Your Hand In Mine
Disclaimer: All Fantastic Beasts names, characters and locations belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing that you recognize.
A/N: I read an article online which stated that Credence is ambidextrous. I wanted to expand upon that idea, and thus my story was born.
Nagini was the first to notice something strange about her friend. She already knew that Credence had many peculiar habits, mostly due to the abuse he'd suffered in the past. But this was different. It was subtle, something nobody would notice unless they were sitting next to him.
They were sitting at the picnic tables which served as a makeshift dining area, their fellow performers seated around them when Credence and Nagini reached for a pitcher of water at the same time. When this happened, Credence accidentally elbowed her in the side, startling the Maledictus.
She recoiled in surprise, her hand making contact with the pitcher and knocking it over. Credence quickly leaned across the table, muttering apologies as he caught the pitcher in both hands.
"No, it was my fault," Nagini insisted, her quiet voice barely noticeable above the murmur of conversation that filled the tent. "I was sitting too close to you. I'm sorry."
She looked down at Credence, his sleeves now soaking wet, and apologized again.
"It's alright," Credence mumbled, averting his gaze. He set the pitcher upright and scooted off to the side, keeping his head down while he waited for her to finish refilling her glass.
The incident repeated itself a few days later when they were sitting down to dinner, the Obscurial and the Maledictus taking a seat beside each other in the dining area.
Nagini paused, the fork halfway to her mouth when she felt Credence's left arm brush against her right. When it happened again she looked at him, her expression curious, and once more he lowered his gaze, scooting sideways across the bench.
She began to pay attention to his movements, watching from a distance whenever he was tasked with feeding the animals. In time she noticed a pattern beginning to emerge, his left hand carrying the feed bucket as he reached for the bag of food with his right.
He sat down with the bucket between his legs, using both hands to pour the feed then grasping the handle with his right hand. This pattern often repeated during other tasks, with Credence switching back and forth depending on what he was doing.
He didn't appear to notice which hand he was using, or perhaps he hadn't given it any thought because he was used to the pattern. And in the morning when he woke, Credence would snatch his clothes off the dresser with whatever hand was closest, doing up the buttons on his shirt with one hand while smoothing his hair with the other.
Finally, after several days of observation, Nagini decided to confront him on the matter, approaching him in their shared living quarters after the audience had gone home for the night.
The bedsprings squealed in protest as Credence sat down, sighing heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow. He was still shaking when Nagini entered the room, his breath coming slowly, measuring each one in an effort to control the darkness within.
"I don't like it out there, Nagini," he said, shaking his head and staring at the floor.
She sat down beside him, lifting a hand and rubbing his back as he slumped against her shoulder. He was tired, the strain of performing night after night taking its toll on him, and for a moment Nagini wondered if this was a bad time to discuss the matter of Credence switching hands when he worked.
Together they sat in silence, the minutes passing slowly until Credence had sufficiently relaxed. He was dozing on her shoulder when her voice reached his ears, his eyes fluttering open and gazing at her in the dim light of the room.
"Credence, forgive me if this is a bad time, but I was wondering if we could talk. Just for a little while," she added, seeing that he was exhausted and probably wanted to go to bed early.
"What do you want to talk about?" Credence asked, a hint of curiosity present in his tone. He was always so kind, so gentle and sweet even when she knew he was hurting.
"It's about our encounters during mealtimes," she began awkwardly, letting her gaze drift towards his hands. "I've noticed that we keep bumping into each other. Not that I mind," she tacked on at the end, fearing that he might take this the wrong way. "But I've been watching you lately, and I noticed that you keep changing which hand you use when you're doing something."
Credence was silent, clasping his hands in his lap. He seemed uncomfortable, unwilling to speak.
"Credence?" Nagini pressed, edging closer and slipping an arm around his shoulders. "Is something wrong?"
"My mother..." Credence began, only to falter. He shifted slightly, bowing his head and wringing his hands. "My adoptive mother used to beat me. She would whip me with my belt as a form of punishment. Across my back, across my hands... So I started switching hands, using whichever wasn't bleeding as badly as the other."
He was trembling now, unclasping his hands and showing her his palms.
Nagini blinked and cocked her head to the side, inching closer for a better look. She could see that his left hand was more heavily scarred than the right, the thin white lines overlapping, traveling downwards where they all but formed a ring around his wrist.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know."
Credence was silent once more, leaning against her and closing his eyes. A minute passed before he felt her hand close around his, assuring him that everything would be alright. For although the scars would linger, so too would her presence, helping him heal after the pain he endured.