"Oh speak to me, I swear I'm listening, show me all the things I've been missing.

Let me kindly step aside and let these heavenly objects collide. Speak to me I'm finally listening.

And oh how easily distracted, oh how awfully we overreacted, oh how easily deceived, you're the only one I believe. Give me something that I can believe in.

Oh sing to me, don't worry there's nobody else around. Sing to me, your voice is the only thing that calms me down…

Sing to me, your song is the only thing I need right now." – 'Give me something' – Devotchka

"Do you think you'd like me or would you turn and walk away fast if I told you from whence I came and all the sordid details of my inglorious past?

I'll tell you why I'm afraid. Would you leave me for dead or would you come to my aid if I don't tell you some pretty words, sure to keep you coming my way?

I never meant to lie but there are things we do and say to get by, little white lies, a small surprise how big they grow in size.

It all starts simple enough…in the hopes of putting air between you and the pain.

So grab a mask, fill up a flask and slither like a snake into the Masquerade.

Now, you've come so far and you feel like a star and you hope they never figure out who you really are." – 'Little white lies' – Aurelio Voltaire

The water went gushing over the tree stump, overwhelming it repeatedly without ever quite dislodging it from its little nook of space. It supported the weeds that grew around it and created a small pool of calm at the edge of the ever-moving waters. Newt watched it with a distant fascination, perched as he was by a rock just up the grassy bank, bare feet tingling and slightly numb from the cool water, his trousers rolled up to the knee, suspenders slipped off from his shoulders and shirt left to dry on the rock. He looked the epitome of a man relaxed and enjoying the brisk though sunny weather of the area surrounding Lake Placid. The late September cool wasn't too bad but the following months would be cold even in comparison with the British weather he was accustomed to.

He didn't mind it though, the various enclosures in his case and the ones situated in an underground warren below the safehouse provided enough variation in climate and scenery for him to still be able to relish in the times when he came out here to take in the spectacular view and bracing genuine conditions of upstate New York. For the purposes of not freezing or getting ill, he kept a subtle warming charm in the air around him, not too much, just enough so that he might enjoy the bracing breeze without any ill effects. The Magizoologist had been out there for most of the morning and well into the afternoon, dozing occasionally when the sun's progress into cloudbanks allowed it but mostly, he found himself contemplating.

As one might expect, he was surrounded by creatures, ones suited to the terrain that did not warrant constant supervision; and they roamed about the grassy hillocks behind him, splashed, swam and drank from the waters and often brought him items of interest. He'd developed quite a collection of dead rabbits and birds, a few stray insects and mostly particularly interesting plants and twigs from Picket and his branch. Whilst the kills were mostly snagged back by the creatures that brought them when they saw that Newt had no interest in eating them himself, Henry and Starktail had seemed to be under the impression that he was merely being stubborn like a common kit or yearling and had worked together in quite a bizarre and uncharacteristic coupling to encourage him to eat by dropping their catches directly into his lap or hand from different sides. He had been decidedly amused and touched by the attempts and repeatedly explained as best he could to them that he wasn't hungry but the creatures hadn't taken no for an answer until the Magizoologist had taken another of the offerings, thankfully an apple from Dougal who had noticed his conundrum and provided a more palatable option.

Now, however, most of the creatures had decided to retreat to either their homes or were curling up around where Newt sat and he was currently accompanied by Pickett's branch nesting in his hair, Starktail rested upon the ground behind him, Henry on the grass beside him with his great tusked head nuzzling into Newt's hand and Marius splashing and darting about in the deeper waters ahead of him. The rest of the creatures were settled into their habitats with the exception of the Fawkes, whom Newt had not seen since the day he left the Graves manor on the Irish Moors two weeks before. The Magizoologist had received a letter from Dumbledore three days ago that had assured him that both Credence and Fawkes had decided to stay in yet another of the teacher's safehouses, for now, Dumbledore aiming to continue his role in Credence's tutorage and safeguarding. He had also reassured Newt that Grindelwald was indeed secure and that, to the best of his investigations, Dumbledore had found no flaws in either the restrictions or in the process by which the dark wizard had separated himself from his magic.

It had been a somewhat mixed bag to discover that Grindelwald had retained his Seer's ability, comforting in the idea that Newt himself wouldn't be inheriting that particular ability but also a touch unnerving to think that Grindelwald might still be able to see his life and future even from within his imprisonment. But Newt didn't dwell on it: this was perhaps the first time in years that Grindelwald wasn't going to have any influence upon him and he wasn't going to let 'ifs', 'buts' and 'maybes' prevent him from moving on as best he could. As much as he thought Dumbledore's gesture of providing him with a home was unnecessarily extravagant and likely born out of guilt, he couldn't deny that he found the place perfect.

It was a reasonably-sized building of light-toned stone and quartzite, the main house consisting of two above-ground floors, insulated and cosy against the cold weather and naturally lit by numerous windows on all sides. The front door was framed by a stained-glass arch with ornate metal carvings of trees and plants. Despite its unassuming beauty, every inch of the house had been spelled with protective magic. The crowning glory of the house, however, was the underground labyrinth of enclosures mirroring those within his case and old London house: almost every habitat he could want worked into safe, divided areas but with a natural-seeming flow between each for environments that would naturally occur together. Grassy broad plains flowing into sparkling rivers and lakes which then flowed between and in through mountains and hills riddled with cave systems and alcoves that grew into ice-capped, forested mountain ranges. There were dessert terrains that remained isolated and dry but for the occasional oasis dotting the landscape, joined by jungles that grew thick and easy to get lost in due to their size and realism.

After spending almost an entire fortnight exploring and transferring his creatures into their new homes, he had been irrevocably struck by how much work, magic, attention and time must have gone into the labour. As much as he understood Dumbledore's sense of culpability for all that had occurred, and Newt even partially agreed with the sentiment, he was touched by how much his former teacher had worked, even in a superficial manner, to rectify his mistakes. Not only had Dumbledore given Newt a place to rest, recuperate and collect together the scattered pieces of himself that had been pulled and shredded like so much rubble, but he had also provided a place for Newt's creatures to truly roam and settle whilst remaining close to him. They were no longer confined to his case's limited habitats and the deteriorating state of the luggage itself. The creatures had space to roam, and the isolated location of the house allowed them to join Newt when he left, to go as far as the protections would allow with no fear of discovery. It was perfect.

Well, nearly.

