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Credence climbed down the ladder slowly, unwilling to set his wand down in order to make the trip easier. The case was busy as always, several creatures crowded around him as soon as his feet touched ground and he stopped to give them a little attention. He was in no way equal to Newt in their eyes but they seemed to like him in their own ways and he liked to reward that.
But he wasn’t here to play. Not today.
As soon as he could, he left them behind and headed further into the case, following the lilt of Newt’s voice.
He could listen to Newt talk to his creatures for hours. Had done so, before. When they were traveling and he hadn’t been allowed to leave the case. When he’d been too scared to do anything but hide and try not to be a bother. He’d sit in a corner and listen to Newt work through his routine. Listen to the easy way he spoke to the creatures. The gentle encouragements he gave them. The friendships he seemed to have with them. He’d sit and listen and wish there was half a chance he’d ever have anything like that for himself.
He rounded the corner to Newt, crouching over the Bowtruckles, trying to coax Pickett into spending some time with creatures of his own kind. Newt glanced up and beamed when he saw Credence standing there, like it was the best thing he’d seen all day. It was enough to make Credence’s stomach turn somersaults.
“There you are,” he said, holding out a hand and gesturing Credence closer. “Come and help me talk some sense into this little one.”
“I’m not sure I can do that,” Credence said, sliding closer. Pickett was eying him suspiciously and when he got close enough the creature made it’s way over to him, swinging itself onto his hand. Credence didn’t try to stop it.
“You’re as bad as each other,” Newt said, though there was a twinkle in his eye and he sounded anything other than disappointed. “How was the lesson?”
Of course, his first lesson. Credence beamed and raised his wand. “Lumos,” he whispered, and it immediately lit up, bathing the Bowtruckles in a gentle light. Even Pickett looked a little impressed with him.
“Wonderful,” Newt said, low and breathy. “Just wonderful.”
“It’s not that impressive.” Credence blushed. “Albus said I had to start somewhere, though. He left me some books to read.”
“It’s marvelous,” Newt said, wrapping his hand around Credence’s free hand. “Your first spell. I’m sure you’ll be blowing us all away in no time.”
“Thank you,” Credence said, blushing a little. For a second the light seemed to spark brighter. For a second it seemed like Newt might lean in just a little more. That Credence might lean in just a little more. It’s be easy to do, to let their lips brush. Just once. He was sure he could think of a reasonable excuse for why he’d done it.
But Newt was already pulling back.
“I’ve had a thought. Come with me!”
Newt reached out his hand though Newt was already moving away. Always moving. Credence had to be fast to take Newt's hand. To allow himself to be pulled under tarps and through rooms. A lot of the creatures looked at them as they passed but just as many ignored them. Newt didn’t stop to pet any anyway, just pulled Credence forward until they ducked under a tarp and ended in complete darkness.
“There,” Newt said, hand still warm in Credence’s. “Cast it now.”
Credence hesitated. But if Newt told him to do it, it must be safe. He held out his wand.
“Lumos.”
His wand was like a flickering candle in the darkness and for a moment nothing happened, then there was an answering flicker. And then another. And another. And then many. Like tens of wands lighting up only then they started to move. Started to fly lazy circles around Credence and they weren’t wands. They were tiny insects.
Well, insect was probably too strong a word for it. They were tiny, sentient balls of light.
One of them brushed against his cheek. It was a little warm and felt like a tiny jolt of lightening but in a nice way. The contact startled a laugh out of him.
He actually laughed.
It’d been so long…
And then Newt was leaning in close to him and in the dull lights he could see the man was beaming.
Credence had done something well.
He’d finally done something well.