"Ever fearful of the answer, when the candle in the tunnel, is flickering and sputters and fading faster. It's only then that you will know, what lies above or down below or if these fictions only prove, how much you've really got to lose…It's either quite a master plan or just chemicals that help us understand, that when our hearts stop ticking, this is the end and there's nothing past this" – 'St Peter's Cathedral' – Death Cab for Cutie

Newt was unsure of the sight of Percival that awaited him the next time he woke. The last one had been both alarmingly like the fake-Percival he had recognised before but also disarmingly new. The small smiles, the laughter that seemed to just not be Grindelwald's, alongside the reassuring, cautious behaviour was enough to lull him, if only a little. But he was well aware of the unlikelihood of this all being real – the scenario that Grindelwald was gone, that no one else had been hurt, that he was in less pain than he had been for a long time and that Percival was alive and being so sweet and caring to him… he was struggling to believe that any of it was real. It just seemed to be more like another one of Grindelwald's tricks to lull him into a false sense of security before he began hurting him again.

This image honestly just left him even more confused. The sight of Director Percival Graves being yelled at by Newt's older brother was more bemusing than anything else. Percival was sat still in the bed across from him, looking oddly formal even in his blue striped nightshirt and tucked into the blankets as he was. But the expression on his face was what perplexed Newt – it was halfway between attempted patience and frustration as Theseus continued to raise his voice. His elder brother's back was to Newt and Percival seemed to be a little preoccupied with the verbal assault being levelled at him to spare much attention Newt's way as he watched. He absently noticed that his arm itched.

The sight of both his brother and the maybe-Percival being there at the same time made Newt slightly less suspicious of the latter, as he couldn't imagine that Grindelwald would bother trying to find someone to impersonate his brother on top of his own Percival façade. It seemed like too much effort for him to go to just to try to trick Newt – the dark wizard already knew that Newt had seen through him quickly before. And besides, the argument that the two were clearly having seemed too real for to all be for show – neither genuinely seemed to realise Newt was awake. Grindelwald wasn't usually one to ignore him.

Newt didn't sit up or move too much from his position against the pillows as he didn't want to draw too much attention to himself, but he also didn't like the tone with which Theseus was addressing maybe-Percival. He couldn't imagine what the American Auror could have done to upset his brother quite this much. He usually reserves this amount of yelling for you, doesn't he?

"- just irresponsible and selfish!" Newt properly tuned in on Theseus' words just as the man paused, shoulders tense and the back of his neck visible above his neat collar looking flushed with annoyance. Percival just continued to regard him patiently but with irritation clear in the set of his lips and brows.

"If you're quite finished, Scamander, I think it might be best if you left before the staff escort you out again." As if sensing Theseus about to give another angry outburst - I bet his face has turned something closer to jam colour by now - Percival raised his hand and cut across him. "I understand your concerns, but this is between Newt and myself – I would rather gauge his opinion on the matter before you start making his decisions for him. I'm certainly not going to attempt to force him into anything and neither do I intend on raising the matter before he is ready."

Unsure of what exactly they were talking about, other than that it seemed to concern him, Newt was tempted to vocalize his confusion, but at the same time finding some solace in just watching the interaction and not being the subject of unwanted attention. He knew that the moment either of them noticed he was awake they would put themselves on guard again and Theseus would likely just fuss over him. Or that the illusion would break. Unfortunately, the choice was taken away from him by the Percival in the bed looking over to him and noticing he was awake. The Auror's face looked to be a tad abashed at having been caught talking about him and he straightened further against the bedframe. This was just another little reaction that made Newt a bit more confident in his hope that this might well be the real Percival – Grindelwald never looked embarrassed by anything, let alone feeling shame for anything he had done in Newt's presence.

"Newt, how are you feeling?" Newt cringed at the question as Theseus consequentially turned to face him, a red flush present on his cheeks and a combination of annoyance and concern swirling in his blue eyes.

Newt didn't venture a verbal response but nodded softly – he felt better than he had in days, as if the ever-present pain was trapped under a funny, fuzzy layer that kept it dull and distant. He had the feeling that the shimmer of spells in the air around him were likely the source of the dampened feeling, but overall the multiple injuries coating his body beneath the sheets had clearly been treated properly. When he had awoken earlier to the maybe-Percival hovering over him, his body had been a familiar flare of different but mostly indiscernible agonies that had only worsened as he struggled away. This second time in waking had left him a little more cognizant what with the lessened suffering and having had time enough to wake on his own rather than being shocked out a reminiscent nightmare by a perceived living one.