Newt appreciated that Percival had much to deal with back in New York City, what with calling off the hunts for himself, Credence and Grindelwald, and providing evidence of all three situations having been properly dealt with on top of the aftermath that the Auror was suffering through - perhaps more so than Newt was. The Magizoologist had suffered a few bouts of familiar panic and a regular litany of nightmares since the events of the Graves manor but he had benefited from the company and reassurance of his creatures to help ground and soothe him. The Occamy with their winding and nipping, Pickett with his bolstering chirrups and even the Nifflers once succeeded in ending a panic attack by making the Magizoologist laugh to tears by toppling a pile of stolen silverware over him, causing some of the younger creatures to begin wrestling in an attempt to claim their favourite pieces back.

No, Newt was more worried about the isolation Percival was creating; he had remained in New York, only visiting once after Newt had first moved into the safehouse, and the younger man had felt that that had been more as a precaution to check the place's safety and suitability before he had been called back to work. Though Newt didn't remember hearing the familiar chime of the watch Percival wore to warn himself of such things. Newt was worried that his partner was only maintaining contact with him – and the pretence of continuing what they had spoken of together - because of his guilt and lingering concern for what had happened. He worried that Percival was isolating himself for reasons past necessity – that he was regretting his promises and was using his duty as a divider. He had tried not to let himself dwell upon it but after successfully settling both himself and his creatures in and exploring the surrounding area, he was finding it harder and harder not to dwell on troubling subjects. His concern for Percival. His thoughts and memories of Grindelwald. His worry for his brother and his ongoing mission.

And the swirling maelstrom of power within him. The magic that was swirling restlessly with his own, not quite separate but not quite integrated either, like oil on water, resting there, barely joined but floating on the surface still. It left him a little unsettled but he found that releasing the magic in small, regular bursts in everyday ways helped to ease the tension. He had been intrigued to see the colours of the creatures he knew so well, to see their magical auras that were dimmer than those of wizards but more solid – more clearly defined and unique between the same species. A hundred different variations of the same colours that were just barely detectable but twined around snouts, claws, eyes, fur, scales, fins, paws and wings in entrancing ways. He'd found working healing magic on them easier as he could see the threads of intentions and what made them, sealing the wounds, maladies and scars that would have previously eluded him. It was thrilling to see a case of fin rot disappear in a matter of minutes rather than slowly decay the Kelpie's fin and cause difficulty swimming. The same satisfaction came from being able to help the malformed leg of the Graphorn youngling, seeing the parents nuzzling their tentacles over the whole limb in rumbling appreciative gurgles that Newt couldn't help but grin to remember. It was fantastic.

It was only when the sun had dipped below the edge of the nearest hill that Newt withdrew his feet from the water, carefully extricating himself out from under the grumbling bodies of the creatures that had settled there and stretched, cracking joints before heading back up the cobbled path to the house. In his left hand, he held a bucket of lumps of meat, mostly empty but still full enough to tempt the Hippogriff and Zouwu to follow if they were feeling particularly stubborn and, in his right, a pair of supple leather boots. They were much like his old ones that the Salemers had burnt but of better quality, with charms woven into them that made them resistant to most elements as well as a variety of scuffs and stains.

They had been left in his case. He had found them sat primly upon a neat, nondescript bundle of brown wrapping paper in the shed upon a carefully cleared space on his desk, both his and Percival's wands lying beside them unharmed. And though he strongly suspected where they had come from even before he saw the neatly handwritten note that had been pinned to the paper bundle, he had picked them up nonetheless, seeing no shimmer of ill magic and knowing that despite Grindelwald's nature, this was not another trick but simply one of his odd little attempts at affection. He had supposed at the time that the wizard had left them there when Credence had emerged from his case, that he had sent them down whilst Newt had been lost in the haze of his agony at the scars on his heart. The boots had been useful, he couldn't deny that, but the contents of the package had been burnt in a somewhat jubilant, funereal frenzy soon after he had discovered them whilst clearing his case of its contents.

It had been clothes. Simple, mostly plain and perfectly to his usual fashion even if of a better make than his own. Like the boots, they had been charmed to be durable and Newt had had to call upon the assistance of the Firedrakes to help destroy the damn things. The only reason the boots had stuck around was that they had simply refused anything and everything he'd thrown at them…and, to be honest, he did need new boots. He hadn't wanted them, he didn't want the continued attempts at affection, at apology or claiming him – he didn't want to be bought or reminded of Grindelwald in any way past what he couldn't escape.

And the clothes had stank of him.

He had watched them burn with pride and a deep sense of relish. Grimacing at the paper of the packages burned away further to reveal layers of silk and lace clothing that had been neatly folded underneath the stack of trousers and shirts. The flames had roared ever higher and hotter with Newt's rage and the Salamanders and Firedrakes had burrowed deeper into the flames and ashes, revelling in the inferno that glowed and reflected upon the lake's surface. Newt could still see the large charred area by the waterside as he padded past it, dropping his boots and mostly dry shirt by the door before moving toward the steps leading down to the cellar door, clicking the dial by the entrance around until it reached the correct setting – like a more complicated version of the one on his case – threw a piece of meat in and then stepped aside to let the Zouwu rush past. Closing the door, Newt repeated the process with Starktail and headed back up the steps to the house proper; it was cold, he fancied a shower and a hot meal before settling down with his sketchpad for the evening. Maybe do a bit more work on the new case he was working on, fixing and recrafting the leather and charms that held together and protected it, that maintained the environments within. For, as much as he loved the place he was in, he wasn't fool enough to think that anything in his life was permanent.

It was about an hour later, when he was halfway through saving and serving the singed remnants of some smoked trout and green beans in the kitchen when the wards chimed a warning through the house. Diligent as ever by dint of long experience, he palmed his wand from where it had been stuck carelessly into his belt loop, slipped his shirt back over his shoulders and padded silently across the wooden floor on bare feet. He peeked out of the green-tinted pane of glass and saw an aura that though he had only seen once on his last visit to the city to give his statement for Percival, President Picquery and some ministerial witnesses, he recognised instantly. He opened the door with a wave of his wand and a weary grin to the shades of sangria sunset that hazed around clear green eyes. "What can I do for you, Mr Harkaway?"

"Oh, you know, just passing through," the Texan replied, running a ruffling hand through dirty blonde hair and handing Newt an acid-green bottle which he took with some surprise before he stepped aside, tapping on a set of subtle runes carved into the doorframe to let Harkaway inside. Glancing down at the bottle as he shut the door behind him, he frowned as he recognised the recognizable label of Basilisk Gin – the same brand he knew the man to prefer. "Thought I'd get you a little housewarming gift."

"One that you happen to have a penchant for?"

"As does old Graves'y, I might add," the Auror grinned unrepentantly as he looked around the room, taking in the open bright space, which was warmly lit and the wide, comfortable sofas and quince armchairs, the roaring hearth and the steaming plate of food on the side. He slid off his coat and smart if rumpled jacket and slung them carelessly over the sofa, standing there in shirtsleeves and tie that was already loosened about his neck. "Hope I'm not intruding."

