So yesterday was my birthday. Here's my gift to you. Reviews make me happy, *cough cough*

Newt Scamander's POV

Shock flashed over her features, causing him to regress his previous statement.

"I-I-I-meant lift...UP. Lift UP your shirt. You-you don't need to take it off, or-or show anything! Or-erm..." he exclaimed, eyes darting around the room as an indication of his discomfort.

Though discountenanced by his suggestion, she slowly nodded. Time slowed as she reached for the hem of her shirt, hands shaky with apprehension. Against his better judgment, his gaze trailed its way back, as if the magnetic pull of her mere presence demanded his full and undivided attention. Fixated on her movements, his pulse raced as she gradually revealed her feminine stomach, inch by tantalizing inch.

He tightened his grip on the cotton, knuckles turning white as he fought to constrain his impulses. How selfish and deplorable he felt for his lack of composure. She trusted him, yet he allowed his eyes to wander, violating every indecent rule he could think of while he held himself fully accountable.

With reluctance he leaned forward, pushing the lascivious thoughts of her in the far, dark corners of his mind. A prohibited, restrained corner - that he never knew even existed until it currently egged at the dark recess of his subconscious. Determined, he carefully applied the healing potion, each gentle stroke leaving her skin renewed and flawless as green wisps of mist evaporated into the air.

"Lovely..." he thought, unaware that the two syllables involuntarily slipped past his lips in a deep whisper.

"What was that, Professor?" she asked, timidly.

He inwardly recoiled, struggling to maintain his façade as he came up with a chaste response.

"Oh-I was going to say that the dittany...i-is doing quite tremendously in preventing the scarification. Your skin is responding quite well."

"Hm. That's good?" she replied with uncertainty. "But shouldn't...you save that for something more...trivial? Than this?" her voice soft as she kept her face turned away.

He scoffed. "Don't be silly. Your wellbeing is my priority. Besides, your skin is far too pretty to be scarred."

Upon finishing his sentence, the cotton came to an abrupt stop at the apex of her swimsuit top. If it weren't for his impeccable sense of hearing, he would have missed the barely audible gasp that she made-

and oh...was that an addicting sound.

Much to their discomfort, he knew that the abrasion had continued further up, disappearing underneath the rumpled shirt into unfamiliar and dangerous territory. Her hand, as if obeying his silent and unintentional command, lifted her shirt higher.

A memory flashed in his mind. A vivid scene of himself and a former sailor on the beaches of Greece; kicking sand as they walked, while they argued over the credibility of certain myths that suggested that Sirens can lure a man and drive him insane. That is, if said men were unfortunate enough to witness their enchanting beauty. In his opinion, only weakened individuals who lacked decorum fell into temptation. However, he ruefully admitted now that he was the fool, being under the presumption that he, was different from the rest of the men.

But there he stood, a complete hypocrite to his self proclaimed noble and gentlemanly conjectures. His instincts threatening to preside over him as he practically ogled the creamy and enticing pillows of her breasts that his hand ached to reach up and-no!

ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Even the mere thought was detestable.

How dare he.

Withdrawing his hand, he tore his eyes away, trying to focus on nothing in particular around the room. Her eyes remained closed, and he thanked his lucky stars that she did not notice the crimson shade that adorned his entire face. It was debatable whether it was her close proximity, or the fact that only a sheen piece of fabric served as a barrier between them that contributed to his growing insanity. Bloody hell. Only school boys are supposed to feel this way. What was it about her in particular that would stir such an irrepressible reaction? Perhaps it was the spark of passion in her wondrous eyes, or her fierce nature that only presented itself when she spoke her mind.

Maybe it was the way the drops of water trickled down, teasingly, over the perky swells on her chest and in between her glistening cleav-

"Stop." He chastised himself, lips forming a firm line as he concentrated on his task at hand...or at least attempted to.

"I'm going to use a drying spell," he stated. "I should have done this a bit earlier...You're absolutely soaked down here." he said, inadvertently causing her body to go rigid. He took note of this and looked up. "A-are you alright?" he asked sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I should have noticed earlier. I-it must be uncomfortable...to still be dripping wet-"

"Profess-!"

"-from the lake water. "

"...Oh..." she exhaled, visibly deflating as she furrowed her eyebrows, blinking rapidly. She swallowed dryly and hid her face behind a curtain of hair.

"Can't have you falling ill," he explained, "or you'd end up in my bed for a week. Wh-I mean, in bed for a week. Not my bed. Surely not my bed. I mean, my bed is welcome to you whenever you like. Sweet Merlin, let me rephrase that," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "you are welcome to use my bed if you don't feel well. If...if that's something you'd con..sider. Or something like that?"

"W-I...Uh..."

