Archive of Our Own ^beta

  Educating others was difficult. Newt tried, he really did, and more importantly he wanted too. The beasts he studied deserved that much. It never seemed to work out that way though. Every time he tried to broach the subject; he was dismissed. Usually instantly. 

   Newt could tell that anyone that did pay attention to what he had to say was mostly entertaining him. He could see the pity in their eyes. It always left him with a sour taste in his mouth as he spoke and disappointment in his chest. Annoyance even tried to manifest deep somewhere inside him which he tried hard to suppress.

   People always seemed to forget that human beings were beasts in a way themselves. A different variety with higher brain function, but still a beast, nonetheless. At least by their own definition considering the way the majority of humans behaved.

   Out of everyone in the magical community Newt was the most adept at reading any beast's body language. It sounded a bit hubris of him when he thought of it again, but he didn’t find it difficult to see what any of them were thinking. Broadly of course because he was no legilimens. Still, their posture and expression told him the most important things. 

   Tapping his quill against one of his newer journals, Newt shook his head. It didn’t matter how playful a zouwu’s personality was or how tenderly a demiguise expressed itself. The two “beasts” looked strange, “dangerous”, and would automatically be assumed as much. Something that had a high chance of sealing their fate before anything could be proven otherwise. Wixen were far too quick to draw their wand instead of stopping to think. 

    Open to change . Newt scribbled out the words and underlined them with frustration. It was the biggest obstacle regarding so many things. Everything it seemed. He might have to dedicate the whole opening chapter to his book to the topic just to keep them reading. 

   Sadly tradition was just that. Tradition. Sometimes a good thing, but more often than not it seemed to be a burden. 

   People had a difficult time straying away from what they knew because anything new wasn’t what things had always been. It was automatically wrong for a variety of reasons in their mind. If they weren’t open to change, nothing ever would. Newt wasn’t sure that was something he was capable of helping fix. At least not the way he’d previously been trying since his youth. 

   Gellert could change things and he was more open to the idea as a whole than anyone he’d ever met besides himself. He was encouraging change on such a large scale that it genuinely scared people. Newt wasn’t afraid of such a thing though. If anything, he was mesmerized by someone willing to take such a charge. It was one of the many things he admired about the wizard.

   The amount of ambition, determination, was awe inducing for Newt. He could never have found such confidence, power, to show the importance of change. Never could he have pushed for it no matter who argued against him. It made him feel cowardly at times how easily he backed down from confrontation. 

   Gellert had called him a soft, tender soul full of nothing, but care for all Earth’s creations. A rare quality, not a weakness. Newt had felt like a teenager, swooning with heat rising to his cheeks at the comment. A comment that was shortly before they went from… mutual collaborators, to something more. 

   Newt would never consider himself a “follower of Grindelwald” like the way Theseus thought he was. At first Gellert had simply found his creatures, a much more suitable term in his opinion, curious. The way he handled them throughout America and Europe, having gained his respect. Piquing his interest in what kind of wixen was capable of such a trying, skillful task.

   If Gellert Grindelwald could stop to respect his creatures, inquire about them with genuine interest, when the “good” couldn’t even accept the idea of doing the same? Newt had always entertained dangerous beasts. An all-powerful dark wizard? It wasn’t hard by any means. 

   Did Gellert use dark magic? Yes. Did Swooping Evil eat brains? Yes. Did that make either of them the dark beasts lingering in the shadows with cruelty wrapped around their souls like others so claimed? Not from Newt’s point of view. 

   Writing a few more random thoughts out regarding such things, Newt decided what he’d declared was going to be the outline for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was going to be more of a rough draft. A rough draft for the draft of an outline, for the draft of an eventual book. It sounded chaotic in his head, which was pretty on point for a life surrounded by magical creatures as he traveled the world.  

   One day Newt hoped some poor lad like himself would stumble across his book in the Hogwarts library. Find fascination in the variety of life. Better yet, maybe one day the wizarding community would open their mind enough that Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them would be taught in Care for Magical Creatures. 

   Oh, the dreams Gellert had helped him dream of since their involvement. Highly achievable ones at first like getting creatures off the black market. Newt had been managing that on his own before, but not to the degree he now did. He was beginning to consider having two suitcases, one purely for rehabilitation of the wounded and traumatized.   

    A commonly heard rumor was that Gellert had a silver tongue. Newt actually wouldn’t disagree with that much to Theseus’s horror. The wizard had planted the seed of hope back in his chest after all.

   If Newt were a less private or well-mannered man, there were a few other reasons he’d agree Gellert had a silver tongue. It didn’t matter what came out of the wizard’s mouth, it was usually laced in the metal in one way or another. Words meant to cut you open. Now whether that was in a good or bad way was completely up to the individual and circumstances. 