"Not at all," Newt murmured, moving to put the bottle on the kitchen counter, fetching a glass for Harkaway, pausing and then getting one for himself as well. The American sprawled himself against the sofa arm where his coat lay and took a long sip, smacking his lips appreciatively at the burning bite of the drink. Newt took a polite sip of his own, eyes watering but throat tingling pleasantly and he coughed slightly before venturing, "So what brings you here?"

"Graves' wellbeing and sanity, what else?" Harkaway's smile did not reach his eyes, which were worried, even frustrated. The aura glowed no brighter and Newt guessed that this was simply a friend and colleague's concern. And though Newt wasn't as hesitant to help or see Percival as he was when he and Harkaway had first met, he wasn't quite sure exactly what the Auror wanted him to do this time around.

"He hasn't been coping...well, I take it?" Newt hedged and the Texan barked a laugh.

"He hasn't been coping with it at all. Whatever it is," Harkaway corrected and Newt winced but the Auror didn't press on the details, just waved his drink hand toward Newt pointedly with a stern gaze and only barely smiling lips. "He's doing his usual fancy-pants holier-than-thou bullshit ritual of acting like he's too high and mighty to have problems, much less talk about them. I know he probably ain't like that with you but that's what he's like with the rest of us mere mortals," he snorted and took another drink, "He don't say it neither but I can tell just from how he looks at you that he thinks the sun shines outta every part ya got."

Newt flushed, ducking his head but meeting the other's clear green eyes and sangria haze that pulsed with strands of sunshine yellow. Oddly apt for the phrasing used, he supposed. "I've been getting the feeling he's been avoiding me as much as he has talking about his problems."

"You can say that again."

Newt took another drink, grimaced and set it aside only half-finished. It was dreadfully strong stuff and he didn't want to tempt fate by becoming intoxicated in the fluctuating state he was in, especially around someone he didn't know all too well. "What made you come here in person though? You could've said this in your letter, couldn't you?" Harkaway had indeed written to him the week before, having apparently been given his address by Percival, though Newt wasn't entirely sure if the information had been given readily.

"Well yeah, but it would've denied us both a decent chance to get soused, eh?" he asked, tapping his mostly empty drink against Newt's half-full one and then downing his own. He didn't seem drunk but the gleam in his eyes gave Newt the impression that he was intending to change that state.

"I don't really drink, Mr Harkaway."

"Jared, please, it's painful enough with all the titles and 'yes sirs', 'of course Auror Harkaway' when I'm on the job without getting that from you too," he nudged Newt's shoulder playfully and the Brit jolted a bit in surprise, "Besides, I thought you were the Ministry-spurning, dark wizard defeating, animal rights activist who's only just come down off the international wanted list. You really gonna go all formal on me after all that?"

"I suppose not, I…uh, Jared," Newt chuckled in his awkwardness, taking another sip, finding it oddly amusing to hear himself summarised in such a fashion.

"Nice place you got here, guessing it was sorted with all that money from your book?"

Newt shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, realising that he should probably check his account at Gringotts sometime soon to check on the state of his funds. "No, it was a…present from a friend, I suppose."

Harkaway's brows arched dubiously, "Damn generous friend."

Newt chuckled, taking another draught of his drink, "More like a guilty one, actually, but I can't say I didn't appreciate the gesture, nonetheless."

"You seem to have a way about you," he replied, loosening his shirt's top button, pulling his tie out a bit and Newt looked at him askance.

"A way?" he queried with a nervous laugh and Harkaway regarded him warmly.

"You make folks react strong no matter which way it is. The smart ones love ya and the thick ones hate."

Newt exhaled a little laugh, cheeks pink, "Um…thanks?"

"Just making an observation. Like, creatures, they got more sense than most and they know to trust ya, they get loyal real quick. Smart folk are the same, them who ain't too set in their ways to know sumin' special when they see it," he tilted his head and Newt saw a pensive aspect flicker into his eyes and aura, a strain of dusky pink becoming more prevalent within the sangria. "You just gotta see it right back. See what you do and the effect you have on others. You don't seem too clued in on how knotted you can get a guy. Whether you reckon what they see is right or not, you gotta get a handle on the fact it ain't gonna change even if you do."

Newt was feeling decidedly flushed now, eyes flickering between the aura shining around the other man's drink hand and his own bare toes, not sure why but feeling as if the Auror was making more sense than a man with no specific knowledge of his situation should have. It didn't feel like Harkaway knew anything he shouldn't but he seemed to speak from the perspective of someone with the benefit of objectivity and experience of vaguely similar circumstances.

He was distracted, however, when the wards chimed again along with several sharp, impatient knocks on the door. Newt put his drink down, feeling the warmth from the strong alcoholic drink colouring his cheeks along with the effects of Harkaway's teasing behaviour. He saw the amber aura shining strongly through the door glass, brighter than the mahogany and fluctuating as Newt opened the door to reveal a peeved looking Percival. Newt was surprised but let him in as he had Harkaway, tapping the runes and letting his partner sweep past him in a flash of dark coat and flared white collar before he froze and looked back at him. The older man's dark eyes zeroed in on Newt's barely dressed state and the Magizoologist flushed, waving a hand so swiftly at his rumpled, unbuttoned shirt and rolled up trousers that a few buttons pinged off dramatically, rolling away past his sight. He hadn't been aware of or even bothered by his state of dress until then and he flushed further in the realisation that he had been greeted Harkaway and chatted with him like that.

Newt was about to explain his shambolic attire but was denied the chance and instead watched on bemusedly as Percival beelined toward Harkaway. His pace wasn't swift, more purposeful but still on a clear route to intimidate even as Harkaway grinned at him jovially, reaching into the cupboard for another glass as if he owned the place and waving it toward Percival.

"Drink, Graves'y?"

"You never gave me the impression that I was giving you Newt's address for you to be making unsolicited social calls."

"Oh come on now, boss, what've you got against a bit of socialising as long as you got an extra pair of eyes on the little dragon?" Percival very nearly sputtered and Harkaway pressed a drink into his hand, likely before his superior could use it to hex him although Newt wasn't entirely sure handing him a potential glass projectile was much of a better prospect. "You can't say he doesn't merit watching and we all know it ain't the first time I'd be doing it on your behalf."

"I never asked-" Percival began before Harkaway cut him off with a wave of his hand,

"Nah, nah, nah, you didn't this time 'round but now you're here so I can kindly take my leave now, can't I?" he made a show of looking out the window then at his pocket-watch, "Well, well now, it's getting rather late, I figure that anyone staying much longer'd be sensible to stay the night, now wouldn't they?"

