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It had seemed like a good idea at first. It was probably Minerva’s fault. She had a way of making things sound like an adventure. A fun adventure that Credence wanted to be on as opposed to a vaguely terrifying adventure that he wished he’d not bothered with.
She’d started talking about how he couldn’t just stay hidden away in his room and he needed to get out and see something of the world and he’d agreed with her there. He wouldn’t say he was actually free in New York but mother had had too much to do to keep track on his every moment and, like all the kids, he was trusted to distribute leaflets. He’d known his way around. He’d been in the same set of rooms for months. He was going a little crazy.
He just hadn’t accounted for the fact that her plan meant sneaking out. Meant breaking the rules.
The thing was, Newt was going to be back in a week. Credence had barely heard from him while he was gone. A quick note to say that communication might be harder than they thought and then nothing but the vague burn of Newt on his lips.
For two months.
He was feeling a little crazy. A little reckless. A little untethered.
It was only a trip into town, was the thing. Minerva said that they all deserved a drink and she’d said it in that long-suffering way and he hadn’t pushed her. Something must have happened. She deserved a drink. He wanted to get out.
So they’d broken the rules.
By the time they reached the bar his hands were sweating. Minerva kept telling him it wasn’t a bar, it was a pub. He didn’t know what the difference was. It was a den of ill repute. It was the kind of place that, if mother ever caught him there, he’d be in for the beating for his life.
Of course, now there wasn’t anyone to beat him. Just his own conscience and the knowledge that this was wrong and that if he’d run this plan past Newt, Newt would have almost definitely said no.
But Newt wasn’t here and he was so alone.
He wasn’t, of course. There was Albus. But Albus…sometimes he looked at Newt like he was a bomb that might blow them all up though he wasn’t any more. And sometimes he looked at Newt like he was something sad. Like it hurt Albus just to look at him. He didn’t know what to do with those looks. They weren’t pity, he’d seen that. They were something else and Credence wasn’t sure how to respond to it or if he even wanted it directed at himself.
So he studied and he waited for Newt and he argued with Minerva but he still felt like he was coming out of his skin.
So he’d said yes.
And he followed Minerva into the pub.
It was very much not what mother had warned him about. The place was small and close. There were tabled with stools clustered around them. A few were occupied by middle aged men with pipes and drinks on the tables.
It didn’t look much like a den of vice and sin.
Which, of course, didn’t mean Credence should be here. But, still. Minerva wasn’t paying attention to him but heading directly for the bar so he followed, being careful to keep his head down.
Nobody here was going to recognise him. Nobody could. He wasn’t important. It felt like he was being watched, though. The feeling was intense enough for him to speed up a little. To crowd a little closer to Minerva’s heels. She frowned at him but carried on to the bar. Leaning over it and gesturing.
An old man came down the bar and gave them both a questioning look.
“Two firewhiskeys, please,” Minerva said, apparently oblivious.
“Ain’t you a student,” the man said. “Don’t serve students.”
“Oh, come on,” she said, going up on her toes to lean on the bar a little. “Would we be down here if we were students? How’d we even get out of the school?”
“Don’t serve students,” the man said again, mouth set, and Credence felt something like relief. This man wasn’t going to serve them. They’d have to choice but to say that’d tried their best and turn and go back.
“Oh, go on,” Minerva said, pulling some money out of her pocket. “Who’s going to say anything.”
The man raised an eyebrow, picked up the money, then laughed and pushed it back into her hand. “Go home, you stupid kid.”
She bristled at that and Credence reached forward to grab the back of her robe, just in case. She gave him a glare as well for that but at least climbed back from the bar and settled for crossing her arms over her chest.
“What?”
“Let’s just go.”
“And let him win.”
“It’s his bar.”
“Pub.”
“Pub,” Credence agreed. He wasn’t sure what, if any, the difference was but she clearly wasn’t in a listening mood. "Just...let's just go," Credence said. He let his hand take a grip on Minerva's sleeve. "Let's get out of here."
He really needed to get out of there. It had seemed like, if not a good plan, a workable one, but the longer he spent here the more it was feeling like a huge mistake.
Minerva turned to him and for a moment he thought she was going to argue but she must have seen some of his reluctance on his face because her expression softened. She reached out and squeezed his elbow and it wasn't the contact he wanted or from the person he wanted but it was enough for now. He smiled at her and she sighed.