"F-forget I said anything!" he spluttered, wanting to bang his head repeatedly against the desk for his stupidity. He cast a drying spell over both of their bodies as a distraction from his obvious lack of articulation. What exactly was he trying to convey anyway?!

"I-I'll...um...keep that in mind? Anything you think would be best for my wellbeing, Professor Scamander." she said nervously, voice trusting. He had to ignore the effect she had on him when she addressed him this way. Or the way his last name rolled off the tip of her tongue like a slow caress and drew him in entirely.

"E-" he squeaked, clearing his throat to retry that pathetic attempt at speaking, "Excuse me, b-but-I-I have to warn you...I'm g-going to..." he paused and took a breath, mentally preparing for his bold words, "have to-t-t...touch you..." he stammered, "t-there." he gestured to her cleavage, head tilted in shame.

"Uh. Excuse me?!" she said incredulously, locking her eyes with his own.

He held his hands up in defense. "I-I just need to treat the rest of the cut! T-to stop the bleeding and pre-prevent it from scarring! Just a smidge of potion and it'll be done." he reassured her.

"...Oh." she mumbled, noticeably relieved. "Fine. D-do what you have to," she winced, as if regretting her words.

A moment passed and he nodded in understanding. With hesitation, he leaned towards her again, holding in a breath he didn't mean to. With one last flex of his hand, he extracted the potion from the cotton and allowed it to drip over her wound. Initially, he had assumed that directly touching the cotton to her ample chest would be too much to handle; but letting the cool liquid run down in between them proved to be much, much worse.

The intensity of his desire growing with every rise and fall of her chest, she gasped again the instant the liquid fell against her skin. He clenched his teeth, biting back a rare and seldom used profanity at the revelation that the student before him, in his eyes, embodied visual perfection.

He shot upright and took two steps back, impulsively dropping the cotton as if he had been at the receiving end of a Disarming Charm. She peered over at him, her body poised in alarm.

"Excuse me-I-I have to uh...get s-something-um-" he nearly tripped over a chair, catching his coat as it fell off and stumbling towards his bedroom door. He opened it just enough to slip through and shut it abruptly behind him. Letting out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttered shut and he bit into his fist.

"What. Is. WRONG with me? Merlin's beard! This cannot. CANNOT HAPPEN. I need to focus. I need to-I need-I need...a cold...shower. No." he rested his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. "I need to get a hold of myself. Okay, breathe, Newt Scamander. Breathe. You're behaving like a tosser." he muttered, feeling borderline pathetic and slipping into the comfort of his trench coat. "You're going to go back out there, and tell her that she is free go back to her dorm. Nothing to be nervous about. You've-you've tamed DRAGONS for Merlin's sake! She is JUST a student. Just a student. Just...a...student." he repeated to himself in between heavy breaths.

Determined, he faced the door, fixing his bow tie nervously then wrapping his fingers delicately around the cold brass handle. Fighting through his hesitation, he turned the knob, pushing the door open with a stale creak. His calculated actions were interrupted by the sound of dragging and friction along the carpeted floor. It shuffled past his legs in the form of a small blur and into his room. He whipped around instinctively, locating the source of the sound.

To his dismay, the evening bag that belonged to her-to her of all bloody things, had his Niffler's rear end upright in the air as it rummaged through the contents. Blast it all, she is going to kill me.

He snuck towards the Niffler, dodging and catching items that were being discarded from the bag as it remained preoccupied under the muffled rustling of fabric. Suddenly it sat upright with a content sigh. Newt froze, eyes widening as he witnessed the Niffler jubilantly stuffing a sparkly article of clothing into its pouch. He gaped at his furry ball of mischief as its beady eyes leveled to his own. Never breaking eye contact, the Niffler tentatively reached forward again, tugging straps to pull out a dark silk bra that adorned diamonds and lace. Newt was stunned beyond comprehension, cursing Merlin's bloody existence for his worsening luck.

"...Really?!" he exclaimed in a frantic whisper.

The Niffler snorted in response, shoving one cup of the bra into its pouch and making a noise that Newt identified as snickering. "REALLY?! Of all the-give me that!" he lurched forward, his fingertips barely brushing against the Niffler's fur as it scurried underneath his bed. He landed gracelessly on his knees and elbows, recovering quickly and casting Lumos on his wand to aid in his search.

Ducking his head down, he waved his wand through the dark swiftly until he caught sight of its shadow crawling from the floor and up the opposite bedpost. He leaped onto the bed, almost losing his balance as his boots disappeared one after the other into the lush mattress. He righted himself, glancing upwards to spot the Niffler already watching him from the top of the post.