The look that Percival gave the man could've blistered stone as he called Harkaway's coat from where it lay upon the sofa and sent it hurtling at its owner who caught it shortly before the material could ensconce (and, if Percival's expression was any gauge, smother) him. "We'll talk about this tomorrow you useless, conniving, malingering git."

Harkaway grinned, nodding to his boss before patting Newt on the shoulder on his way past to go out the door. "Shouldn't expect you too early, should I?"

Newt was quick to shove the Auror out of the door before Percival could inflict any damage, sensing by the blistering heat of copper that was radiating off him that he was not in any mood to be tempered. He heard muffled laughter from the other side of the door before footsteps receded down the path and there was a crack of apparation. Newt paused for a few seconds, breathing in steadily before he turned to face Percival, seeing the man standing by the counter, expression and posture almost awkward and tension still rolling in the roiling colour of his aura.

"I swear that man is more invested in our relationship than you are at this point," Newt joked flatly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as the silence stretched on too long. He winced as Percival looked up sharply and Newt fixed his eyes upon his toes again before moving forward and downing nearly half of the drink that Harkaway had poured Percival. There was a brief moment when their fingertips touched as he took the glass and he couldn't help his lips twitching momentarily upward at the blending of their auras, even just for a second. The mahogany and forest green looked natural together whilst the copper, gold and barest traces of silver created an entrancing highlight to edge the tones, like fine embroidery. He looked back up to Percival's eyes and tried to convey his apology with his own. "Sorry, I…didn't mean it like that."

"I know you didn't."

"What brought you here in such a huff?"

"Damn idiot made sure to stop by my office before leaving for the evening, waved that bottle in my face and told me he was going to pay you a visit," Percival sighed theatrically as he took the glass back off Newt, eying its half-full state critically before necking the rest of it and setting it down on the counter without so much as a wince. "I thought I'd try to save you from being subjected to an evening of that," he nodded his head toward the door by which his colleague had left with an irritated look, his lip curling, and Newt snorted in amusement.

"Much appreciated though perhaps not entirely necessary," he said, stepping around Percival and toward the sofa, settling down on the cushions, curling his legs up to the side, not enough to prevent Percival joining him but enough to put a little space between them. He didn't want the distraction of the temptation for physical intimacy unless it was what Percival wanted; he knew how distracted both of them could get with things like that and needed to maintain a semi-clear head with which to sort out the lingering tensions between them.

The Auror sighed, shucking off his coat and scarf and flopping down wearily onto the gap Newt had left but surprising the Magizoologist by grabbing his bare ankle and manoeuvring his feet to lie on the Auror's lap. If he was bothered by Newt's cold, grubby feet on his neat pinstriped suit trousers he didn't show it as he spoke, both pairs of eyes fixed on Newt's feet this time. "Perhaps not, Harkaway is a good man. Just far too conniving and single-minded to be involved in a situation like…this."

"I'd reckon you're right but he did bring up a point or two that I think might be relevant here."

"Oh, and what would those be?"

"That I should be more…conscientious of the 'effect' I have on people and whether I like it or not, or even if I intend it, that I need to get to grips with it and act accordingly," he looked up to meet Percival's eyes but for once it was the Auror who was reluctant to make the contact and he felt the sting of it keenly, the aura visible on his foot spiking slightly sour with silver.

"Whether you blame me or not…you-…you've been hurt well past the line of any duty you would have as an Auror to deal with Grindelwald. It got personal because of your connection to me and because I not only let you but wanted you to be with me – in my life – in a life that ruined yours," the green and copper flared brighter, "You've acted for so long as if you don't blame me for any of what I dragged you into and then, when you had a chance to get some justice for yourself I told you not to. It was selfish of me to ask that of you for my sake alone, for the guilt that I would feel. It wasn't fair and…I'm sorry that I placed his life above the retribution you need to get something even close to closure."

He swallowed, his fingers and toes curling, the latter movement drawing Percival's eyes up to his face, expression unreadable as Newt went on firmly, with resolve, "He did more…lasting damage to you than he did me because he thought it would hurt me, that it would convince me to do what I should have done and left you out of all this. He did harm that I can't undo even with his magic to help me and it's a hurt that'll never stop. You're always gonna be reminded of him and me at every full moon and I had no right to put you in a position like that even if you think you wanted everything that came along with whatever you see in me."

"Newt…you can't stop how people feel about you. It's up to them – us - how they deal with their feelings…or don't," he looked strained as his thumb stroked over the arch of Newt's foot. "Grindelwald…he told me when you were out after he got his hands on you-…he told me that it was only your interest in me that had 'kept me in the story', in his damn narrative and that he would've just killed me long ago had you not wanted me around." His expression hardened from sickened contemplation into frustrated determination, "But don't think for one damn second that he would've ever just let me go along my merry way had you not been in the picture. He would've made whatever death he had cooked up for me as unpleasant and drawn out as he could. You know what he's like. You know he's not the sort of person to let anyone get off easy." He barked a bitter laugh, "Hell, Newt, you saved me even before we met by revealing him to the dumbass MACUSA lot who were meant to be the best of the best and then when you got me out of those tunnels…Grindelwald would've just left me to rot there. They probably never would've found me if it weren't for you."

His brows furrowed further, "But we aren't talking about any damn debts or sense or owing each other anything cause that's not what this is all about. Nobody should be keeping score, this isn't a game, this is just me loving you and you me. It's about wanting to be together without that sick bastard sticking himself right in the middle of it," he grimaced, "I'll admit it. I wish I'd cut the fucker's cock off and torn his beating heart out with my bare hands – seems only fair after all – but that isn't what happened. He's locked up again and that'll do as long as it stays that way," Percival looked Newt dead in the eyes as he said: "But I swear that if he so much as sets a single toe, hell, even a single thought out of that cell, I will kill him."

Newt nodded, "And I promise that I won't even try to convince you otherwise."

"You sure about that?" Percival asked, a brow raised but a slightly satisfied smirk pulling the very corner on one side of his mouth, the scar stretching underneath the glamour in a way that didn't look quite right. Newt supposed it was a good thing that Percival didn't smile much at work. He banished the slight bitter amusement he drew from the thought before it had even formed and nodded solemnly.

"As sure as I can be," he paused, curling his feet closer to himself and burying them under Percival's legs as the spot was warm and less likely to continue sullying the man's trousers. "Is there anything else you want to talk about? I reckon now might be a good time. Get it all out in the open, so to speak."

