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It was a perfectly sunny and lackadaisical Wednesday afternoon inside Newt's case when it happened.
Credence had been adjusting so wonderfully to life after that dreadful business in New York, for which Newt was endlessly proud, and Newt had been thrilled when instead of behaving like every other almost-friend in Newt's life and parting ways with speed in their step and a nod and mumble that said 'I have made a mistake conversing with you', he'd decided to stay and help care for his creatures! It was most definitely the affections of a certain Demiguise and Bowtruckle that swayed him to stay, Newt was certain, but if the love of Newt's furry (and scaly, and sometimes rather bite-y) family was enough to outweigh suffering through Newt's company, well. He was glad for the company, and that the boy was safe.
In fact Credence even seemed to enjoy Newt's company, as much as a severely emotionally stunted soul like Credence was able to enjoy anything, which of course was baffling. He hadn't run screaming from the suitcase yet after two entire months, and Newt was contemplating writing a second guidebook, titled: Unlikely Companions and How to Resemble a Normal Human Being and Not Scare Them Off, as it seems he was doing something right.
It was a perfectly comfortable and relaxing Wednesday afternoon and Newt and Credence were sitting for tea at the cozy little work bench inside his shed when it happened. They'd fallen into quiet non-committal conversation, as Credence had been more and more engaging in as each day passed, and Newt had been mid-story about a Hippogriff of his mother's that had tried to fly off with his hat when he was six when the soft smile had slipped from Credence's face, his shoulders locking in around him and throwing his gaze straight to the floor.
Newt's story died on his lips, his hand still frozen midair in a display of how the beast had swooped over his younger self. He dropped his arm and leaned across the table, but pulled away as Credence scooted down the bench and away from him.
"Are you alright? Hippogriffs really are quite friendly when you aren't a toddler and terrified-" Newt started, but snapped his jaw shut when Credence's voice, low and almost mechanical, cut him off.
"I'm fine, it's nothing."
Well. That sounded an awful lot like the terrified and defensive Credence that Newt hadn't seen in at least a month, which didn't sound like 'nothing' in the slightest.
"If anything I say ever frightens you Credence all you have to do is say so and I won't-" He reached slowly to pat Credence's hand atop the table and bit off the rest of his sentence when Credence pulled it into his lap with a jerk, wringing them together with white knuckles.
He didn't have time to even apologize for whatever it was he'd said to offend him before Credence was up and backing towards the door to his bedroom, hands behind his back and his gaze never leaving the worn wood floor. "Suddenly I'm quite tired, I think I'll have a rest, if you don't mind." His words were flat and devoid of any hint of the personality Newt had become rather fond during Credence's time there. "Thank you for the tea, Mister Scamander." With that Credence was out of the room and sequestered off into his own before the tea in his mug had stopped moving.
Newt sat at the little table, alone, his own tea getting cold and at a complete and total loss. Back to a last name basis after one story from childhood, he really must be dreadful to be around. And after all that progress, as well. You've really stuck your foot in it now, Mister Scamander.
With a sigh Newt collected their cups, cleaned and returned them to a cabinet with a flick of his wand, and set off to start the afternoon chores in hopes that Credence would join him when he was ready to talk.
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Join him he did, later that evening, but talk they did not. At least not about his strange change in mood, Credence seemed determined to pretend it never happened, and Newt was just glad he hadn't finally tipped the boy over the edge and sent him fleeing from Newt's life in search of refuge from his personality. And wasn't that a dreary thought, that every human relationship in his life would exist within a horrible limbo between 'painfully awkward first meeting' and 'desperate escape after prolonged exposure to me as a person'. For reasons he couldn't put into words he had faith that he and Credence could be, would be friends, and that he'd want to stay with him. And his creatures, with him and his creatures, rather.
Ahem.
Credence Joined him later that evening to help with the last few feedings, and as they tossed handfuls of pellets to hang in the air for the mooncalves to nip at, he'd seen Credence let a gentle smile creep across his face. Warmed at the sight of it and wary to do anything to dash it away again, Newt kept any fumbling attempts at conversation to himself and just smiled back, content to finish the last of the chores in companionable silence.
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The next time it happened they were in the Graphorn enclosure, having finished the feeding and were using a bit of spare time in the day to engage the younger ones into some perfectly healthy horseplay. Credence had just thrown a rather hefty branch across the grass, and had his head thrown back in an all-too-rare burst of laughter as the smallest of the offspring struggled determinedly to drag it back to him. Newt couldn't quite keep his own smile from growing, both in fondness at the rambunctious young Graphorn and (let's be honest) fondness for the young man beside him.