Catching his breath, he held his hand out, body radiating with annoyance. "Come now. Give it to me." his tone light and stern as if speaking to a toddler. The long snouted creature shook its head stubbornly - and to his horror, started hugging the bra lovingly. Newt's jaw dropped.

Unbloodybelievable.

"FOR THE LOVE MERLIN-d-don't hug it like that!" he almost shouted, exasperated. "That t-touched her on the-no-that's not-that is NOT acceptable!" he pointed. The Niffler scooted away, hiding the bra from view. "Hey! S-stop hugging it I said! That is BAD. B-A-D!" he reprimanded, emphasizing each letter with a point of his index finger. "Now bring it here please." he demanded, his patience growing thin. His request was met with silence. "Pleaseeeeee?" he groaned, defeated. "I'm asking you nicely now. What you took, you have to give back. This person needs it. I'll...I'll...take you to my vault later, okay? Just give me those." he reasoned.

Newt waited, feeling some ounce of victory as the Niffler reluctantly reached into its pouch. Eventually a thin, sparkly piece of fabric was tossed over. Newt shot his hand out, catching it with ease. "Thank you," he smiled, tossing the item in the air and catching it again. "That's a start. I very well appreciate you giving thi-OH...my...word." His body went rigid.

They were knickers. Matching knickers.

In his hand.

IN. HIS. HAND.

He gawked at them, completely baffled. Heat rose to his face, his hands...every inch of his skin. He was surprised his nose didn't bleed. Before his body betrayed him, he ignored the tingle that sped down his spine and clutched his hand to cover it. His frazzled green eyes shot up to the Niffler in bewilderment, only to find that the little bugger had scampered away. His observant gaze quickly followed as it ran along the top of the bedpost curtains. Continuing his pursuit, he jumped forward hastily, missing the Niffler by a fraction. The momentum threw off his balance, causing him to wrap his free hand around the horizontal rail the creature had just abandoned.

However, gravity was not on his side, and the rail snapped off the two supporting posts, sending him crashing to the floor in a tangled mess of curtains.

"Professor Scamander? Everything okay?" the sweet voice of the student who occupied the next room echoed through the wall.

"Fine! Erm. Just fine! Just l-looking for something!" he called out, quickly unwrapping the curtains from his torso. He grunted as he managed to sit up in the center of his mess. The Niffler ran from his direction underneath the curtain, and Newt dove towards it, seizing the strap of the bra as it came to view. He lifted his chest off the floor, pulling at the strap moderately to avoid damaging it. The Niffler resisted, tugging away with equal strength.

"Give...it! To...me...You're...going to...break it!" he said through clenched teeth. "That's it!" he huffed with wild eyes, doing one last aggressive pull. "No more vault for you!"

A disheartened squeak erupted from the fuzzy creature at this and the strap slipped from its hold, causing the bra to recoil and slap Newt right in the face. Newt fell back, his upper body impacting the floor. He reached up and grasped the bra to unwind it from his head. He glared at the Niffler, narrowing his eyes as it rocked on its back with laughter and mocked him. He reached for his wand-

"Are you sure everything's okay?" her concerned voice was now right outside the door.

His face paled. "Um, yes. J-just a second!"

The Niffler scurried towards his suitcase, stretching it open and disappearing into the crease.

Traitor.

The door began to swing open and Newt panicked as he held the bra and all its glory in front of him. Even toying with the thought of being caught red handed with intimate attire made his mind spin. Scrambling to a stand, he frantically stuffed both her bra and knickers into his coat pocket.

With a flick of his wand, the scattered and broken items repaired and rearranged themselves to their original state, including her discarded clothing. As soon as her evening bag zipped itself, he reached into one of his many inner pockets and pulled out another vial.

"Professor Scamander, do you need help finding something?" She emerged into the bedroom, voice raised with concern.

With a practiced smile, he held up the vial. "Oh, yes. Found it." he almost croaked. Raising the vial to her view, he strained to steady his breathing as to not give away his previous grapple with the Niffler.

"Oh okay." she smiled shyly. "I just thought...hm...nevermind." she said thoughtfully. "Oh, there's my bag." she stepped forward and bent down, retrieving her bag, while Newt stared off to another direction.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.

"What were you looking for anyway?" she asked.

He inwardly jumped. "Oh, well," gestured to the door, "I'll-I'll show you out there." he responded, trying to control the shake in his voice.

"Alright." she agreed.

"After you," he said politely. With a nod she complied, making her way to the door.

Eyes trained ahead, he avoided looking at any part of her as he followed her back out to his desk.

"I think my legs are okay," she began, "I decided to try to treat the rest with the cotton you dropped. What do you think?"

He inspected her knee, eyebrows raising in surprise. "They look...great. How did you know how much potion and how to apply? They're completely healed," he said, astonished.

She bit her bottom lip bashfully in search for words.

