A/N:

(For the lovely, ever-incredible Alex.)
((Also, a very happy birthday to FeoplePeel - an infinitely better writer than I'll ever be, and a wonderful person.))

Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.K. Rowling; I'm just borrowing them.

This is a short collection of snippets from Credence's and Percival's complicated interactions in the wake of Grindelwald's unmasking.

It will be four chapters long, each inspired by a different song. I'm hoping to update every other day.
Chapter 1 takes after 'Landfill', by Daughter.

In advance, thank you very much for reading!
(Reviews taste even sweeter than cocoa.)

Hugs,
Wil.

HEATHENS (TAKE IT SLOW)

Part I

Well this is torturous electricity,

Between both of us, and this is,

Dangerous, 'cause I want you so much-

But I hate your guts. I want you so much-

But I hate your guts.

Landfill – Daughter

'Are you sure you're okay with this, Credence?' Tina asked again, her voice soft and gentle. 'Just say the word, and—'

Credence swallowed, trying to ignore the threatening tattoo of his heart against his chest. He clenched his fists, moist fingers against moister palms, and took a deep, slow breath.

'It's—alright, Miss Goldstein,' he replied after a beat. 'Thank you.'

A hesitant press of Newt's hand against his shoulder helped him breathe with a little more ease. He straightened up, keeping his unwavering gaze fixed on the door.

'Okay,' Tina whispered, trying her best to mask her own doubts. 'You can bring him in, Queenie.'

The door opened to reveal Queenie's light frame and honey blonde curls, followed closely by a darker figure, which seemed somewhat curled up on itself.

When the stranger stepped into the light, time seemed to suspend its course for a moment.

And then the man looked up, and Credence felt something heavy drop at the bottom of his stomach.

It was him. Percival Graves.

'You—' Credence whispered in between clenched teeth before he could stop himself. The dark, menacing creature coiled up inside him at all times let out a low, threatening growl. Queenie took a step backwards.

'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all—' Tina began, her hand wrapping around her former mentor's shoulder, guiding him back toward the door with unmistakable intent.

'I told you I was the last person he would want to see,' Graves answered, his tone heavy with frustration and with something else, which sounded eerily like disappointment.

At the sound of the voice he had known – and longed for – for so long, Credence felt a shiver start at the top of his nape and run along his spine, all the way down to his tailbone. Eyes closed, he breathed in, then out.

'Wait,' Credence uttered after a few seconds, his voice surprisingly steady. 'Let me talk to him.'

'Credence, I'm not sure—'

'I'm okay, Miss Goldstein,' he interrupted with kindness. 'I can do this—I want to.'

Reluctantly, Tina released the Auror's shoulder, stepping aside silently.

Credence took a few hesitant steps forward, stopping right under the single ceiling pendant. The white light felt crude and unforgiving upon his skin, and he could feel his shoulders beginning to curl back inward, little by little.

There was much to be said, and yet the too-sharp words seemed to be stuck down his throat, threatening to scratch and cut the flesh on their way out.

'Mr Barebone?' Percival eventually asked, his tone warm yet unsure.

Just for a moment, Credence was grateful for the man's words.

Perhaps he had sensed the boy's inner turmoil—after all, Grindelwald had always seemed incredibly skilled at that.

'Mr Graves,' Credence whispered back, pointedly avoiding the other man's gaze. He could feel the Auror's eyes on him, seeking his. He refused to give in.

'I'm—sorry,' Percival said kindly, seemingly unsure of how to address the young man he had once almost befriended. 'For everything that happened.'

Credence remained silent, unreadable.

'For everything he did—I did to you,' he completed after a beat.

At these words, something in Credence's chest suddenly began tearing itself apart. He could almost hear the wounded cries of the dark creature wrapped around his heart: loud, pitiful, and oddly reminiscent of his own sobs.

Without thinking, he looked up at the sorrow-ridden face before him, at the infinitely soft and gentle traits he had been seeking for so long. But all he could see was Grindelwald, staring right back at him.

He fell to his knees, scorching tears running alongside his hollow cheeks.

How he hated that face.

How he'd loved that face.

Silently, Graves kneeled down until they were at eye-level. He kept his head bent down, however, avoiding Credence's eyes in turn.

His hair was just as dark, and just as enticing as Credence remembered.

Something twisted in the boy's stomach; he felt sick.

'I'm sorry, Credence,' the Auror repeated, in a whisper no one else would hear. He waited, then placed a tentative hand upon the young man's trembling, twisting fingers.

His touch was so light Credence wondered if he was there at all.

He had given the man who wore this face everything he had, everything he was. He'd devoted every miserable remnant of his life to him, in a desperate attempt to be loved in return.

It had never been enough—he had never been enough.

And still, still, Credence wanted him.

He felt a warm tear crash upon his wrist. He couldn't even tell if it was his own.

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading - you guys are lovely.

Much love,
Wil.

PS: Chapter 2 should be up in a couple days; it'll be inspired by Miike Snow's 'Genghis Khan'.