
He wanted to stop crying.
He wanted to live.
He wanted Newt.
As though summoned, Newt suddenly rounded the corner. His eyes were wide and his hair was ruffled and when he saw Credence he drooped, almost falling over in his rush to get closer. To kneel on the floor next to him and Credence only had to make the barest movement of acceptance before Newt’s arms were around him, pulling him close and tucking him into his chest.
They’d hugged rather more than Credence thought friends should normally hug on their journey, but still every time they did this it felt like the first time.
“Credence,” Newt breathed, joy in his tone. “You’re here. You’re okay. I was so worried. I’m so sorry.”
Credence opened his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he intended to say but he was still surprised at the words that came out. “I don’t want to die.”
“No,” Newt said, pulling back a little to meet Credence’s eye for a precious second before his gaze flickered away again. “No, of course not, my dear boy. Of course you don’t. I’m so sorry. I should have spoken to you before this. I should have made it clear where we were going and why. Should have given you the choice.”
“I’m sorry,” Credence said, though he wasn’t sure what he was sorry for this time. Everything, maybe. Existing.
“Please, please don’t be. I’m the one who made the mistake,” Newt said, and he sounded like he genuinely believed that.
“I should.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I’ll speak to Albus. We’ll go. We’ll find another way. It’s going to be okay.”
Credence shook his head. Newt jumped a little at the movement, pulled back around that Credence could reach up. Could catch Newt’s face in his hands.
“Credence.”
“If this works, I won’t be like this. I won’t be a bomb.”
“Yes.”
“You were right, then. We have to try.”
“Credence.”
“I can’t be like this. This is all…I don’t know what to do. But I trust you.” He was surprised by how much he meant it. Surprised by how easy it was to mean it. He knew he should still be angry, livid, but it just wasn’t in him.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” Credence said, gently stroking Newt’s cheek. He wished he could be closer but he couldn’t quite imaging how. Wished he was smaller so Newt could hold him closer.
He’d come close, so very close, to doing something he couldn’t come back from. He’d already hurt so many people. Too many people. If he was going to die anyway he’d rather die trying to make this better rather than by hurting others. Now the rage and pain had died back a little.
And maybe Newt was right. Maybe this would work. This time. Maybe they would find a way, together.
“If you’re sure,” Newt said, and then he lent over and pressed a kiss to Credence’s forehead. It was soft. Barely the suggestion of a brush of lips, and Credence’s gut twisted with how much he wanted it. How much he wanted more. He knew he couldn’t have more. Knew it was wrong to want more and that Newt was only a friend. Knew that maybe he was placing too much onto Newt - was too desperate for anyone to be kind for him. It had always been his problem. A few kind words and he crumpled.
But, maybe, if this worked, maybe he’d be able to learn. Maybe he could make himself useful. Maybe he could go with Newt and if he couldn’t have what he could barely admit he wanted, he could have a friend.
Slowly he stood. Newt stood with him.
“Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
***
Newt lead Credence back into the study to find Albus still sat in his chair, sipping his tea. There was a moment of eye contact then Albus’s eyes went to their joined hands. Lingered there just a second. Newt let him. Fought the urge to pull away.
This wasn’t going to be easy for any of them, he was going to offer Credence any kind of comfort he’d accept.
“I’ve been looking through your notebook,” Albus said, lifting it. Newt’s jaw clenched a little at that. He didn’t like the thought of someone going through it without him there.
Though, if he did publish, he suppose he’d have to get used to it.
“Do you think it’ll work.”
“I think it’s certainly worth a try. What do you say, Mr. Barebone?”
Newt glanced back to see Credence nod once, sharply.
“Excellent,” Albus said, standing. “Then let’s begin.”
Newt nodded. Swallowed. His hands were swetting so he withdrew them quickly from Credence’s so he wouldn’t notice. Wouldn’t do to panic the boy, after all.
Wouldn’t do to panic himself.
“Credence,” he said, laying his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If you sit, that would probably be for the best.”
Credence nodded and allowed himself to be lead to the couch. Allowed himself to be set down there. He was looking at Newt. His pupils were too large. His hands were trembling. But he wasn’t running. Wasn’t fighting.