"Why? You planning on going somewhere?" Percival asked, "Your deluded bastard of a friend seems to have thought of damn near everything around here. Can't see why you'd want to leave."

Newt grinned then, remembering something that he had discovered on his second day of exploring the underground enclosures and quickly stood, holding out a hand to Percival who eyed him bemusedly before taking it and levering himself up with a groan. The Auror's arm slipped around his waist as Newt led him forward, past the fireplace and to a set of steps directly to the left, descending with quick steps and clicking the dial on the wall that matched the one outside until it reached a black setting with a large white circle emblazoned upon it.

"Dumbledore left a few enclosures empty for me to adapt as I wished or needed if I got anyone new."

"Please don't tell me you've found something so dangerous that even you have separated it out this much?" Percival asked warily as they stepped out into a large, moonlit glade that lay aside from all the other enclosures, separated by charms and a massive mountain range, a warm enough climate that the grass under Newt's bare feet was not uncomfortable and a light enough breeze to keep it a relaxed temperature.

"Not exactly," Newt replied and slipped from his companion's hold, stepping toward two stone pillars set deep into the ground and holding up the long, empty chains that rested upon the grass there.

Percival frowned for a moment before comprehension dawned and his brows shot up, "This is for me?"

"They're enchanted with more accommodating charms than the ones in your family's old home," Newt explained, feeling eager to demonstrate the features of the enclosure so it didn't seem as possessive or strange as it might've been. "They expand and contract as you change forms so there won't be any pain from that at least, and they also leach a bit of a sleeping draught into your system if you get…too…um, irritable. Not enough to put you down, just to relax you a bit. Sleepy like," he continued, going into a bit of a frenzy as he gestured to the large glade, the small spring and the large spread of leaves and soft grass, Percival watching him in stunned amusement, "If no one else is here there's plenty of room to run so you might actually feel better when you change back, it'll take up some of the excess energy you usually get when you turn. And I reckon there's probably enough wildlife so that you might be able to satiate your need for raw meat on a hunt. It'll help with the mood swings and exhaustion and-"

He was broken off as Percival caught him by the wrist where he had been gesturing and swung him into a kiss, an arm wrapping softly around his waist again and Newt smiled into the other's mouth. He pulled back and giggled as Percival nuzzled his nose into Newt's copper curls just over his ear, the touch tickling and the two shades of copper blending and blazing brightly. Newt wondered, then, if the copper in Percival's aura was in some way there because of him but the thought soon slipped from his mind as he raised tainted-green eyes to meet the werewolf's deep ones, one long finger coaxing Newt's chin up to look at him.

"I appreciate this; I wasn't sure if there was any room in all this for me," he smiled, "Besides, it'll be less of a pain in the ass to travel here once a month than going all the way home." He tilted his head and snorted slightly, "And less chance of running into Ma by accident. Unless, of course, you've got some damn enclosure built for her too."

Newt laughed aloud, ducking his head from the grip, "Not just yet, no."

"Bloody relief that is. She's been staying in my apartment for the last fortnight no matter how much I ask her to leave. Between her and Harkaway it's been a bit of a nightmare getting any time to come up here outside of the cases and getting you lot off the watchlist," he heaved a weary sigh, "Plus, I've heard news from your brother. Someone made an attempt on his life whilst his decoy self was in St Mungo's. He managed to apprehend them without blowing his cover but he sent me a missive asking me to let you know he's gone to Tina and Edwin. They're safe for now it seems, but there's still a lot of corruption in the British Ministry according to what he's found. Your old pal Leta is apparently in deep with her engagement to the new deputy minister so don't go getting in contact with her as Theseus suspects Fawley is part of it all. He warned us both to keep an eye on things, to be careful but not to get involved as it'll just get in his way, apparently."

Newt nodded slowly, "As much as I reckon he needs the help more than his stubborn pride will let him admit, I think that I've had enough of getting involved with Ministry business and conflict for a while. And you've got plenty on your plate besides."

"My thoughts exactly, just thought I'd let you know. Theseus thought that he'd have the best luck getting in contact with you via me after you went AWOL."

"I just hope that Tina can knock a bit of sense into him. He needs to stick around for his family's sake. He of all people should know that having a decent dad in the picture can make all the difference," he stared off past Percival's shoulder into the trees, a knot squirming in his stomach as he thought of the fates of his family, hoping that Tina and Theseus would be able to do a better job of raising Edwin than the job that his own father had done in that department. Not that he liked to think ill of the dead, but he could never claim - even posthumously – that his dad had been loving or kind, something that had only increased Theseus' protectiveness of Newt as a result.

"I'm sure they'll be fine, Newt. As much as your brother is a pompous, controlling ass, I think he might be able to make a semi-decent father. From what you've told me, he had a fair hand in looking after you when you were younger and you turned out just fine, if almost as clueless as he can be sometimes. Not to mention difficult," Newt shoved at him playfully and headed back toward the entrance to the house, Percival following beside him with an arm still slung firmly about his waist, holding close as they kept in step. They made an odd pair between Newt's lanky, ambling gait and Percival's purposeful, steady stride. "That kid is gonna be as stubborn, bright and cocky as they come is my bet. I'm sure he's gonna be just fine."

"Probably," Newt agreed before glancing at his partner hesitantly, "I don't suppose that you'd fancy visiting them with me? Dumbledore gave me their address and it isn't too far from here, there's even a Floo-connection from my fireplace."

Percival smiled, "Of course, it's been a while since I've seen either of them and the last time I saw the kid he was still in Tina," he chuckled. "I never got to thank them for letting me stay with them when I was such a damn mess. I reckon we should bring 'em something nice. Any ideas for your brother?" he snorted, "Aside from a good kick up the ass?"

"He likes Cauldron Cakes, used to trade them off me and only give me Fire-Imps in return. Had quite a bit of fun with them actually and he soon regretted doing it," Newt chuckled, bouncing up the last step into the house before adding, "He fancies the Brandy-soaked ones now."

"I'll get some tomorrow and we can visit in the afternoon as I think I've earned a bit of time off," Percival suggested and Newt nodded readily, the plans feeling surprisingly domestic after everything but still pleasant. He had already been working on something quite special for Edwin to have and resolved to fix it in the morning before they visited.

They ended up back in Newt's kitchen, the gramophone playing quietly in the background as he worked to scoop out a second serving of his meal for them to share. The couple sat at the scrubbed kitchen table under the light of the rafter-hung lanterns that dotted the room, settled into a warm glow that exacerbated the one lying upon Percival. Newt found himself staring at the other man, entranced by the way the sparks and shifts of colour hovered around him with every movement and thought, it was distracting and he couldn't help but be intrigued. Eventually, as Percival was finishing the last bite of green beans, the Auror exhaled and looked up, "I'm guessing that it's not only my dashing good looks that's got your attention at the moment is it?"