His head felt oddly heavy, as if there was a weight beyond the effects of the healing and numbing charms that laced the air around him. The presence of that odd little voice was dampened a bit but there was something else, niggling away at the back of his mind that left him feeling… off. He couldn't quite name what it was, but it lingered on from his dreaming state into his waking moments despite the presence of healing magic in the room. It was sort of like a layer of sand weighing down the bottom of his mind - damp and heavy but ever shifting along with the ebb and flow of...something. It could have been easy to pass the feeling off as foreign magic, but that didn't feel like quite the right description either.

As Theseus stepped forward now, Newt did not shrink away and offered him a slight twitch of his lips to attempt to reassure him. His fingers curled around the edge of the blanket, feeling surprised as fresh pain flared up hungrily in his left hand and he gasped, glancing down to see some of the oddest-looking scars he had ever witnessed. The blood-stained skin was now veined with spirals of glassy-silver that he could feel within his flesh. Newt stared, transfixed down at what could only be the remnants of the blood-pact branded into him – he had been aware of the agony as the pact had tested him, but he hadn't realised that the connection had made a permanent physical connection such as this. Now that he had noticed it however, he couldn't seem to not notice it – the itching, uncomfortable sensation of solid yet fragile feeling materials inside his arm and hand made him want to claw at his flesh to just get the stuff out.

Without realising it, Newt's breathing had spiked, and he was feeling rather dizzy with the need to rid himself of the horrible, immovable feeling that had set itself inside him. Not just in his flesh but in his head and heart as well. The idea that the bond that had once connected Albus and Grindelwald was now residing within him was unsettling – it felt like he was being forced in between the two men even more than he already was. He had thought that once the bond was transferred to him, he would die, and this would all be over - that he could attempt to move past the horrors he had endured and witnessed with the help of his creatures and friends. But the scarred silver markings were a painful reminder that it wouldn't happen.

Newt felt hot tears prick at the backs of his eyes as he suddenly felt a weight settle on the mattress beside him and he flinched, his head jerking up to look at Theseus. His brother's expression was uncharacteristically soft and aggrieved as he regarded Newt and gently reached forward to pull Newt's right hand from where it had apparently been attacking the left. His fingernails had unconsciously been digging into the ridges of metal in a vain attempt to pry them out - blood bubbling up in thin lines along the wounds, staining his nails. The younger man released a shuddering exhale as Theseus removed his grip, hovering slightly as if worried Newt might continue, but he didn't. "Thanks, Thee…"

The use of his childhood nickname sent a twinge of something odd that Newt couldn't quite put his finger on, across his sibling's face and he offered a grim smile. "No worries, little brother."

"W-what- what happened to G-grindelwald?" Newt ventured his inner fears in a soft but firm voice, bringing his eyes up to meet Theseus' – a rare direct demand for honesty. Theseus sighed and shifted to stand instead, hands delving habitually into his pockets and briefly glancing to where Percival sat before looking back to Newt. The magizoologist relaxed very slightly at the distance, he wasn't scared of his brother, but he wasn't feeling up to having anyone too near him right now.

"Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, about three days ago now, and – against the wishes of the Ministries – apparently secured him in a location that he refuses to disclose to any of us." Theseus scowled slightly at this – clearly unhappy with the personal approach and lack of propriety that Albus was taking with the dark wizard. "His supporters are being hunted down and imprisoned across the globe as many exposed themselves during that business in Paris. My department even managed to track down the Obscurial and contain him – Tina has been charged by MACUSA – under my recommendations - to watch over him until the boy's fate is decided by the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

The words brought a little relief to Newt, but the idea that Grindelwald was imprisoned once more did not bring as much reprieve as he would have hoped – the wizard had escaped from MACUSA's finest cells before. Even the idea that Albus himself was handling the situation did not make Newt's worry any less – not even Albus was faultless and his care for Grindelwald could lead him to more lenient than necessary with any restraints. There was a small, niggling part of Newt's mind that felt some tiny traces of pity for the idea of Grindelwald being defeated and locked away by the man he still harboured twisted, yet genuine feelings for.