Newt wished that there was any other way. But he wanted Credence to live. He was small and selfish and tired and being alone and he wanted Credence to live. Wanted them to stay together. He knew he probably wasn’t going to get that wish but he wanted it so badly.
Either way, he wanted Credence to live. The boy deserved it more than anyone, after everything he’d been through.
Albus moved to stand beside him. Pressed the book into his hand. “It’s your spell, Newt. I will be here for whatever support you need.”
“Thank you,” Newt said around the lump in his throat.
Credence was still looking at him. Silent but with hope in his eyes. The time was here.
“Credence,” he said, softly. “This may hurt. I’m sorry.”
A look of panic flashed over Credence’s face but settled quickly into reluctant agreement. “Make it fast.”
Newt nodded and took out his wand.
The spell was long and arduous. It was, in effect, the cutting away of the part of a person’s magic. Cutting away bad to make room for the growth of good, but still it felt inherently wrong. He took a breath, glanced to his book (though he’d memorised it all some time ago) and began weaving spells around them.
Credence sat in silence. He sat there, jaw clenched, long past when the last person Newt had attempted this on had begun to cry out in pain. Newt worked as quickly as he could, but Credence’s body fought him at every step. Made everything complicated. Albus stepped in a few times to reinforce a spell or to lay another piece that Newt hadn’t thought about.
The mist began to come out. Leaking reluctantly from Credence’s body.
“You’re doing so well,” Newt muttered, empty words of assurance that were met with blank eyes.
He would have been proud of his strong Credence was, how well he bore it, it he didn’t know the price his friend had paid for his tolerance to pain. How much he’d been forced to give to acquire this ability. Instead it just made him want to weep.
He didn’t even dare risk a comforting gesture. Not with what he was doing.
If the first of the mist was hard to extract, the last was almost impossible. Albus stepped forward then. Lent more magic, more support. The darkness didn’t want to leave, of course it didn’t. Newt forced it anyway. Pulled it. Pushed it. This was the crucial moment. It would be all too easy to tear something. To pull away something he shouldn’t. To let the darkness tear the body apart as it was extracted.
Blood began to run from Credence’s nose. Newt forced himself to ignore it. Later. He’d wipe it away later.
And then it gave.
The last strand slipped free and there was a beautiful moment where it coalesced over Credence, apart at last. Gone. And then, the mist rushed out. Filling the room for a second before, without Credence’s power behind it, dispersing into a true mist.
As the mist cleared, Newt saw Credence had fallen.
“No,” he said, throwing himself around the couch as quickly as he could. He knelt, took Credence’s face in his hands and gently stroked his cheeks.
“Credence. Credence, please.”
“Stand back.” Newt scrabbled to obey Albus. Sat there panting as his former professor whispered spells of protection and healing, his eyes riveted on Credence’s chest. Shallow, irregular breaths that became stronger. More regular. Better.
He was getting better.
“There,” Albus said, relaxing. “I believe, my friend, that he will live.”
Newt let out a burst of laughter.
He couldn’t believe it.
He’d done it!
***
Credence woke up slowly. First he was aware of noise. A clinking of cups. Low conversation. Then he became aware of the awkward way his body was twisted. The rough material under his cheek. He wasn’t in his bed. He was…
He opened his eyes.
Newt jumped to his feet almost instantly. Was rushing over before Credence realised quite what was happening. Was kneeling down beside him and reaching out to stroke his cheek.
“How do you feel?”
Credence blinked at him for a second then slowly, carefully, pushed himself up.
His back was hurting. He wondered how long he’d been lying there.
“About four hours. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it’s be so draining for you.” He must have asked out loud. Newt was looking at him, worried, so he forced a smile.
“Did it work?”
“It did.” A flash of pride across Newt’s face. He was getting better at reading those expressions. “How do you feel?”
Credence stopped to think about it. He felt just as he had before. A little sore. A little angry. There was the fear and the hate and the tiny rustle of hope that shot through him when Newt looked at him like he was worth something.
“Are you sure it worked. I feel the same.”
“It worked.” Credence’s eyes were drawn from Newt’s face to the room’s other occupant. The other man stood and stretched. He looked older, somehow, than he had before they started. “We removed the bad magic, but we didn’t change you. That, my friend, is a much longer journey.”