He really had come so far. He was no longer the bruised little boy cowering at that horrible woman's feet in the murky silver of Tina's memory; in his shoes a man now stood, posture straighter by the day and his arms thick from work, his skin a little rosier and his frame a little fuller, healthier. His hair had even grown a bit, and he'd made no mention to Newt about cutting it. Credence was a choked and twisted garden that had been ripped apart and planted fresh, with only good and healthy things growing and sprouting anew. Newt almost didn't recognize him as the same scared boy who'd knocked a shaky hand at his cabin door on that steamship so long ago, eyes anywhere but up and wet with fear.
Newt was thrown rather unexpectedly from his sentimental musings by the snuffling and snorting of the larger of the two young Graphorns, digging tracks in the dirt and staring him down playfully. Newt made a show of pushing up his sleeves, then shooting his arms out wide and bending his knees with a loud snorted shout of his own.
All joking and playing flew out the metaphorical window, however, as Credence jerked away from the motion beside him, falling to the ground with a gasp and wide eyes. Newt turned to him immediately, concern falling from his mouth before the young Graphorn (who didn't pick up on the change in atmosphere whatsoever) came barreling into Newt's gut, sending him sprawling on his back in the dirt.
"Yes yes, you got me, no shove off you brute!" He gave the young-ling a tickle between its tendrils and sent it snuffling on its way, clambering to his feet to stoop over Credence.
He bent and offered him his hand. "Didn't think I hit you there but 't was my fault all the same, sorry about that!" Credence didn't reply, didn't even look at him, and his hands remained clenched in fists at his sides. He was trembling ever so slightly and Newt could see his throat bobbing up and down.
"Credence, are you alright? Did the litte one nip you? You must forgive him, see, he's still teething just a bit and he is rather ornery about it-"
"N-No, he didn't bite me, I'm just- I have to-" Credence words seemed to be failing him and he scrambled to his feet, not bothering to dust himself off at all. He still wouldn't meet Newt's eyes. "I'm going to go check on Dougal, make sure he's got water, excuse me." Stepping around Newt like there was a fence around him Credence fled the enclosure and headed back to Dougal's hanging hideaway, and Newt heaved a sigh. He knew full well that Credence had checked Dougal's food and water first thing in the morning, and he was getting the sinking feeling that this wasn't going to be the last time Credence was startled into vanishing by seemingly nothing at all.
"What am I doing wrong?" He asked defeatedly, as the smaller graphorn nudged his shins with the branch that he'd finally managed to fetch. The graphorn, of course, had no answer for him, just an impatient series of snuffles.
"Some help you are," he muttered with a sad little quirk of his lips, and hurled the branch across the enclosure, the little beast chasing excitedly after it.
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The third time it happened, Newt had the presence of mind to notice a few things.
They were stood side by side before Newt's cluttered countertop, huddled around a small cauldron that was simmering evenly. Credence had one nervous hand wrapped around a ladel and was stirring it slowly, his other hand tightly clasping a bright pink herb that smelled of nail varnish. It was Credence's third attempt at an anti-fever potion, and he had it almost perfect.
"Now, you're going to want to stir in seven leaves exactly, while keeping an even stirring speed." Newt was watching him closely, a supportive hand on one of Credence's shoulder blades that Newt felt privately very proud hadn't made Credence uncomfortable (as far as he could tell; small victories, and all that).
As the liquid began to shimmer Newt gave a hum of approval and continued. "If you add too few it will thicken into a brick, and if you add too many it'll just-" Here Newt used his free hand to hover over the cauldron and then shoot skywards, immitating the geyser effect that many previous attempts at this potion by his own hand had stained his cieling a vivid fuschia.
Where Newt expected a chuckle or even just a murmered acknowledgement, he instead felt Credence's back snap ramrod straight under his hand, the ladel splashing into the potion that had turned a sickly grey without the constant stirring.
"Ah- I-I'm sorry Mister Scamander, I've ru-ruined it- I'm-"
"Newt, please, and no need to worry, Credence, this potion is a tricky one, it's quite alright." He tried to return a comforting hand to Credence's back but he shuddered away from the touch, his hands shaking.
Newt's gears were turning, determined to figure out what was causing these mysterious rertreats back into himself, when a rumbling of roughhousing erumpent sent an herb jar tumbling off the shelf just above them. Newt shot out a hand to catch it and Credence stumbled back, shaking harder and clutching his sleeve tightly in one hand.
Already knowing what would come next, Newt held his hands out placatingly in front of him (one hand still clutching a jar of lemongrass) and started to speak. "Wait now, Credence, I think I have an idea-" he stopped abruptly as Credence just shook his head violently, and sped out of the room without even a word.