"Well, I suppose at least I got us out of the castle. Hold on here for a minute, I need to go to the bathroom. Then we'll go back."
He breathed a sigh of relief but it was still harder than it should have been to force his hand to let go of her sleeve.
He wished for a second, absurdely, that Newt was there. He didn't need Newt. He'd survived for years without Newt. But he wanted him there. Wanted someone to turn to who he knew would support him. Minerva was lovely but he knew that in her world he rated as a curiosity. The stranger she'd found in a secret room and they were friends too, but he wasn't her highest priority. Not that he thought he was Newt's highest priority or that he wanted to be but...
But maybe he did want to be. Maybe he did want Newt to think of him first. Maybe he was a mess.
Minerva headed away and Credence backed to the door. Nobody was looking at him, the few people there were all obviously engrossed in their own conversations, but he couldn't help feeling...
He needed some air. That was all. He needed some air. Minerva would know where to look for him.
The street was better. Deserted in the failing light of evening. The shops closed. Lights in the windows of houses. It was quiet. So quiet. It was never this quiet in New York.
He missed it. Not the people he'd known there so much as the city itself. Sometimes his life now felt impossibly small. As though he wasn't actually any more free than he had been when he lived with his mother. As though he might as well have stayed there with her.
He knew it was only temporary but still...
Then movement caught his eye. Just a flicker, just in the corner of his vision. He wasn't alone.
He spun, hand flying for his wand. But...there was something familiar about the figure. Something horribly familiar. Someone he'd seen a million times, coming to him out of the gloom.
But it couldn't be.
Could it?
He didn't know. He'd thought a million times about asking Newt. It had just never seemed right. Felt as though they were living in some kind of bubble built on their not quite ever talking about New York and what had happened there and that one word might cause the entire thing to shatter but now...
Graves smiled at him, then the world went black.
***
Newt was off the train before it had ever really stopped and to the fluu point. His clutched his case in one hand, the letter in the other. The poor abused letter hardly looked like itself any more. Since it had arrived at the island, he'd hardly put it down.
He made it to the fluu point earlier than anyone else which was good. There wasn't a moment to lose.
Or maybe there was. Maybe he was overreacting. The letter, after all, didn't ask him to come back early. Didn't imply any immediate danger. But he couldn't get the idea out of his head. Couldn't thrown the feeling that something horrible was about to happen and he hadn't made it this far in life by ignoring instinct.
After all, if Grindelwald was back out in the world again, it wasn't unreasonable to think that he'd look for Credence. He didn't know that they'd taken the creature out of him. He wouldn't know that Credence was just as useful now as ever. An incredibly gifted wizard in his own right. And, of course, Credence was in Hogwarts. Of course he was as safe as he could be, but still. Still.
He'd managed to get off the island within an hour of retrieving the letter, early enough to catch the next train.
When he appeared at the public Fluu point in Hogwarts, Albus was waiting.
He'd been right.
"Where's Credence," he said, Albus's features tightened.
"Let's take this somewhere private."
He wanted to protest. His shoulders were so tight he felt like he might shake right out of his skin. He hadn't felt like this in years. Not since, well. He didn't want to think about not since but it had been years and he hated it. Hated the spiraling uncertainty. The tightness in his gut. The knowing that something was wrong and he wasn't going to be able to fix it because it was too big for him - all of this was too big for him.
He wanted to run. He wasn't quite sure yet if, given the chance, he'd run towards the danger or away from it.
Albus lead him to the rooms Newt and Credence had been sharing. They were depressingly empty. He checked them himself to be sure, pausing in the bedroom door when he saw that the bed with the disturbed bedding was his which would mean that Credence had been sleeping...
There was no time for that right now. He slammed the door and headed back to the main room.
It was depressing how small the rooms were. They were crowded with papers and he almost felt claustrophobic here now.
He should never have left Credence here.
"Where is he?"
Albus frowned.
"I left him with you. You were meant to take care of him. Where is it?"
"I don't know," Albus admitted. He sounded as though the admission pained him. "I've been through his papers and there's no evidence of contact."
"You had no right," Newt said, spinning as though he could somehow put himself between Albus and Credence's things. Could somehow go back in time and stop any of this from happening.
His hands were shaking. This wasn't good. Not good at all. He set his case down on the table.
"There's no need to panic just yet," Albus said.
"How can I not?"
"Because I believe he's in safe hands."
"But who..."