He was glad however, that it was Tina who had been allowed to care for Credence – the boy had already suffered enough and hopefully Tina would be able to act as a much-needed balm of affection on his wounds. Hopefully, with Grindelwald out of the way and his followers being imprisoned, Credence might be allowed to live without fear anymore. Newt was also glad that in some odd way – his own suffering had acted as enough of a distraction that Grindelwald had left the boy alone. Had apparently forgotten his threats against him in light of his new obsession?

"Right…" It was all Newt could think to say and Theseus looked like he wanted to say more but was interrupted as the door to the hospital room opened and a severe looking nurse in a white smock bustled in. She came directly over to Newt and he eyed the newcomer slightly cautiously, the fingers of his uninjured hand playing nervously with the edge of the blankets again.

"Awake? Trefflich. How do you feel?" The fractured English was laced with a heavy German accent and Newt nodded as he had to the earlier question. She seemed dissatisfied with his response however and withdrew a short, dark wand and began waving it over him in spiralling patterns.

Though he recognised the pink glimmer spell for their diagnostic purposes he couldn't contain his flinch at the various memories of Grindelwald making similar movements around him to inflict pain. Percival's voice thankfully distracted him from his discomfort as the movements continued and he gratefully averted his gaze to look at the other patient. "Your Bowtruckle friend seems eager to see you again. Tina brought him here earlier, but you were still asleep, so she left her with me."

"Him." Newt corrected softly with a half-smile – it was admittedly difficult to gender Bowtruckles without knowing the creatures well, so Percival's mistake was a common one.

A familiar little green head poked out from Percival's top pyjama pocket and Newt felt a thrill of joy at seeing Pickett safe and sound again after what felt such a long time. Despite his worries of being accused of favouritism towards the patriarch and repeatedly trying to leave him with his family when he left the house – Pickett had always seemed to find his way back into his coat pocket. He was heart-warmingly loyal to him and he loved him all the more for it, even if he was a cheeky little thing at times.

He had to admit he was surprised the skittish creature taking such an apparent liking to Percival however and the fact that he seemed to like him reassured Newt that bit more that this wasn't another trick. The Bowtruckle seemed content to be handed back over to Newt by one of Percival's long fingers as he leant forwards across the gap between their beds. He smiled a little more as he remembered the similar scene that had taken place between Percival and himself in New York when they had first officially met. It seemed that the little creature had a knack for bringing the two of them together.

"Keine Haustiere erlaubt!" The nurse's harsh voice and unfortunate choice of wording cut through Newt like a knife and he flinched back from her into the pillows, blinking rapidly, teeth clenching slightly. In his head, he knew that it was probably just an incidental phrasing, but even so, the familiar yet unfamiliar word jolted him into a string of unpleasant memories. He forced them back with irritation – he couldn't let every single familiar word or gesture put him off like this. They were just coincidences and besides, he didn't even really know what the word meant – it could well be completely accidental and common utterance. Or it could be something else – difficult not being sure isn't it?

None of them seemed to have noticed his reaction or if they had, then they did not mention it, instead Theseus said something back to the nurse in rudimentary German that made her frown further but nod stiffly. Theseus in turn nodded to Newt who reached out again and took Pickett from Percival, allowing his friend to climb along his arm and nuzzle against his face. He smiled fondly down at the Bowtruckle as he settled down in the hollow of his pronounced collarbone. It felt unbelievably relieving to have such a familiar presence back with him as Pickett began chirping away – scolding him for the state he'd gotten himself into. Newt chuckled slightly at his indignance and cossetting behaviour.

"Wasn't exactly my fault you know Pick. Save it for your own children why don't you." His murmur prompted a breathy chuckle from Percival and Newt glanced up to see Percival regarding him with a soft, incredibly warm look smouldering in his chocolate brown eyes.

He could tell that the older man likely wasn't laughing at his words but at the sight of him being mother-henned over by a Bowtruckle. But that warmth… it was odd to see – the last few times he had seen Percival, before coming to this hospital, he had been stern and distracted. Now he just looked concerned and oddly fond. It made heat rise in Newt's cheeks to be looked at in such a way by the imposing, handsome Auror… and in front of his brother no less. Newt ducked his head to fix his gaze upon the sheets in his lap for want of something to distract him from the pleasant, equally warm sensation that was kindling within his chest.

