Bubbles.

That was what the silver haired boy with abhorrent features comprehended. His body was floating-but not in a sense where he could move so freely as he wished. There were murmuring outside of whatever contained him-hushed and rushed-urgent voices as if arguing. His eyelids wouldn't open on his command, so he relied on his hearing abilities.

"And you think that he would accept this sort of failure?" a voice was musky with a hint of a guile tone.

"What else can we say? The operation in his transplant didn't go according to plan. His DNA and the samples we got from the lab didn't exactly fused well as much as we hoped." Another one, but they sounded more indolent than serious.

"Don't create such an excuse. The boss only accepted subjects that are actually a success, not some sort of hybrid child!"

"Oh, yes because he wants everything to be perfect."

"He does. That's the point. You don't think that we captured all of those children for nothing and ended up with some twisted result just because the surgery didn't go well?" the first speaker argued. He slammed his hands onto a surface, rattling the objects in his anger.

"But sir, think about it. After all of the failed tests in the past, we were able to have a decent outcome. I-mean-look at him. He's still alive. Not many children have come this far."

That got the impetuous speaker to be silent for a moment. Then there was this sudden rustling noise that Fafnyr strained to hear. The man sighed in frustration. "Well, all be damned."

"What does it say?"

"Apparently, the boss is willing to go through with the plan." He chucked what sounded like paper in a random direction.

"Alrighty then, shall we move on to the next procedure?" The second speaker grinned maliciously.

He must have drifted off at some point-a daydream maybe. He didn't remember. He knew that he was witnessing one of his unwanted memories again. Ever since he has been hanging out with Newt Scamander; his nightmares were kept at bay. It was like he acted as though he was some sort of dream-catcher, whatever bode came trailing along-it would disappear… Fafnyr shook his head. He shouldn't rely too much on the wizard.

"…nyr…"

Fafnyr trailed his tail along the ghost of his bruises from the past. They covered a majority of his body-ranging from big to bigger-dark pools of damaged skin. He contorted his face at that spell that he was hit a thousand times either from his mistakes or from the sheer of entertainment from his handler. Crucio.

"…fnyr..!"

The beast's body flinched at the flaming touches of the whip, not to mention of the heavy kicks to his stomach and iron-fist punches. The screaming of his own voice grown hoarse; haunting his ears, just as someone from the other side calling out his name.

"Fafnyr." Newt nearly had his finger bitten off as he calmly prodded the dragon's head. "I-I'm sorry!" he retreated his hands at his sides and bowed his head.

Fafnyr's racing heart slowed at those bright green eyes and he hissed. "Don't scare me like that!" of course, human language didn't slip off his tongue.

Newt gestured to the window. "May I?"

The silver and blue animal glanced back at him before he stared out of the window, scooching enough for the man to sidle up to him. Newt propped his arms up and leaned himself against the pane, sharing the late morning view with him. The sky was covered in a blanket of ashy clouds, and the people below were bustling around in the streets.

"You know," he turned his head at the fascinated beast. "You gave us quite a scare." This time, Fafnyr bowed his head and let out a feeble moan. Newt arched his brows downwards.

"I'm sorry…"

Newt did a once-over on him and saw of how the scales glistened somberly, those silver orbs stared directly at him, but his tail acted strange. He regarded when it brushed the floor and curled around his ankles. However, contrary to the first attack, it didn't act as malevolent as it did but the embrace was a lot more welcoming. Newt's lips curved upwards and with hesitation, he reached out and petted his neck.

"One day, when you're prepared, I'll be here lending an ear for all of your secrets. If you're hurting, tell me."

This alliance that Fafnyr shared with him was different than when Queenie or Tina held. They may have been witches with sticks that served them magic-and they may have offered the same compassion for him, but what he had with Newt-he couldn't grasp on the concept-but it certainly felt special.

"He isn't wrong, you know." All eyes redirected to a voice, a clicking to Newt, to a green creature that poked its head from the lapel of Newt's coat. He popped out and walked the length of the man's arm and stood at Fafnyr's eye-level. "This man has proved to be trusting. He cares for us much as he does the same for you."

The tail's grip tightened, a little sneer tickled his lips. "You're Pickett, I presume? I thought that you hated me? There was defiantly a negativity that hung around me whenever Newt was around." The said man gawked at the scene; a bowtruckle and a dragon having a conversation in a mix sound of clicking and grunting. How fascinating!

"I may have my grudges against you. But I have learned that you are a lot like us, whether you're human or not. We share a similar. One where we struggled in order to survive. Nobody came to your rescue, until he did." He referred this hero to Newt, as both creatures bore their eyes at him, he shuffled his feet uncomfortably in the spot-light.

"Ah-yes?" He asked unsure.

Pickett returned his attention back on the dragon. "Come with us." He stretched his arm out, and his mouth quirked at the corners of his tiny face? This was something of which Newt hasn't seen a week. As if dragons could roll their eyes, Fafnyr smirked and leaned in gently at the bowtruckle's touch.