"Well that too, I suppose," Newt admitted

"Still seeing these…auras then?"

Newt nodded, "I don't know how Grindelwald could stand it…or even if he did…maybe he didn't, maybe it's just me."

"No use of the 'G' word whilst I'm holding sharp objects, if you please," Percival gritted out, grip tightening on both his knife and fork and Newt chuckled a little but nodded his agreement and altered the course of conversation just enough.

"Anyway, yes, it can be quite distracting but as I said, it helps to be sure of things. I don't think an aura can be faked like a face or voice – they're personal, like someone's magic and character wrapped into each other. It's how I knew I could let Harkaway in safely."

"I don't know if safely is the right word exactly…" Percival half-grumbled and Newt hid his smile by ducking his head as he collected the plates, dumping them into the sink and flicking his wand to set them washing themselves.

"He's not being serious with any of his comments, I don't think, he's just messing around with you because he's worried for his friend," Newt said as he sprawled out on the sofa again.

"Oh, is that what he told you?" Percival asked dubiously, scooting the Magizoologist's lanky legs out of the way as he settled in close to Newt, slinging an arm over the back of the sofa and shucking his tie and top button.

"Well the being worried for you part, yes, I'm sure that none of the compliments he made were meant as anything past him just being friendly, strikes me as the sort."

"What do you mean by compliments, exactly?" Percival asked abruptly and Newt shook his head disparagingly.

"Oh, stop that now. He's just trying to get a rise out of you, Percival," Newt paused, eying the older man curiously before he awkwardly phrased something he'd wondered at for a while, "Did you and him ever…um…er-…-exchange compliments?"

Percival snorted but flushed slightly all the same, "If that's your way of asking if we ever hooked up the answer is yes but it wasn't a particularly successful attempt."

Newt's eyes widened, "What happened?"

Percival shifted a little awkwardly in his seat but his voice was brash as ever, "Both got blind drunk at the end of a three-week-long stake-out. We'd been holed up together in a backend bar in an attempt to apprehend the gang of counterfeiters we'd been weeding out. It wasn't long after I got my full Auror status, about eighteen years ago now," he sighed, "Anyway, we got to celebrating and, well, you've seen what he's like when he's sober – imagine that amplified by youth, drink and nearly a month without sex. We started getting down and dirty, right in the back room of the bar and then we hit a rather major snag."

"Which was?" Newt asked, blushing furiously but with a curious, embarrassed smile alighting his lips, nonetheless.

"Neither of us was a bottom."

"What do you-…oh," Newt began and broke off as the implication occurred to him and his blush intensified. "I ah…I suppose that would become a problem."

"We ended up jerking each other off and passing out in a trouserless heap until the barman came back there and threw a sour barrel of ale over us. I'm very glad that as much as Harkaway likes to hold a lot of things over me, that wasn't one of them," Percival laughed heartily before his expression sobered a little, "Morgana's ass, I feel like I've just told a dirty story to a Catholic schoolboy," he rubbed a hand wearily, disparagingly over his face and Newt snorted.

"It's nothing I haven't heard before. You don't have to treat me like I'm incapable of hearing about your past with other people without somehow being corrupted," he rolled tainted-green eyes before adding, "Besides, I'm sure you were just dreadfully seduced by the dastardly Harkaway's exceptional charms. He certainly seems to know how to stir up your cauldron after all."

"He's not the only one," Percival commented, running his draped arm's hand through Newt's hair, ruffling it until it was even more of a copper tangle than usual.

"I never!" the younger man laughed and jolted forward, batting at him and falling into fits of giggles as the Auror pulled him across his lap and wrapped his arms tight around him. He wriggled in the grip until Percival let out a barely stifled moan and Newt froze as he realised that his ass was rubbing directly against the Director's crotch from the position that he'd found himself in. He attempted to roll into a less damning position and felt his pulse strum faster in his veins when Percival's hand clamped down on his side and hip, the other drifting up to trace Newt's plump, pink, slightly parted lips. He was about to speak, though what to say, he wasn't sure, when Percival gripped both his hips and flipped him so that he was now belly side down on the Auror's lap. His face was pressed into the armrest of the sofa and his arms were pinned between him and the pinstriped legs of the Auror he lay astride, he could have moved them if he wanted to but his hammering heart, thrumming pulse and rousing cock were telling him to stay just where he was. He was suddenly very aware of how Percival's large warm hand was resting on his thigh, just below the curve of his arse, stroking so lightly over the raised flesh…just in the perfect position to- smack!

Newt jolted in shock, his growing interest rubbing teasingly against Percival's thigh and he gasped aloud, panting slightly as his head twisted back to see the older man staring down at the place his open palm had just struck with something near reverence, a slight smile curling the edges of his lips. Mahogany glowed everywhere, least brightly but most intensely in his eyes as he met Newt's, those eyes asking a silent question and Newt didn't hesitate for more than a second before he nodded his consent. The hand struck again thrice more in rapid succession and Newt barely stifled a moan of his own, burying his face in the sofa cushions as Percival's other hand dug underneath him to fumble at his trouser fastenings and belt. Eager to assist, Newt raised his hips, pushing up with his forearms and kicking himself up closer and higher with his feet until he was arched up off his partner, his arse pressing up into the touch that rested there. Percival huffed a breath of stunned amusement and set about tugging away Newt's trousers mere inches at a time, his throaty chuckle deepening as Newt began to kick his legs in an attempt to free them quicker.

It was then that Newt heard a number of indignant chirrups coming from alarmingly close by and his head jerked up, looking around frantically before laughing as he realised where the sound was coming from.

"What is it?"

Newt managed to extricate his arm from underneath him and reached into the fold of his collar and shirt pocket to coax out a trio of confused and irritable Bowtruckles. "S-sorry! Forgot they were in there."

"Please tell me that's the only errant creatures on your person that you're only just now remembering."

Newt was quick to speak even as he set the Bowtruckles – Pickett included – onto the nearest potted tree and though it wasn't their usual preference of wood, they seemed happier there than being disturbed by the two canoodling humans. "Well, they were in my hair earlier but then they must've moved when I got dressed and-"

"Newt?" Percival said calmly and Newt sat back on his haunches from where he'd leant to re-home the creatures, watching expectantly as the Auror rose to stand before him, the bulge in his pinstriped suit trousers tantalisingly level with his face and Newt had to force his eyes up as he replied.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Newt opened his mouth to admonish him playfully but was halted as Percival kissed him again, this time firmly and demanding, taking him by the dip of his waist and drawing him up to his knees to be on a better level. Newt took the cue when Percival tugged him further forward and his arms ensconced the Auror's shoulders, almost squeaking in shock as he was lifted off the sofa and his legs swiftly wrapped themselves around Percival's waist. Both were sent into a round of giggles, however as the older man staggered a little bit and the kiss broke off long enough for him to gasp, "Not that I'm complaining, but you're not such a bloody waif anymore. Finally taking care of yourself, eh?"