“Oh.” That made sense. He had hoped…but no. Of course it wouldn’t fix things that easily. “Can…can I do magic now?”
“Well, let’s see, shall we?” Albus said. He stood and walked across the room and Credence sat up. He drew down a box from a shelf and opened it. A wand lay inside. Like Newt’s. “This isn’t for you, obviously, so it won’t be perfect. But it should give us an idea.”
“The wand chooses the wizard,” Newt said, softly, into the shell of Credence’s ear. “We’ll take you to Diagon alley and get you one.” As though it was that easy. As though it was a foregone conclusion that this would work.
Albus held out the wand and he took it.
It didn’t feel like anything special.
“Here,” Albus said, reaching over to wrap his hand around it. “Move it, just a little. Like this.”
He moved Credence’s hand and, yes, there was something. Almost a tingling inside of him. A warmth he remembered from long ago. And then, weakly, a few sparks came from the end of the wand.
“Excellent,” Albus said, clapping. “Well, Mr. Barebone, it would seem congratulations are in order.”
“I’m a wizard.”
“You are,” Newt said, an arm coming to lay around his shoulder. “It worked and you are.”
Credence could almost have laughed. It worked. He was a wizard. Everything Graves had promised. Everything he’d wanted.
And Newt had been the one to give it.
“Thank you.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t thank anyone yet,” Albus interrupted. “I’m afraid things won’t be so simple. Operation or not, you’re still a wanted man. And Hogwarts has no provision for older students.”
“I’ll teach him,” Newt said, quickly.
“Mr Scamander, when exactly do you plan to make time to do that?”
“I’ll manage!”
“You’ll try,” Albus conceded with a tilt of his head. “But, I fear, you will not be successful. If I make make a suggestion?”
Newt nodded and Credence copied him. He didn’t like the tone of this conversation, though.
“There’s a set of rooms down the hall. They don’t connect to any other rooms and are quite well hidden. They are also empty. If Mr Barebone were to move into them for a period, I believe I could find time to teach him. I have access to all the proper equipment here. I could provide a good foundation and then, when he is more settled, he would of course be at liberty to do as he wanted.”
Credence let that sit with him for a second. Digest.
He was going to have to stay here. Alone. He couldn’t ask Newt to stay with him, of course. Newt had a lot of things to do.
“Actually, yes, that’s ideal,” Newt beamed. “I have a lot of material I need to edit. Writing and organising and things. I had thought to find a place in London to get it done but if I can stay here…”
“Newt. I didn’t invite you.”
Newt laughed and Credence loved the sound immediately. The joy of it. He found himself leaning in closer like he could absorb it.
“You want me to leave him here alone? I’m not going to do that. It’s as easy to hide us both as to hide one of us. And I won’t even let anything out of my suitcase.”
“Newt…”
“Trust me, Albus. This is a wonderful idea.”
It was at that point that it finally sunk in with Credence just what he was hearing. What was happening here.
He hadn’t had to ask. Hadn’t had to lay himself out like that. Everything he needed, Newt had given. Given without being asked for it. Given without any expectation of receiving any kind of payment for it.
His traitorous eyes almost wanted to cry.
“You don’t have to stay here with me. I’ll be fine, you know. You shouldn’t have to stay here just because I do.”
“Nonsense. It’ll do us both good to have a break, I think. And where would I rather be than with my friend?”
Newt’s arms were open even before Credence lent so it was absurdly easy to press his face into Newt’s shoulder. To let the tears that he couldn’t stop soak into Newt’s jacket.
They were going to stay.
“Well,” Albus said, and his tone sounded softer now though Credence didn’t give up his position to see the other man’s face. “I suppose that settles it. The rooms will need to be aired, of course. I’ll have the house elves make you up beds for tonight.”
“Oh, don’t go to any trouble,” Newt said. He waved his hands but didn’t make any move to stand up and leave Credence so Credence maintained his selfish hold. “One more night in the suitcase won’t hurt. And tomorrow, tomorrow we can go and find a wand.”
Credence had never heard anything sound so wonderful.