Fortunately, Newt was saved from the awkward silence that had filled the room by someone opening the door just as the nurse was going to leave. The two sidestepped around one another politely and Albus entered the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him as he removed his hat and leather gloves.

The man looked infinitely weary as he nodded a greeting to each of the men in turn – his face weathered, eyes sunken in their sockets and surrounded by dark circles. He seemed to have aged nearly ten years in the short time since Newt had seen him. Though he smiled at Newt, his lips seemed a little thinner than before, underneath a beard now streaked more liberally with grey than auburn. It seemed as though whatever lengths he went to in order to defeat and secure Grindelwald had drained him terribly.

"Good to see you awake, Newt." His voice was pitched in his usual even tone that contrasted with his haggard looking appearance. "I would have visited sooner, but securing Gellert was no simple feat, in fact in was rather consuming. But I can assure you all, that I have done everything within my rather expansive – if I do say so myself – capabilities to make sure that he shall not be making any more dramatic escapes in the foreseeable future."

The wry humour in Albus' tone further contrasted with the earnestness Newt could see in his blue eyes – he clearly wanted to ensure that the magizoologist was sure of his sincerity even if the tone was kept light for the sake of consolation and of placating Theseus' obvious irritation. Newt wasn't sure how to respond to the words, but he got the feeling that the other man knew his message had been conveyed and received as intended, as a little of the tension leaked out of his furrowed brows. There was a twinge in the heaviness of Newt's mind that left him confused as he got the distinct feeling that Albus wished to speak with him alone - about something important. He wasn't sure where the impression came from, but whatever it was, made him quite certain of the idea.

"Uh Thee… um could you possibly give us a minute?" He turned his gaze to study his brother's shoulder and heard an annoyed huff of breath leave him before he looked between Newt and Albus. "Please?" That seemed to do it as Theseus let out another irritated exhale but strode off, nonetheless.

The door shut a little louder than he had perhaps intended as Theseus left the room, but Newt couldn't help but be slightly bemused by the state of near-constant irritation he seemed to be in at the moment. He clearly wasn't happy with Albus or Percival for whatever reasons.

Newt turned an apologetic, uncertain gaze towards Percival but the Auror seemed to pre-empt him by making the attempt to push himself up out of the bed to stand. "My legs could use a stretch about now – been stuck in bed far too long already."

Newt sent him a grateful and still awkward smile as Percival too left the room, eying Newt oddly for a few moments before closing the door behind him. Newt regarded Albus, still slightly wary as the older man went to sit on the wooden visitor's chair on the other side of his bed.

"How- how did you do that?" Newt stumbled out and Albus' brow furrowed slightly at the question.

"Do what?"

"You- I um felt that you wanted to talk… in my…um mind…" He trailed off lamely, unsure of how to voice his confusion and the feeling without sounding like an idiot. Albus's expression softened and he nodded in understanding.

"That was a part of what I wished to discuss with you." His voice was slightly stilted as he seemed to choose his words with great care, as if unsure of how to approach. "The breaking of the Blood-pact has had consequences that I had not thought possible."

"What do you mean?" Newt asked puzzledly and Albus sighed before speaking with that same great care. This was no longer the voice of the confident, patient teacher nor the resigned warrior – it was of a man who truly was unsure of what he was experiencing or how to voice it but was attempting to reassure others by maintaining his usual verbosity.

"The research that both Gellert and I had done into the subject of blood-pacts had led us to believe that once the bond was transferred into a living vessel – namely yourself – then they would be tested for… suitability by the magic and then were… sacrificed in the process. However…" His gaze was uncertain, pained and apologetic though traced with something akin to fascination. "it seems that the bond found you to be… more than suitable to bear the pact and instead of destroying you... it integrated."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

Blue eyes met blue with increasing intensity "The bond is a living thing in itself, Newt – born of blood and magic; of a connection between two individuals. It seems that it simply decided that you were… a close enough match to the participants – namely myself and Gellert - that it remained within you. It latched on and against all odds – survived in a lessened form to live in a new vessel. As a living host I'm not entirely sure what it would mean for you, but I have a notion that some of the side-effects that Gellert and I experienced from the bond may have been passed on into you."