Of course. Of course! How he'd been so blind to the problem he'd never know, but it was too late to salvage the afternoon yet again.
Newt slumped against the counter and picked at his own handmade label on the jar in his hands. He had an idea of what was going on so frustratingly out of his scope, and really given his line of work he should've picked up on it sooner. He mentally kicked himself and set the jar back in its rightful place perhaps a bit harder than he needed to. That was just like him, though, dense as ever when it came to other human beings. Sure, he could tell the favorite color of an Occamy just by hearing it sneeze but he didn't have the sense to know that Gerard Milton from third year didn't stop sitting with him in the dining hall because the teachers made him switch, like he'd said, but because he couldn't stand to hear Newt go on for hours about Mandrakes.
Despite the fact that it took him far too long to realize what it was that might be bothering Credence, he was confident that he could now stop these episodes and make Credence feel completely and utterly at ease once again.
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He was wrong, of course, as usual. He was starting to think that maybe he should scrap that second book, because things between him and Credence had only seemed to get worse.
When Credence had finally crept out of his room and joined Newt for tea, still visably a little shaken, Newt made sure not to make any quick movements and kept his arms mostly at his sides.
He was telling Credence softly about the new family of Fwooper eggs he'd discovered that morning and the knock on the head he'd gotten from the mother, and he managed to catch himself with his arm in the air, ready to swoop dramatically against his head to replicate it. He froze and lowered it slowly to his side, his eyes on Credence the whole while. It seemed to work, Credence only darted his eyes away for a moment, and Newt was beginning to release the tension he'dbeen carrying about the whole thing.
That is, until he slipped up again later that afternoon, catching himself about fling his arm and enchant the cleaver to chop up his meat stores for him with a lurching swoop of a spell. He'd let out the breath he'd taken to mutter the words and the rest of him deflated too, sending a sheepish glance to where Credence was filling a water bucket.
He'd locked eyes with Newt and there was such a deep sadness in them that Newt hadn't seen in so long that it hit him like a blow to the chest. With a grim set to his jaw Credence hefted the bucket and trudged out of the shed, his eyes hard and wet and sad.
Newt felt like he could explode into a thousand pieces right then and there. He nearly threw what was in his hand against the wall before he remembered he was holding a meat cleaver, and he chucked it into a hunk of meat before collapsing onto the small table, his head in his hands.
What was he doing wrong? Was he wrong about what had been upsetting Credence all this time? When will he finally be happy?
Oh. Oh you utter twat, you insensitive selfish bellend.
Newt fisted his hair in his hands and banged his head on the tabletop, just enough to hurt just a little. How could he have been so stupid, so selfish as to think that he could cure Credence of his emotional wounds, the scars on his soul, just by being nice to him? By keeping his movements slow, like he's some frightened beast and not a human being with complex feelings and personality? A human being who was probably more detached than ever because he feels you treating him like a beast, like one of your creatures, an experiment to be documented and do your chores in the meantime.
Absolutely not, this could not go on for one more second.
Newt stood from the table, face set into a stony mask. From this moment on, Newt would not make Credence do a single thing. He would not request his help with chores, he would not attempt to teach him any more potions or spells, and he would not burden him with conversation that he could see now that Credence only suffered through this whole time out of a misplaced sense of obligation. He wouldn't make him leave, of course not, he could stay as long as he liked, but he wouldn't make it any more miserable for him than he already apparently had.
His mind set hard and determined, Newt strode quickly off into his habitats with a heavy stride and a heavy heart.
Caught up in hating himself and making plans, Newt did not see Credence peeking through the crack in his bedroom door.
He did not see Credence choke down a sob, looking at the scars that still roped thick around his hands, and when he had long since walked away into the depths of his menagerie, he did not hear Credence crying into his knees.
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In the next few weeks Newt saw very little of Credence. It was probably for the best, he figured, taking Credence's distance as confirmation that he in fact most likely hated Newt and was only there in his suitcase with him because he had nowhere else to go. He didn't blame him, not at all, it just served to make him even more lonely than he was before, alone with his creatures.
The daily chores were a lot quieter without Credence, even though he hadn't talked much even at the height of his comfort in the case. The creatures all seemed to miss him as well, darting around Newt and looking for him when he'd visit their enclosures. He'd had to ensure more than one of his beasts that no, Credence wasn't angry at them, just angry at Mummy.
They weren't pleased with him for that, of course, but Newt wasn't really pleased with himself either.