Newt nodded but turned the motion into an opportunity to suckle at the other man's neck, sliding himself down till bare feet met the wood floor and he used his hold on broad shoulders to pull Percival in the direction of the stairs. He gave up quickly though and apparated them both to the top, shoving the door open with one hip and leading Percival across the room to the double four-poster bed. He had been somewhat amused though nostalgia-laden when he had discovered the main bedroom of the place to be done up somewhat like an extravagant, enlarged version of his Hufflepuff dorm décor. Black and yellow bedding, badgers carved into the bedframe and large bay window complete with a yellow-black chequered cushion for him to look out upon the lake view from. Though the Hufflepuff common room had not had such a view, it had had magically enhanced rays of sunlight that streamed through despite the area's underground location.

The cool, stark starlight from the window and the warmer light from the candles dotted around the room shone upon Percival's face and his copper aura burned brighter than ever, enflamed and warm like a fire before him. They paused for a moment, both breathing heavily as Percival spoke again, "We can stop you know. Any time you like. You're more powerful than me right now. If you don't like something I'm doing or get...lost, then don't be afraid to stop me."

Newt nodded mutely, running a hand over the delightfully spiky shaved sides of Percival's hair, a mere blink of his eyes and curl of his fingers stripping them both as the Auror's back met the bedpost with a thump that had them both gasping. As Percival's lips devoured their way along his throat and collarbone, Newt's eyes feasted in turn on the view given to him by the nearby full-length mirror. He could see them both - all exposed skin and tangled limbs, auras incandescent, taking in the smooth spaces where there had once been angry scars except for the now unglamoured werewolf injuries that stood proud and ribbed where they lay on a muscled physique. Looked at his own smooth skin, only the heart scar, like a tiny pink star remaining, even the white lines of the blood pact faded to nothing by the new, stronger magic. With the singular exception of a slight white swirl along the edge of one eye, barely noticeable but gouged just that fraction deeper, usually hidden by his messy hair.

Percival was right, he had filled out a little over the fortnight he'd been here, regular food and exercise and long spans in the sun returning his form to something close to what it had been shortly before they met. No longer cadaverous, scarred, scared and ghostly pale. Well, not quite as much anyway.

His attention was drawn back to his lover as Percival's hand began to heatedly knead his ass, a fingertip running along the edge of his hole and massaging in tight little circles that had Newt's eyes flickering shut. So much gentler than he deserved...He banished the whispered thought quickly and focussed upon the heated mahogany glow that permeated his eyelids. You are safe. No matter what happens or how heated this gets, how intense... it's just me and Percival.

The entwined men migrated to the bed, Newt with his face half-buried into the pillows, gasping as Percival's finger pressed and explored deeper, familiar spikes of light piercing behind his eyelids and hot shudders flushing through him. Lips pressed softly to the back of his neck, his shivers intensifying as he squirmed in pleasure, hands going back, seeking blindly to return the pleasure Percival was giving him but feeling a thrill go through him when the Auror's capable hands caught one wrist and twisted it up his back. He gasped as his shoulder ached in protest, his free hand scrambling at the sheets and managing to find the back of Percival's knee, fingers skating over the soft skin until the older man jerked and huffed a laugh. Newt's panting pink lips curved into a smile as he realised that the man's knees were ticklish and whilst he stowed the information for future reference, he simply let himself be pinned, revelling in the mahogany haze and the copper firing it. It felt like all the danger, warmth and contradictory reassurance of a roaring hearth.

"Newt, I'm going to turn you over now, I want to see your beautiful face and those big green eyes of yours looking up at me as I fuck you," Percival's voice was peppered honey in his ear, the werewolf's teeth tugging dangerously on the very shell of his ear as he spoke, "But I want you to stay still for me. Do you think you can do that?"

He breathed out the scent of spiced gin onto Newt's cheek and the Magizoologist grinned into the pillow before turning his face into Percival's, catching his lip and biting down hard enough to draw a drop of blood.

"Now that wasn't very nice now was it, sweetheart?" Percival growled low in his ear, his voice slipping back into that old, half-forgotten accent in the same dangerous way it had back at Graves manor during his near-transformation. He looked oddly delighted, however, as he roughly flipped Newt over, gripping his wrists and pinning them on either side as his erect length teased and rubbed along the sensitive flesh of Newt's perineum. His eyes flickered to half-mast and it was only the press of a warm strip of material against his lips that had them fluttering open again; Percival was looking down at him with a request for permission that Newt replied to by opening his lips and allowing the fabric of Percival's gold dotted grey tie in between them. The Magizoologist lifted his head a little to allow Percival to tie it behind his head, the gag tight against the corners of his mouth but soft enough that he didn't feel like he was trapped. He wasn't helpless here, it was just a fantasy – a bloody brilliant one – but still, just a game that succeeded in raising his heartrate and sending thrills of anticipation through him straight to his fattening cock. The younger man moaned in his gag, thrusting up to try to catch the feeling of Percival's length teasing him again only to be cruelly denied by wicked eyes and sinfully smiling lips. The air around them was copper fire, setting the forest of his own aura alight and threading through with rays of golden sunlight.

It could've been too much; if it had been anyone else, after all that happened, but it wasn't and despite everything. Despite it all. Grindelwald had been the one to give Newt a way to be sure of who he was with and what he wanted. He wanted Percival, all the rough edges and hard fucking, the lewd and dangerous sides that had been restrained and deprived by both of their caution and fear until now. Percival saw it too, his eyes full and sure, blazing and centred in what he saw in Newt.