   “I can feel the tension,” Gellert said, suddenly from behind him. 

   Newt didn’t jump, but he did pause his hand from where he’d begun to distractedly sketch the two headed runespoor they’d recently taken off a witch in India while he was lost in thought. The average wixen thought the snake to be a sign, companion, of purely dark witches and wizards. Another misunderstood creature, burdened with assumptions based on rumors like Gellert. Merlin, like himself now. Ones Theseus, perhaps even Dumbledore with all his manipulative habits, were spreading across England.  

   Assumptions. Newt found he was growing to hate the more he wrote it, as it seemed to be another common factor in the reason his creatures were treated so poorly. The same way he loathed the words “beasts” and “evil”. A world, a magical one especially, was so much more than the definitions people tried to label everything under. 

   Newt’s shoulders slumped when Gellert’s hands softly rested on them. He sighed, soaking in the unspoken reassurance and dropped his head against his desk. After his morning feeding routine, he’d decided to work on his book. It turned out proper writing was hard. Time had flown by with little more than fresh notes. Brooding even. 

   “Come love,” Gellert said soothingly, warmly, in his ear. “Rest for a bit. I received word that Agatha will be arriving soon.” 

    Newt stood up instantly, the chair skidding back against the stone floor and Gellert chuckled behind him at the response. A smile overtook his face because sometimes he was prone to being a bit impulsive. If he wasn’t he wouldn’t be in the most powerful wizard of their time’s private castle in the Eastern Alps. Calm about accidentally pushing something into the man. 

   Gellert was no less intimidating in his plain dark blue jumper and black slacks than when he was in complete dress robes. It was due to a variety of factors. The way his blond hair shined in contrast. How his mismatched eyes were a thing of wonder. Logically Newt knew it was due to his posture that very seldom changed. 

   “How many?” Newt inquired curiously, eagerly, and quite ready to get his hands ‘dirty’ so to speak. 

    “I suggest rest for a reason,” Gellert said, a smug smirk that told Newt how amused he was with his response. “She left out the specifics, but I believe she quite literally had her hands full. My guess, conservatively, is you will have yourself a whole litter to tend to.” 

   “Merlin,” Newt breathed in excitement, having been waiting for this moment for days. “Are you going to join me?” 

   Unsure what to do first, Newt decided to fix the chair. An easy enough task, stepping to the side and sliding it back where it went. Who needed to worry about a bloody book when he had a whole litter to take care of. At the least. 

  If things were worse, like Newt feared, the mothers were unlikely to be in any proper state to care for pups. An illegal breeder known for constantly having young at the ready for sale, had no concern about their well-being, leaving him to fill the role he loved most of all. The caretaker. 

   “Soon, not now,” Gellert scolded him lightly, taking his hand just as he started to pat himself down. 

    “How old are they? Are their eyes open? Should I find something softer to wear? I know I’ve yet to study them in any form, but if they have claws like their teeth, I fear going shirtless. Of course, I will…” Newt rambled until Gellert placed a finger to his own lips, trying to help calm his thoughts. 

    “Shush,” Gellert said after a full, painful, thirty seconds of indicating silence. “Mothers need to rest. Of course I will be joining you. I am no Father, but I am curious to learn more about the creatures we are taking in. You are making groundbreaking discoveries here, love. I wish to watch the journey unfold. Always.” 

   Newt blew out a breath calmly, earning him a light kiss on the lips when he’d finished. He couldn’t help grinning a little into it. It made him feel a bit giddy, but it was actually just happiness. Unfiltered, raw happiness that he was almost used to these days. 

   Gellert might be seen as a cold person, however he was anything but to the people he cared about. The things he cared about. Newt understood how the man’s upbringing had made him that way, which caused the moments of sweetness or passion shared between them mean even more to him. At the times where his boyfriend’s secret warmth extended to his creatures? 

   “I had a late lunch made for you,” Gellert told him, brushing some of his hair off his forehead. “Let us go to the dining hall. We can theorize potential names for the species. I doubt you would like to keep the name from their lore. 

   “Of course not,” Newt said, wrinkling his nose at the thought. 

   Trying to convince people that ‘viperwolves’ were not purely out for blood? Another challenge on the never-ending list of challenges in his career field. Newt already thought it was a shame he couldn’t do anything about Swooping Evil, but alas it’d been discovered long before his time.

   “Let us go then,” Gellert repeated, encouraging him out of the personal office he’d been given so he wasn’t always in his suitcase. 

    Newt didn’t protest. He didn’t argue. Not because he couldn’t, but because he had no reason to. Together, Gellert and himself were making great strides in the future of the magical world. The whole world as his lover liked to declare. A world where all beasts of all kinds would one day have a better future.