So the days passed with hardly a word spoken between them. They'd catch each other in the shed at the same time, sometimes, to fix some tea or grab a sandwhich, but one or both of them always fled before the forced smiles and head tilts and mumbled 'oh excuse me' or 'sorry, I'll just-' became too much to bear.
As they settled into a sad and quiet routine that continued to somehow feel worse than complete solitude, Newt sadly began to wonder how long it would be before Credence had finally had enough of him.
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Credence still hadn't picked up and left, but Newt still had a dilemma on his hands.
He'd vowed to never again trouble Credence with unnecessary bouts of his presence, and he'd honored that vow strictly (and painfully) up to that point, but it seemed that he actually had a reason to trouble him with necessary fraternization.
Every month he liked to take a blood sample from the alpha Nundu to monitor its toxin levels and keep record of them, for given the extreme potency of their DNA even minute dilution levels of the toxins in their blood could have drastic effects on the chemical makeup of their breath, and therefor would inflict drastically different maladies on whomsoever is unlucky enough to catch a whiff. It was highly important and meticulous research, and once he published the findings in his book he could help protect thousands from accidental horrendous disease via Nundu breath with simple preventions to their care like dietary restrictions or habitat vegetation.
That was all well and good, aside from the fact that it was extremely difficult to take a blood sample without him employing his most powerful defense mechanism against Newt at the pain of the needle, which, for Newt, could mean anything from a common cold to the Bubonic plague. He'd collected samples before he had an assistant of sorts, true, but it was an endeavor that sometimes took days and, sometimes, had Newt serving a short stint at St. Mungo's. With Credence's help they could wrestle a muzzle on the bugger, take the sample and distract him from the pain all at once, and then remove the muzzle with a flick of Newt's wand once they were safely out of breathing range. Less stress on the Nundu, less chance that Newt dies of the plague, and all taken care of in an afternoon.
He'd just make it absolutely clear that Credence was under absolutely no obligation to help, that Newt was merely asking as a friendly collegue and nothing more. After that he'd be free to never see Newt'd face again, if he so wished, he wouldn't bother him, he just couldn't pass up the opportunity for the enhanced safety of both himself and his creatures.
There, that sounded nice and professional, didn't it? Newt certainly hoped so.
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Newt knocked on the rickety wood of Credence's door and cleared his throat, trying to keep his posture straight. He heard a murmured noise of assent from within and he cleared his throat, tightening his grip on the leather straps in his hand before striding purposefully into the room. He'd brought the muzzle along so that they could go straight to the Nundu enclosure, get in and get out, and he could rid Credence of his horrid company, but now they only threatened to steal his gaze away from Credence where it should be and give his fingers something to fiddle with.
"Credence, I'm afraid I need to ask something of you," Newt tried to keep his voice even and cordial, all business, straight to the point.
Credence was sitting on his cot, elbows deep in an old History of Magic textbook Newt had given him his first week in the suitcase. When he looked up at Newt his eyes flew to the leather in his hand and stuck there. He sucked in a stuttery breath and let the book drop from his hands, landing split open on the floor with a thud.
Newt could hear Credence start to hyperventalate, his chest heaving choppy and violent as he stood shakily from the bed. His eyes looked like candles snuffed out and as tears began to freely roll down his cheeks and dot patterns into his shirt collar, he walked slowly over to Newt and stood before him. After a heartbreaking moment of Credence searching his face for something Newt had no hope of naming, he turned around giving Newt his back, and sunk to his knees.
Newt's people-stupid brain was still whirring and tripping to catch up, and he stood there in slack-jawed confusion, looking down at Credence's trembling shoulders.
He was about to slap his mouth into working and splutter out a 'why on earth-' or 'by Merlin's beard what am I missing-' but before he could convince his teeth and tongue and brain to work together and say something Credence spoke, barely more than a raspy whisper and sounding so fragile that Newt felt if he were to breath Credence would shatter.
"Please, Mister Scamander, at least tell me what I did before you do it."
Newt didn't dare say a word.
In his silence Credence continued, the shaking of his body warbling his words. "Please t-tell me what I did wrong so I can n-not do it again, I'm sorry."
Finally, finally Newt's brain caught up to what was happening, and he sorely wished it hadn't. He looked down at Credence's stooped and shaking frame. He looked at the belt in his hands.
Newt took a shuddered gasp and dropped the belt to the floor as if it bit into his skin, as if it did to him what Credence expected Newt to do to him. The noise only made Credence fold in on himself further, and Newt felt bile rise in his throat and tears sting at his eyes.
He'd done this. He'd made Credence afraid of him when all he'd wanted was to make him feel safe.
Feel loved.