"For instance, the ability to sense one another's minds and heightened state of emotions. That would be why you sensed my earlier desire to speak with you in private – through different means than the usual social ques that you would have otherwise likely missed." He offered a pained smile to Newt that was heart-wrenching to witness when combined with the sincere guilt and grief in his eyes. "Instead of breaking the blood-bond, I seem to have only cemented your role as an unwilling intermediary between myself and Gellert. I don't believe there are words that could express how sorry I am for this, Newt."

As the implications of Albus' words sunk in, Newt was surprised to find that the words were not nearly as troubling as they should have been.

Despite the fact that he was now connected through blood, magic and minds to the man who had made his life a living hell.

Despite the fact that he was now emotionally entuned with two men caught between love and hate for another.

Despite the fact that he was now essentially trapped in a blood-bond with the darkest wizard of his time…. Newt could not drudge up any more resentment, terror or shock.

He knew he should be feeling a multitude of overwhelming emotions right now, but the odd, heavy feeling that resided within his mind gave him the comforting feeling that this was how the situation was meant to resolve itself. It was not quite like the blindly placating, careless fog of the Imperius curse – it was a more genuine feeling that made a logical sense that magical manipulation usually lacked.

There was nothing to be done about the bond – he could feel that it was immovable. Attempting to remove it would be akin to trying to empty the oceans of their silt foundations. That same granular, infinite and ever-shifting sensation now lay in the very foundations of his consciousness. Rather than worry obsessively and futilely over the things he couldn't change, Newt knew that he should apply his usual practical, adaptable nature to this new situation.

He could sense that nothing essential about himself had been altered by the presence of the bond – the only changes he was experiencing were the aftermath of what Grindelwald had done to him. That would be a pain that would not be easy to overcome, it would take time to get past – not to forget – but to learn to live with the seemingly frequent reminders of what he had endured. But that's what his friends, creatures and his brother were there for. To help him through the mires of misery and madness he had been submerged into. Newt knew that he was worrying further them with his skittish behaviour and lack of verbal responses and felt guilt eat at him – though he couldn't help the reactions – it wouldn't be fair for them to worry without knowing how to help. He knew better than most how much being unsure of how to help another could eat away at you. He recognized that he would have to open up to them and talk about what had happened before he could begin to heal.

It was the same kind of care and logic he had used himself over and over with caged, suffering or delirious creatures and, though it was difficult to apply that same logical subjectivity to himself after all that had happened, there was something that told him he could do it. It wasn't the quiet, often cruelly candid little voice – he sensed that this helpful honesty was stemming from the base of the bond. He looked over to meet Albus' concerned, twinkling blue gaze which was now alit with a twinge of hopeful warmth and Newt gave him a tired smile.

This bond might have more benefits that he had originally thought. It seemed as though the meaning and the reassuring words Albus had intended for him had all been transferred without a single word passing either of their lips.

"I wasn't sure if that would actually work, you know." Albus' voice was soft and held a light humour and Newt raised an eyebrow.

"I- is there anything else I should know or that you could tell me?" Newt paused, a frown creasing his brows slightly as he continued. "I think I've had enough surprises and people in my head for a lifetime."

Albus looked regretful but slightly calmer than before – as if the tension of anticipating Newt's reaction had left him feeling inexplicably better. Though he still looked at felt inexhaustibly exhausted, Newt could now focus more upon the sense that the older man was suffering from a massive overexertion of magic. He had put everything he had into ensuring that Gellert would stay exactly where he was.

"Well, as I said, this is somewhat new territory in terms of magical law or explorations, but from what I can discern about the nature of the pact that I have experienced for myself is that you will experience a sense of shared consciousness?" The last part was left as a question to which Newt nodded.

"But wait… how were you and Grindelwald able to fight one another with the bond still being intact?" He voiced the query as the confusion struck him.

"I cannot be certain, but I suspect that as the blood-pact took you to be an acceptable – even perfect – host, it remained active but instead of inflicting the penance of us breaking the terms on us as would have happened otherwise… it did so upon you." He looked apologetic again as his gaze went to examine Newt's left arm with puzzled fascination. "I believe it was why the bond made such a… physical mark upon you and drained you of almost all your strength. When I came to you after apprehending Gellert, you were... very near death – it took a great deal of magic to bring you back enough to transport you to more experienced hands."

Newt took this in with widened eyes - the situation was undoubtedly surreal but at the same time there was the strangest feeling that he had been… prepared for it. He couldn't explain it, but that seemed like the right way to phrase it.