"There's a student. Minerva McGonagall. She's been visiting him recently. They have something of a friendship based on their shared aptitude for transfiguration. When I realised he was gone I visited her dormitory. She's also missing."
"So she might be in danger too."
"I doubt it. I think it's much more likely that the young Miss McGonagall has lead your friend on an adventure. She's prone to them, after all."
"But where..."
"The town, no doubt. I would have headed there directly but my sourced alerted me that you were heading this way at pace so I thought it better to intercept you than to let you find this room empty."
He thought it might have been better if Albus had opened with that that instead of the preamble but there wasn't time for that now.
"Fine, let's head to the town."
"Let's." Albus agreed.
Then turned to the door just as it flew open, a disheveled young witch spilling across the threshold. "Professor," she cried. "I've lost Credence."
***
Credence opened his eyes again to find himself stood in the middle of a field. Graves stood across from him. He looked exactly like Credence remembered him, right down to the stray threads of his trenchcoat. He smiled as Credence ached.
But this was wrong.
He wrapped his fingers around his wand but didn't take it out of his pocket - not yet.
He had to be seeing things. Some kind of illusion. He knew that was magic that did that. Magic that would make him see things but, if it let him see things that weren't there, why Graves. He hadn't even thought much about Graves since he left New York.
Well, that was a lie. He hadn't wanted to think about Graves much since New York. Had bit down on the feelings that opened up him in when he thought about the other man. He'd been betrayed. He knew that much. He'd always known, of course, that Graves was more interested in what Credence might bring to him than he was in Credence himself but he'd just been so alone for so long and he thought...
He thought that, maybe, one person in the world might want him.
"Credence," Graves said, and it sounded like him. Looked like him. Smiled like him. Reached out for Credence like him.
Credence took a quick step back, gripping his wand.
"What's wrong?" Graves asked. His voice was thick with concern, like it used to be before. Before he called Credence useless. Before he threw him away. And he hated it but something deep inside him answered to that. Something reached right back out towards the hand that Graves was offering.
This was wrong.
But he'd been so alone.
"What are you doing here?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Graves asked. He stepped closer again and Credence stepped back but stumbled on the rough ground. Stumbled enough to give Graves an opening to dart in. Take his elbow. Steady him.
"Don't touch me," he said, trying to pull free, but Graves only tightened his grip.
"Credence. Listen to me."
"No," Credence said, trying to pull away again. At least Graves didn't have his wand arm. He tightened his grip on his wand. "How did you get here?"
"I came for you."
"But how did you know I was here?"
"Does it matter," Graves said, stepping in closer. And a traitorous part of Credence wanted to say it didn't. To press himself in closer. But that part couldn't be the part that controlled him. This was not him, not any more.
He hoped it wasn't him.
But had anything really changed? He'd moved, but that meant nothing. A new place didn't make you a new person. And he had friends now, but two people who cared that he existed, was that so much different from what he had before. And could he really rely on them. Who's to say they wouldn't leave him. Wouldn't turn on him. Everyone else had. Every single person he'd ever cared about.
"Credence," Graves said. Maybe he sense the mess that Credence was in because he stepped in again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hurt you like I did. I'm here to bring you back."
Any why not?
Graves had hurt him, yes, but at least now he knew what to expect. He knew whatever comfort he took and whatever sweet words Graves said, it would all be a lie. A manipulation to get Credence to participate in his plan and wasn't that all anyone had ever done? Hurt and manipulate him? When had someone ever trusted him?
Wasn't it better to know what he was signing up for?
He loosened his fingers around his wand. Found himself leaning a little into Graves.
Maybe it'd be easier just to let Graves be in control. Just to disappear.
There was a feeling against his hand. A brushing. He frowned, twitched his fingers and when he did, Pickett held on. Held on tightly to him.
It was like a veil lifting.
In a second, all the rage and hurt seemed to leech away. He didn't need to focus on Graves any more, Pickett was there. Just like before, when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts.
It might be easier to go with Graves, that wouldn't make it better, though.
Maybe Newt would hurt him. Maybe Newt wasn't the safe bet. But this strange fragile happiness, the trust of these creatures, the memory of a gentle brush of lips, the idea that they could be more.
Wasn't that worth fighting for?
In one motion, Credence drew his wand, the spell already on his lips.
***
Newt sank back into a chair. His hands were shaking. He didn't want to think about what his face must be doing.
