Chapter Text
Six months had passed since Newt had slipped onto the boat and away from New York and Tina. He was still working on his book, Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them, all while taking care of his creatures in a shabby old flat in London. Newt didn’t need much out of his flat, usually choosing to spend more time in his home in the trunk, all he needed were some basic appliances and somewhere to sit and write when he needed time away from his creatures. The book was almost ready to be published and only needed some final touches before it was ready to be taken to a publisher, and surprisingly it was the final edits that were taking much longer than writing the book itself. It was easy for Newt to babble off about his beloved creatures, it was hard for him to refine said babbling into an understandable guide for the everyday witch or wizard.
Newt was outside of the trunk for the first time in two days now, tending to Pickett during another fit of cold. He absentmindedly sketched with his free hand, drawing a cloud of greys and reds, something he would come to realise was Credence's obscurus form as it ripped through New York.
Pickett had only just settled into the curve of his neck when the two knocks sounded through the silence of the tiny flat, making Newt snap out of his daze. Pickett chirruped on his shoulder and slipped into his pocket, having been startled by the knocks. Newt hadn’t stood to open the door yet however, just staring at it with furrowed brows. No one ever came to visit him here and last he had checked it was three hours past midnight. He gave a flick of his wand as he finally went to stand, letting the candle float gently to sit on the table in case it was a muggle behind the door.
Newt slowly walked over to the door, hushing Pickett as he went. He had been admittedly slightly paranoid after the events of New York, after battling with Grindelwald and the impromptu torture session the man had inflicted upon him. But he pushed that aside, chuckling quietly. It was probably nothing, maybe even a next door neighbour coming to check on him. He had been holed up for two days anyway…
All the quiet thoughts slipped his mind when Newt finally opened the door and saw him, standing on his doorstep. White as a ghost, swaying on his feet, a dead man.
Newt barely had time to register what was happening when the boy's knees gave out under him and Newt had sprung forward to catch him, sending them both to the ground but with Credence cradled safely in his arms.