"It's funny you should think that." Albus said with a fond breath of laughter. "I have held a sneaking suspicion that your affinity with creatures may have been part of what drew the bond in. As I said, the blood-pact holds a life of its own and a sense that allows it to verify whether a potential host is worthy, and I suspect that your natural gift with creatures may have had a hand in satisfying it."

Newt nodded, feeling eternally unsure of how to respond to the seemingly never-ending stream of bizarre occurrences and utterances that had been surrounding him as of late. He felt as if his capacity to be shocked had almost dried up by now. But he was infinitely fortunate to know that his creature friends were there for him – even if his human ones grew impatient or uncaring, he would still have his creatures. Theseus could be as mad at him, Percival and Albus as he wanted but Newt could always still rely on the fact that his creatures would be there for him. Feeling Pickett nuzzle affectionately against his bruised and bitten – marked - neck, he could feel some semblance of peace flowing through him.

Gellert was secured away. He had felt Albus' honesty in the matter and he knew that it wasn't likely that the dark wizard was going to be able to hurt anyone ever again as long as he was trapped by Albus' magic…. He had the Elder Wand. That realisation surprised him out of his silent reverie, and he glanced up to Albus again with concerned, questioning eyes. He wasn't sure how he felt about his friend holding the wand that had caused so much harm to so many people – including himself.

Albus withdrew the wand, alongside his own and held them in light, tentative grips before him; almost as if showing them up to Newt for his opinion. He regarded the abnormally long, knobbled wand and the strange white symbols carved into the handle with some trepidation. If the tales of Beedle the Bard were to be believed – then this was the most powerful wand in existence… and Albus now owned it.

"What are you going to do with it? If you don't mind me asking…" He ventured and Albus looked uncertain once more.

"I had to use it to remove the numerous layers of spells that Grindelwald had woven across the world – into people, creatures, objects and buildings alike before using it again to secure him within Nurmengard." He turned questioning eyes up to Newt and the magizoologist could sense that he was requesting permission once more. "There is one final act that I could perform with this should you allow me to?"

"W-what would that be exactly?" Newt asked nervously, fingers fiddling with the blankets once more, left hand twinging in pain as he did so. Albus' gaze followed Newt's down to the left hand, and he hesitated before speaking.

"I would be able to remove some of the more… persistent magic that Gellert worked upon you with the use of the wand that inflicted it." Newt swallowed slightly before giving a jerky nod – anything that could alleviate the physical reminders of his treatment would be worth the temporary discomfort of seeing Gellert's wand in Albus' hand.

Newt gritted his teeth as Albus took his arm in a gentle grip with one hand and raised the Elder Wand with the other, moving it back and forth in gradually increasing spiralling patterns - following the lines of scarred silver. The reddened tinge to Newt's skin began to fade, returning to its usual pale, freckled state as the magic worked into his flesh. The irritated skin from where Newt had clawed at the markings too disappeared and some of the discomfort lessened… but the silver markings remained.

Albus frowned but sighed slightly, as if having expected such a result "That is unfortunate. I'm sorry, Newt, but there is something preventing any attempts of reversal for the marks themselves. All I can do is ease the pain."

"Thank you for trying." Newt murmured, gazing down at the new, apparently permeant additions to his body. At least they looked a little less vibrant against the pale tone of his skin now – the silver and glass no longer contrasting so harshly with the bloody colour of before. He hesitated before looking up to Albus with an awkward, apologetic quirk of his lips. "Is t-there um- any chance you could do anything about this?"

Newt shakily unbuttoned and pulled aside the top of his nightshirt to reveal the seared sign of the Deathly Hallows. There was a twinge of pain in Albus' expression but he nodded and raised his wand. Though Newt could feel the strain this was having on the elder wizard's magic, this spell seemed to take better effect as the symbol slowly, ever so slowly began to disappear beneath the guided power of the Elder Wand. Soon, all that was left was a very pale set of raised white scars that almost completely blended into the rest of Newt's milky skin – a pale mockery remaining of what had once been severe, angry black burns.

"Thank you." He said earnestly, knowing exactly how much that had taken out of the other wizard. Newt gently released his grip upon the neck of his shirt, letting it fall back across the now partially healed skin. He eyed the Elder Wand again warily. "But what exactly do you plan to do with it now?"