He should have never gone. He should have come back sooner. He should have taken the time before rushing for the train to kiss Credence properly. It'd have been so easy and he shouldn't be wasting brain power on a thing like that when Grindlewald was out there but now he might never get to and...
His breath was short now. Not now. It had been so long since he'd felt this panic and he'd never had witnesses before. Other than his dragons, of course. The dragons he'd had to teach to fight, to fight with.
He couldn't do this again.
They were going to find Credence and they were going to save him then he was going to take Credence and run as far and as fast as he could because he couldn't do this again.
"Newt, focus," Albus said. His tone was sharp so Newt glared at him. He didn't need this, not now.
If only Albus hadn't convinced him to go. If only he'd stayed.
"Miss McGonagall," Albus said, turning to her instead. "Go back to your dorm and stay safe. I should have never encouraged this in the first place."
"No."
Newt turned to look at her properly. This witch. This child who'd lost Credence. How did you even lose a person? Why had she left him alone? Didn't she know...
Only no, of course she hadn't known. There's no way Albus would tell her who Credence really was or the specific kind of danger that he might be in. She'd thought he was a friend, and Credence so badly needed friends. How could he begrudge them that?
"Miss..."
"I'm not going," she said, folding her arms. "This is my fault. I talked him into leaving, I should help you find him."
"This is beyond you."
"Leave it, Albus," Newt said, standing. "She's his friend, she's not going to leave him. Besides, she can show us where she last saw him."
"Newt."
"You let her get involved in this, Albus. But, young lady, it is rather dangerous."
"I don't care," she said. She looked so determined, Newt could see why Credence had taken to her. For a dark second, Newt wondered if Albus's motive in letting the two of them grow close was entirely pure. She was a pretty girl, after all.
Better not to think about that. Not until they had Credence back.
Better not to think about that, either. About what exactly it had taken, last time, to defeat Grindelwald.
But now, now he had to. Now it was Credence and he knew he couldn't leave Credence. Couldn't just walk away from this and pretend that nothing had happened. Even outside of the fact that he'd do this for any of his friends, Credence was more than that. They all knew Credence was more than that.
He could do this.
"Let's go," he said, raising his wand.
Then the wind started.
***
Credence was flying appart. He was scattered. He was wind. The felt like his scream was the only thing that was keeping him together. Felt like the winds were tearing at him and it was all he could do to try and stay in one piece. He had to concentrate. To grip on to himself. To force himself back together.
He could do this. He'd done this before. He'd not meant to but he'd done it.
He thought about home. He thought about safety. He thought about Minerva smiling and Albus patiently explaining. He thought about the creatures, he'd never expected to bond with them but he had. He thought about Pickett watching him as he worked. He thought about Newt. He thought about Newt's eyes, kind and soft. He thought about Newt's laugh. He thought about Newt's calm, competent hands. About Newt's lips. About the gentle brush of Newt's lips against his.
He pulled himself back in. Held himself as tight as he could in that moment, that memory.
He opened his eyes.
Newt was there. Wide eyed, wand in his hand. Credence didn't think, just stepped forward and put his arms around Newt. Pressed his face into Newt's neck. Brethed him in and, yes, this was him. Warm and real and here and Credence laughed because it had worked. He hadn't thought it would, hadn't thought he'd be able to do it alone, but it had worked.
He drew back to Newt beaming at him. Laughing with him.
And he kissed Newt. Not a gentle, soft brush of the lips but a real kiss. The kind of kiss he'd been thinking about, daydreaming about, for months. For two months, to be exact.
And Newt kissed him back with just as much passion. Just as much fear and love and just as much pain at how long they'd been appart.
Somewhere behind them, Credence heard a door shut. He didn't pay too much attention.
He was home.
***
Only one bed was slept in that night. The bed that had been Newt's, that was now both of theirs.
They had to emerge first, of course, to face the world. For Credence to tell Albus what, exactly, had happened to him. For Newt to explain to Credence that the person hadn't been Graves, to let him know exactly what kind of danger he was in.
They'd held each other's hands through the conversation. Minerva had smiled as though there was a joke she was in on. Albus had just looked old. Sad. He'd avoided meeting their eyes but neither of them had minded, too lost in each other to care.
He'd had his path and they had theirs. There was no point in confusing the two.
Once the lights were out, Credence curled himself around Newt and Newt relaxed into the hold, let himself be held. The world was still out there. Grindelwald and prejudice and a million things that might come for them. But, that night, nothing could reach them. For the first time, they slept peacefully in each other's arms.