It wasn't the roughness that had bothered Newt, it was just him. Grindelwald's vile nature and cruel intentions seeping into everything he did to Newt or for him even if it seemed outwardly affectionate. The reason he had desired it, even a little – more than he wanted to admit - was because Grindelwald had been the one to make him realise that he liked being held down, tied up, silenced and fucked. It was awful, horrifying at first because he had thought it was Gellert that he wanted but it was…being...taken. He wanted the carnality and passion, the lust and borderline cruelty that eluded most or was repressed because Newt was seen as fragile and innocent. Percival clearly understood now, the black curtain cords slithering across the floor up to catch Newt's wrists were enough to tell the Magizoologist that. They caught him, pulled each wrist out to either side of the bed and bound themselves somewhere under the bed, likely to the bed-feet, tugging his arms out taut with the Auror still astride him, eyes deep and unfathomable. Those depths drank him in and Newt smiled, just a little encouraging twitch of his lips that prompted a low, long sigh before Percival lined himself up with Newt's entrance, pushing just the tip in, groaning slightly before sliding in halfway. Newt tugged unthinkingly on the cords circling his wrists, relishing the way they just didn't give. They weren't cold steel or silver. No wide metal bands or rough, coarse rope. Soft, strong and slightly ribbed against the soft flesh of his inner wrists that pulled tighter as Newt writhed, trying to encourage Percival to enter him properly, to hit that spot that his fingers had only teasingly brushed before.

It felt like an age before Percival gripped him tightly by the hips and fulfilled his wish, thrusting all the way in and drawing a loud gasp from the pinned man, a copper-fire constellation dancing behind his eyes. His legs wrapped around Percival's ass, drawing him in deeper until Newt could feel nothing else, the Auror laughing and leaning forward to kiss him gently, sweetly for just a moment of reprieve and adjustment before he began a quick, pounding pace.

"Perc-mphh…y's-…m're-...ungh-" Newt's gasping, muffled, mostly unintelligible moans seemed to do the trick of spurring the werewolf on and he drew Newt's hips from the bed, holding his lower half aloft as he hammered into him. Newt couldn't control the noises slipping from his lips nor the way his magic hummed around them, the ghosts of touches he wanted to perform on Percival created by his will, the sensations of fingers stroking and tugging in tandem with Newt's inability to perform them physically. It was a perfect blend of the thrill of being dominated whilst being able to bring pleasure to the one bringing so much to him. Percival's back arched and his hips snapped forward as the approximation of Newt's fingers carded along the back of his neck, curling invisible fingers into mussed hair.

When Percival's eyes opened again to pierce down at Newt his pupils were blown wide, almost obscuring the ring of colour and his lips drew back in a near snarl as he released Newt's hip on one side, letting him drop back to the bed as he continued to thrust. Sweat was glistening over every plane of his sharp features and muscular chest, running in entrancing rivulets down his scarred face, his scratched neck and across the gashes ending just above his abdominals. One hand encircled Newt's cock, the thumb of the grasping hand rubbing tenderly over his balls while the rest went about fingering his length. The Auror's mouth descended to lick just barely on the very tip which was all he could reach and Newt screamed freely into the tie jamming his mouth, hands utterly white-knuckled as he clenched them around the cords binding him still. He was sensitive, nearly too much so as Percival continued to suckle and squeeze, pressure building in Newt's gut and he barely managed to groan out something that could be construed as a warning.

Percival – clearly more experienced in that department than Newt – eased off the suction, thrusting in harder and at an angle just enough adjusted so that when Newt looked down, he saw the very tip of Percival's cock bulging out his stomach just that little bit. It was enough to have him coming on the spot and as he felt him so deep

Percival's mouth drew back and pumped Newt's cock, once, twice, three times more before he released, the gold blazing up to meet the copper as Percival finished within him, the bulge of the length a visual reminder of just how far inside of him Percy really was. He didn't withdraw but his legs shuttered out a bit, the Auror half-slumping onto him, not enough to crush but more firmly rest, the hot, sweaty, hairy man claiming him now in a similar way to how his wolf half had, only in a distinctly dirtier manner this time around. Fingers rubbed over Newt's wrists, onto his palms too and then up to his fingers, slowly, carefully working feeling and colour back into the pale, tingling appendages that Newt had long since begun to ignore. The tie was pulled from his mouth and he gasped, working his lips, feeling slightly sore marks stretch around the corners and into his cheeks before his face was caught by warm hands and Percival's scarred lips pressed to his own.

"Fucking hell, Newton a-thousand-middle-names Scamander, I swear you're not leaving this bed ever again."

Newt grinned stupidly, a mere rotation of his wrists releasing them so that he could grab Percival's face with both hands and pull him onto his side so that the older man was pressed up against him, still sheathed but in a more comfortable position, both resting with their sweaty foreheads touching, chests heaving and every part moulded to one another. They fit well despite the differences in height and physiques. And the differences that lay deeper than that too.

"Thank you…for this…" Newt smiled, flexing himself back slightly further into Percival and the man in turn into him. "For this and for everything."

"My pleasure," he half-groaned, drawing back a bit so that he wasn't quite so deeply lodged within Newt but still not withdrawing despite his softening state, his cock merely warming inside Newt and both feeling content to let it.

The Auror let out a groan a few moments later, shifting and Newt's eyes drifted back open, drunk on the whiskey colour of the aura he was steeped in, "What is it?"

"I'll be damned if Harkaway wasn't right about me being late in tomorrow."

Newt snorted, letting his eyes waft shut again, "Sod him. Sod them all. I'm sure they can make it without you for one whole day, can't they?" he shifted a bit closer into Percival's shoulder, nosing into the citrus-whiskey-pine scent before he grumbled, "You did just play a big part in clearing three major cases for them andyou gave a solid beating to the world's most dangerous dark wizard, after all," he pressed a kiss to Percival's jaw, "I think you deserve a day or two of very, very selfish sex and they can get along without you."

"I'll put that in the memo, shall I? I'm sure Picquery will react brilliantly to that."

"On second thought, maybe not, I don't fancy pitting you against her with the next full moon coming up in a few weeks."

"Point," Percival mumbled and Newt could tell from his tone that he was on the verge of falling asleep. Newt gently extricated himself from the Auror and dragged the covers over both of them, gasping slightly as he suddenly felt wet and empty. He let a wave of rejuvenating magic wash over both of them and Percival's eyelids barely flickered but he sighed in his near-sleep, sweat and semen clearing themselves from skin and aching muscles soothed. "Thank you…"

Newt hesitated only until he knew Percival was fully asleep before he slid out from the covers, slipping on striped pyjama bottoms gingerly and calling his navy-bound sketchbook over to him from the window-seat. He summoned his pencil and a number of coloured oil pastels to his hand as he needed them, propped up on cushions in the bed beside Percival. The hum of his aura was softer in sleep, more focussed around his slumbering eyes and temples than anywhere else on his body which had settled down to a russet glow. The amber ran over him in spiralling, swirling waves and was tinged just very slightly at the edges with his own forest green, tinged by the contact and the emotion, a shared passion.

It was utterly mesmerising.

And somehow a perfect blend.

A balance.

A/N – One chapter left and I want to once again thank everyone for the amazing support and hope that this ends as well as I hope it to