"Oh, Credence..."
Newt jerked into motion, whirling around and kneeling to face him. Credence was bowed so low that his hair hung down in a twisted up curtain, trembling with the rest of him as he struggled to hold in his tears. His hands were gripping his forearms vice-tight Newt reached out a shaky hand to touch him, to comfort him, but snatched it away when Credence flinched violently.
"Credence, C-Credence I am so sorry, I know what that looked like and it's not-" Newt was drowning, out of his depth, grasping for words in the dark that could overcome the lead in his chest. "Credence I would never, ever hurt you, never in my life, I would die before I saw harm come to you." Newt knew his voice was trembling, and he tried to keep it steady for Credence's sake.
"Th-The belt, Ma used to m-make me give her mine when I was bad, when I was wicked-" Credence choked on the last word, like it hit his teeth on its way out of his mouth, and Newt ached to wrap his arms around the boy and tell him that he was safe now, no one would ever hurt him ever again, that that horrible woman was dead as she should be and Newt had the names of unnameable curses on his tongue for her, but-
"I am so so sorry Credence, I'm horrible and I didn't think, I needed your help with the Nundu and that's what the belt was for, I shouldn't have been so careless, It's my fault-" Newt was babbling, he knew it, anything and everything he could say to clear away the demons he'd unknowingly brought crashing and biting back into Credence's life tumbling from his lips, like a waterfall of guilt.
Credence lifted his head just enough to dare a look, "No it's my fault, I made you uncomfortable and you didn't want my help anymore, how can I blame you, I'm so fragile and so weak."
"Wh-? Credence no, I made you uncomfortable! I kept- throwing my arms around like a right sod and I should've seen it sooner, that you were afraid of me and I was so stupid-"
"No." It was firm and unwavering and Newt looked up from his fingers fumbling over themselves to see fierce black eyes trained on his, shining and hard. "You are not stupid, and I'm not afraid of you I-" He paused to take a shaky breath. "You're wonderful and kind and so smart and you do nothing but help me, and I still can't stop myself from breaking down and seeing her everywhere I go because I am weak and a coward and you're wasting all your goodness on me-"
Credence choked off his last sob when Newt laid a gentle hand on his hand where it gripped his arm.
"Credence. Credence may I, may I hold you? I promise I would never lay my hands on you unless it is in kindness." Newt was holding his gaze resolutely now as well, tear tracks gouging rivers between his freckles.
After an agonizing minute Credence gave a tiny nod, and Newt very slowly leaned forward and wrapped both arms snugly around Credence's shoulders. Credence didn't hug him back but he gripped two fistfulls of Newt's shirtfront in his hands, and that was enough. That was progress.
"You are a miracle, Credence. I know that horrible man said that to you and meant to control you but Credence you are. You are alive against all odds and the entire world and I am so thankful that you are." That you're here with me. He murmured the words softly into the shell of Credence's ear and let him sob freely, rubbing a comforting hand up and down his back.
Credence's sobs trailed into whimpers, and then into sniffles, and neither of them moved to break their embrace, on their knees on the hardwood of Credence's bedroom inside the suitcase.
Newt continued to rub circles into Credence's back, never letting up his soothing rhythm. "I'm sorry I was distant, I wanted to give you all the space you needed and..." Newt huffed a watery laugh. "Are they true? Those things you said about me, do you really think that?"
Credence shifted in his arms put didn't pull away, he just tucked a small nod into the crook of Newt's neck.
Newt smiled at that, and laughed out a disbelieving "Oh.." He hugged Credence tighter in thanks and continued. "I er, I thought you didn't like me, that you just tolerated my insufferableness until you could get on your feet, it sounds so silly out loud but-"
Newt startled into silence as Credence made a noise against his neck and pulled away abruptly, his brows pulled together in determination.
"Newt. Newt." Credence seemed to struggle for words, his hands itching with energy, and he finally decidedon gently cupping Newt's face in both of his hands before saying very firmly, "I like you, Newt Scamander, and I want to stay with you, and your creatures, for as long as you'll have me. Please." He added as an afterthought, as if he ever had to ask permission, and Newt couldn't stop the giggling from erupting from his throat.
"I think you'd better clear your schedule then, Mister Barebone, because we have a Nundu blood sample to take, if you'll join me."
Credence's hands were still on his face, and he was tracing circles over Newt's cheekbones with his thumbs and looking at him like he'd never seen him before. It only lasted a moment, before the biggest grin Newt have ever seen on him split his face, and he leaned forward until their forheads gently touched.
"Lead the way, Newt, if you would?"
As if he ever had to ask permission.
"Always."