Will she stop doing that! Doesn't she know that it's dangerous for men to see her do that?!

"I-I just replicated the pressure and amount of potion I felt. It was the effectiveness of the potion, I think. Not my application."

"Actually, no, there are certain techniques on how healing potion should be applied. Especially when it comes to Dittany." he stated, eyes still observing.

"Really?" she looked down, turning her leg outward and giving him a fond view.

He swallowed dryly. "Excellent! Well uh-here." He straightened and extended his hand with the vial. "I-I wanted to give this to you to take before sending you off. It's Murtlap Essence. You can use it for any other minor cuts. You're well enough to go now."

She closed her fingers around the vial, the contact of her dainty hands making him almost helpless under her touch. She smiled warmly. "Brilliant. Thank you Professor." Adjusting her evening bag and giving the office one last glance, she eyes met his again. "Goodnight."

Tucking her damp hair behind her ear, she walked away - this time without his assistance, her hips naturally and enticingly swaying with each step. His eyes flickered down and he watched. Now she was at the door, reaching for the knob, the finality of this unorthodox and eventful meeting hitting him. Suddenly, he was overcome with loneliness, the feeling of deprivation at her departure leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Something stirred inside of him; something foreign, that he couldn't even explain, and despite his insistent refusal...he acted upon it.

His voice pierced the silence against his better judgment, and she paused. "Actually I..." he stepped forward eagerly, "I can escort you back to your dorm."

She faced him again, eyes widened in disbelief.

"You will?" She asked faintly.

He needed to think of a proper reason, and fast.

"Are you sure? It's not necessary, Professor, I know my way back." She insisted.

"Well...given the circumstances I feel it is proper to ensure my injured student makes it safely to her chambers. Especially, since, you have been under me-under my-under my...care." He urged.

"Ohh. Understood, Professor Scamander. I suppose I'll be needing you to protect me from the spiders and ghosts." She jested, exiting the door.

He grinned, warmth spreading over him as he followed her lead and caught up to her side. Since when did he ever make an excuse to prolong someone's company? He'll think about that later.

She hummed, the sound resonating throughout the corridors in an enchanting melody as he walked next to her in comfortable silence. He could listen to this all day. Then she shivered.

"Ugh. These hallways are always so cold." She said aloud, her irritation growing as she rubbed her forearm.

Before he could respond, his body had already slipped off his trench coat and placed it on her shoulders. She gasped, staring up at him wordlessly.

Why did he do that? When did the thought even cross his mind?

SINCE WHEN does he act without consultation of his conscience FIRST?

"You don't have to-"

"I insist. Can't have you catching a cold...remember?" He said to the ground in front of him as he walked, trying to sound convincing.

She hid her face into the collar, choosing not to argue and wrapping it tightly around her smaller form.

"Thank you." She mumbled.

He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide how shaky they had become, watching in fascination as she led the way again, pressing certain bricks and tugging on specific lanterns to open more corridors. Somehow time had sped through as she came to a stop in front of a massive staircase.

"Well I made it back alive." She announced, turning on her heel to face him. "Thanks to you."

He smiled, feeling hopeful and guilty all at once at how his first night in his new home had caused so much chaos for this girl in particular.

"I'm glad." He said almost hoarsely, fidgeting with the back of his ear again under her gaze. She took note of this and spoke again.

"I promise to keep this a secret, Professor."

His breath caught in his throat. "Wha-I'm sorry? W-w-what d-do you mean?" He asked, perplexed.

"I mean the random attack by Oscar." She chuckled.

"Oh. Right. Again, I'm very sorry for that."

"Don't be. Oscar is very sweet. I just hope you are good at keeping secrets too, Professor." She replied as she made her ascent up the staircase.

His lips quirked at her statement and he blinked rapidly. "I do my best."

"I'm sure you do. Can you find your way back?" She called out.

"I certainly would hope so."

She giggled. "Goodnight Professor. I'll see you around."

"Goodnight."

With heavy steps he trudged through his chambers, slumping heavily into a chair with a long sigh. His heart still raced from his previous encounter with that particular student, but he was glad it all worked out accordingly. His first day had been a rough one, but at least no one had gotten seriously hurt. Closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, he allowed his mind to rest. Tomorrow should be a better day. A day to do what he does best and start with a clean slate. He was now in a position where he could make an impact on the upcoming generation and for all magical creatures, with experience and education.

His eyelids grew heavy and he stood, absentmindedly fixing the collar of his trench coat that he realized was currently nonexistent. He froze.

His jacket. Was on her. And she has it...with her. He slapped his hand to his forehead and cursed out loud for the first time in ages.

Merlin's beard...her bra and knickers...were still inside his jacket pocket.