Again, very much thanks to my beta for being patient with me.
Terra returned to a camp full of frightened workers, her assistant wounded, and one of her guides missing. She spent days getting everything back to normal and trying to gather all the information she possibly could about what happened during her very short trip to England. She eventually discovered that the guide had been picked off by one of the winged serpents during the night while attempting to assault her assistant. Settling herself into the recovery and clean up efforts, she lost track of time, which was not something she usually mismanaged or overlooked.
The werewolves, already agitated by the human activity in their territory, finally lost control on the full moon two weeks after her return and overran the camp when an exhausted, and emotionally wrung out Terra forgot to check the moon phases and set their protective wards. They were on a bloodlust driven rampage that spared no-one and the last thing Terra saw was a massive clawed hand yanking her hammock from the tree she'd been moored in.
Newt Scamander dug through the wreckage of his apprentice's camp with hollow eyes. He could hear the hit wizards and the tracking team moving through the underbrush surrounding her camp, calling out when they found another sign of what used to be a person. Swallowing hard against the buildup of bile and saliva in his mouth, he resumed going through Terra's pack, found tossed into the tree near where he knew she normally slept. Strings of bloody cord still dangled from one tree, the ends already brown and half chewed by the insect life abundant in the area. Towards the bottom of her bag he found an old, worn, English to Portuguese dictionary with a letter labeled for her old school friend tucked between the pages.
A ball of pain burned in his chest at the sight. Newt did not look forward to delivering this letter to one of her only remaining friends from Hogwarts. Especially not this one.
Gods, he could clearly see Queenie grilling his apprentice mercilessly about the young man. Hours spent in his New York townhome he shared with Tina, laughing at Terra's flustered responses and creative use of transfigured creatures to try and distract Queenie. He wasn't sure he was even ready to tell his wife and sister in-law about what happened. Tears blurred his eyes as he came across several snow white feathers that had been turned into quills.
Newt blamed himself. He knew she wasn't in any state of mind, no matter what she'd said in her return patronus, to come back immediately and deal with the nastiness that had cropped up during her short journey. No, he should have pulled the entire team and scrapped her study. Forced her to go to Greenland with that damn unicorn herd even though he knew she wanted to move on with her life. And now…now Newt had to return to Scotland.
A tugging on his shirtsleeve drew his attention to one of his group of Bowtruckles. It was pointing into the canopy of trees overhead. Nodding his acknowledgement to the small creature, he tucked her belongings back into her bag, shrunk it, and stuffed it into his coat pocket. His knees cracked in protest when he started scaling one of the more accessible trees, but he continued upwards, following his Bowtruckle's insistent pointing and scurrying form.
Finally reaching high enough, he watched the Bowtruckle hurry towards an indention in the tree limbs and disappear before an angry scream and flurry of white wings heralded the ghostly form of an all white snowy owl.
Hissing and clacking it's beak angrily at the small intruder, the owl puffed up it's feathers, baleful yellow eyes narrowed in warning beneath blood soaked facial feathers.
He closed his eyes in pain then opened them to focus back on the unknown bird. Obviously someone had sent, or received, post with the intention of being humorous because of his apprentice's animagus form. And the poor post owl had gotten caught up in the attack as well.
Newt clicked his tongue at the bird, drawing it's attention to him and causing it to bark at him in the peculiar manner typical of the species. He smiled grimly and held out his hand, clicking his tongue again at the frightened bird. Those yellow eyes studied him warily then, shuffling it's wings first, the owl ran along the branch towards him and jumped, powerfully, from it's branch to land on his shoulder.
"Good bird, let's get you out of here shall we? I've seen enough of this mess."
The bird 'precked' at him and preened his hair affectionately in response.
At twenty-two, Severus thought he had seen enough loss to last anyone a lifetime. But having Newt Scamander show up at his classroom door as his last class was dismissed, he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. A feeling made worse by the sight of the worn travel bag in the older man's hand and the bandaged snowy owl regarding him from the man's shoulder. And, when Newt handed him the bag with a soft apology, he sank into the chair at his desk with a blank expression on his face.
For a moment everything was numb, cold, empty.
He had thought losing Lily had been hard, nearly world shattering. He had believed spending that time in Azkaban was enough to leave him with nightmares for years. And he had thought being a spy amongst the death eaters was the hardest thing he had ever done.
Merlin help him, but he had been wrong.
Newt quietly explained what happened and how much he regretted calling Terra back to deal with the mess at her camp. The older man had nearly broken down while describing how he learned something had gone wrong when he never got his twice monthly patronus from the Amazon encampment. How he found the grisly remains of several victims already ravaged by the indigenous wildlife. Of finding her sleeping area, and evidence of it being the site of an especially vicious and bloody attack. That, normally, she set wards to keep the pack at bay and he blamed himself because it was obvious she wasn't mentally ready to return and deal with things on top of the death of her friends.
Some of what the older man said, Severus already knew, some…some he wished he didn't know now.
Then Newt pulled out her battered English to Portuguese dictionary with the letter addressed to him tucked inside the cover. The older man did break down when a worn piece of parchment fell out and an illusory spell triggered, filling the room with the sound of a song her Master had heard her singing several times over the years.
Golden images drifted forth, driving away the shadows gathered in the corners of the classroom. That warm and radiant glow reflected off of the owl's feathers and laughter trickled freely from Terra's mouth whilst her ethereal form smiled at a ghostly image of Queenie Goldstein. It was obvious, by the older woman's waggling eyebrows, that she was teasing Terra about something that made the young woman blush and duck her head. And the song's volume increased, echoing down the halls surrounding the potions classroom, it's upbeat tone a stark contrast to the two men listening to it…watching the show.
As the song wound down to a close, the memory ended with an image of her laid back in the hammock, one foot tapping in time with the music, a smile on her face while she tucked a letter into her dictionary.
Severus was so wrong about what he thought loss was. Even with the familiar feel of her magic attached to the, years old, letter sitting unopened in his coat pocket, he could feel the keening agony of her loss tearing through him. He now feared the day he could no longer have that comforting tingle of magic that had gotten him through hell as it slowly faded into nothingness. Merlin, how long had occluded to the point that all he heard was her soft utterance of 'Ouriço' paired with the warm magic beating against his heart?
His chest burned as he tried to breathe through the pain screaming through his insides. He had thought he would get years of playing her silly guessing game before finally breaking down and reading the Portuguese to English dictionary he had shoved into the back of his desk drawer. Their night spent together, celebrating being alive, had been a mostly drunken blur of wandering to various pubs in search of tequila. Then, to his belated embarrassment, his badly fumbled kiss on her smiling lips. He still remembered the scent of her hair from when they crashed in a heap of clothed limbs on her hotel room's bed. Both too drunk, or more likely his own self being too drunk, to act on his attempt to put a move on her.
Dimly, he was aware of the sound of someone crying, ugly sounds of grief building louder and louder in his ears until he realized it was himself. And the arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders belonged to Newt Scamander, also lost in his own grief.
The sadness of a man who'd come to think of his apprentice as a daughter, in spite of their short time together. Broken and jagged sobs that tore through the heart.
Over the sound of their shared sorrow, Severus could even hear the angry barking of the strange snowy owl as it scolded someone forcefully entering his classroom.
A wave of powerful magic flooded the room, a comforting embrace of warmth and understanding. Albus had arrived to see what brought his old friend back to the castle and found only two men mourning another senseless loss.
And Severus wept over what he could have had if only he had opened his eyes to the reality of someone who loved him fully and completely. WIthout judgment or reserve.
Ouriço - hedgehog