"In order to maintain the spells and wardings I placed upon Gellert, I cannot destroy it, but I do not intend to use it beyond that function." He looked down at the wand in his hand with conflict clear in his gaze but also those familiar traces of wonder that Newt had seen before. Holding the object that made up one third of the Deathly Hallows – the most powerful Hallow that he had spent his younger years coveting and seeking. It must hold great temptation to him. Even after all it had done… Newt could sense that Albus could see the wand for the good it could do. But there was also a part of him that simply wished to hold it because it would make him powerful above all others – an academic, indefinable craving for power.

Power like that was a force that could be harnessed for great good or great evil. But it could be especially corrupting to those who fought against temptation on a regular basis – those who strived against their inner demons to be better. Albus did not need that added pressure by using the wand further than was necessary.

Albus tore his gaze away from the Elder Wand to look up at Newt with surprise and a different kind of wonder etched across his weathered face, blue eyes brighter than usual. "You're wise beyond your years, Newt."

Newt chuckled at that. "I think Theseus might disagree with you there."

Albus replied with a chuckle of his own and stowed both wands back into his inner cloak pockets, moving to stand. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you of all people that your brother is not always right – a good man though he is." His eyes flickered towards the door before going back to Newt with a new softness. "He may believe that he's doing what's best for you, but I advise you not to let any opportunities slip away from you because of his disapproval. There are few worse things than being alone in life, but one that I know too well is the pain of acting too late."

Newt was going to question what he meant; oddly not being able to sense the meaning behind his words as Albus went to leave. When he opened the door, he revealed a slightly sheepish, though still defiant looking Percival standing there. If Newt didn't know better, he might have thought that the man was eavesdropping. As it was, he entered the room through the held-open door and returned to his bed, settling back down with a slight wince, gripping his side as he settled himself back down. Albus nodded once to both men, shooting Newt a smile as he replaced his hat and gloves with quick, elegant movements.

"I wish you a wholehearted recovery, Newt."

Newt smiled his thanks and then the door closed, leaving him and the man he was nearly entirely sure was Percival, alone once more. Newt felt rather drained all of a sudden - as if the sudden lack of new things to worry about had left him deflated. He had been running on fumes until now. The feeling in his head was present as ever, though now felt less leaden – likely due to the absence of another bond participant in the room. He leant back against the pillows, trying very hard not to think of everything that had led up to this moment. But even someone as stubborn as Newt Scamander could not ward off the horrors of what had happened forever. With no more distractions, even the presences of Pickett and Percival could not distract him.

The voice began its insistent whispering after a blissfully long absence. How are you ever going to fix any of this, Newt? You were tortured for days. You were molested ands nearly raped by the darkest wizard of your time who you are now bound to in blood, magic and mind – forever! You were forced to eat the butchered flesh of your own father. How are you going to tell Theseus hmm? How're you gonna tell him that you ate daddy dearest? That he died because Grindelwald was trying to impress you? That you had Gellert Grindelwald lusting after you? I think we both know that there isn't any amount of 'friendship' in the world that can heal this kind of broken-

Newt hadn't realised that tears had been seeping from his scrunched closed eyes as his head lay heavily against the pillow until they shocked open. There was a warm, rough hand on his cheek, rubbing away at the trails of tears that streaked them with gentle touches. It wasn't like Grindelwald's touch – it wasn't violent or cloying enough to make his skin crawl. This touch was soft and genuine, as was the warm, crackling concern that shone in Percival's bottomless brown eyes. There was a clear hesitance to the way he was crouched on the floor beside his bed – not attempting to impeach upon his personal space as Grindelwald would have. His slightly slumped, pain tensed posture, that told Newt the Auror was almost as unsure of his intentions as Newt was.

And that was what made Newt stay in the touch.

Percival had seen the pain he was in, had witnessed the struggle of not breaking down and he had offered what physical contact he could to make it better. The surprise of the tender gesture was a familiar thing to him, but the warmth that rekindled in his aching chest was brand new.

It was hope.

A/N – Well that's the last chapter of this one! Sorry it took so long again and that it was kind of flaky. But I rewrote it a hundred times and this was the best result. The sequel was distracting me too much as I already have most of it planned out, but if anyone has suggestions or requests, I'm more than willing to include em!

It will be much more Gramander based but there will be a lot of dark though not violent themes in it…. so be warned!