- the guy who played him in deathly hallows
- a mop
- tom hiddleson
- daniel Radcliffe in a blonde wig
- tom Felton
- matt smith
- David Tennant
- the kid from home alone
- a snake
- a shadow from a subway sub
- Judy Dench
- the ghost of Shakespeare
- me in a blonde wig
Newt Scamander was an absolute work of art, and simply studying his features helped you relax, so you did. He sat at the polished oak table, his right leg shaking as he focused, his honey colored locks sprawled across his forehead. When he focused, these little crinkles appeared from the furrow of his eyebrows, and he would chew his lower lip whilst deep in thought. A golden beam of sunlight twinkled across his button nose, rosy cheeks, and brilliant blue-green eyes. He reached for his steaming mug of tea, letting the curls of steam crawl over his face before taking a careful sip. Then his lips twitched ever so noticeably, and you could make out the little dimples of his curious smile.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked, his head still bent into his leather notebook, his white feather quill tight in his hand.
You sat across the table from him, head in palm as you examined him, “because you’re very nice to stare at, Newt.”
This split his lips into a wide grin, and he gently set his quill down before giving his full attention to you. “I can’t focus when you’re devouring me with those eyes.”
You shrugged, giving a small grin, “you’re always staring at me, too.”
“Well, you see, with you - okay, but - you’re very, well-” New continuously tripped over his words as he fumbled to piece together his thoughts.
“Go on,” you encouraged, stretching your hand across the table.
Newt brought his eyes down, his hand coming up gently to rest in yours, his fingers intertwining with the most cautious ease. He strung his fingers between yours, his eyes looking over your hands for a good while.
“Newt, you’re doing it again,” you giggled, when he’d gotten distracted and removed his hand to draw patterns all over your palms.
“What? Oh, oh, yes, right,” he sighed, putting his hand back in yours. He looked back up, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Erm, well, you are the most fascinatingly charming girl I h-have ever had the pleasure of coming upon,” he began, his cheeks reddening at once. “So y-you see, when I study my creatures, I am always discovering more of their hidden wonders, as I am with you. Sometimes the sunlight will cross different crevices of your face, sometimes your eyes are darker than usual, sometimes a strand of hair falls loose, a-and sometimes you’re smile is so wonderfully mesmerizing that I must always…watch. I can’t miss a moment, you see, I have to study you until I know all you’re little quirks like the back of my hand.” Newts eyes had drifted onto a patch of table around halfway through, unable to hold your gaze.
You squeezed his hand really lightly to get his focus, “Newt.”
He released your hand and brought his own back down into his lap, shifting in his chair and looking very flustered when he looked back up at you.
“Newt, you’re too good to me,” you whispered, feeling ridiculous for wanting to cry.
“I’m just so lucky to have you, please know this,” he mumbled hurriedly.
You shook your head with a faint laugh, “what makes you think I have no reason to admire you?”
His jaw clenched a little, and you saw his face droop, “my love, there is nothing special to see.”
That physically pained you to hear.
“Newt!” you gasped, “Please, never say that again.”
He grew instantly worried, “Oh-I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I-”
“Shh,” you cut him off and stood up, heading around the table and taking a seat right beside him, turning your chair toward Newt. He half-heartedly turned to face you as well.
“Newt,” you smiled sadly, raising your palm up to graze his cheek. He twitched nervously under your touch, but you reassured him and rested your hand against his freckle dotted skin.
“Newt, you are the kindest and most amazing person ever, and I hate to see you doubting yourself like this. You are so special Newt, and I wish you could see yourself the way I do; as a sweet, loving, and most definitely heart stoppingly beautiful human being. Yes there are kind folks out there, yes there are gorgeous folks out there, but never have I found someone who is both as gorgeous and compassionate to the extent that you are, which is why I am so deeply in lo-”
You stopped short, realizing you had spoken too much and instantly freezing over. You had never exchanged the three magic words with Newt before, and suddenly it seemed nothing but terrifying.
Newts mouth opened, his skin warming beneath your fingertips, “What?”
“N-nothing,” you mumbled, dropping your hand nervously.
Newt grabbed your hand gently before it could fall, and took it in his own, bringing it right up to his chest. You could feel his steady heartbeat rapidly quickening beneath the fabric of his soft clothes.
“Do you feel that?” he gulped.
You nodded shyly, “Yeah?”
“That, (Y/N), is what one who is madly in love feels,” he smiled nervously. “This here, i-is physical proof of how I feel when I’m with you, and how it feels to be head over heels for y-you, my darling.”
You felt your own heartbeat falter before quickening, and Newt asked, “Do you love me too?”
He had said it so quietly that you almost missed it. His lips quivered, his slender fingers trembling as his face sunk into a state of absolute sadness and worry. You couldn’t even speak at the sight, so instead you brought his hand up to your own chest, and lay it against your heart. Newt stretched his fingers slowly across your front, his palm taking in the rapid and intense thrum of your heartbeat.
“You tell me,” you breathed quietly.
He brought his eyes from your heart to your painfully nervous gaze. Once again, his lips twitched and broke into that familiar smile. The sun sent flares across his warm features and illuminated his overjoyed expression.
“I would very much like to kiss you right now, if you would allow me,” he proposed shyly.
You couldn’t help but laugh, your smile stretching wide as you gave him a nod.
Newt pulled a stray hair of yours affectionately behind your ear before tracing down to your jawline and resting his hand beneath your chin. He gave you one last look before tilting his head in with a flutter of his eyelids. Your eyes closed at the moment where your lips made contact. It was only for the briefest of moments, but was plenty enough for you to feel intoxicated by the taste you were given. He was soft and gentle with you, as if you were a fragile piece, and his lips were full, warm, and tasted of delightful sugar sweet joy. You could feel his hand quivering beneath your chin, but you pushed your lips in a little deeper to show you were at ease with him. You felt a rolling crystal droplet trickle down from his eyes and down onto your lips, but the taste of salt in the kiss was one that you knew was from tears of joy. Newt’s timid lips twitched upwards against yours, and he pulled back a second later, forgetting to breathe for a moment. He gulped down the lump in his throat and took a deep breath in whilst opening his bluish green eyes again.
“T-that was-” he stuttered.
“Wonderful,” you smiled and bent forward, dropping a light peck against Newt’s nose. You brought your own head down to Newt’s chest, and burrowed into the crevice of his neck, where you breathed in the scent of flowers and, possibly, niffler. He brought his hand up to hold your head, his free arm coming around your waist and giving you a squeeze. You smiled against his skin and let your eyes come to a close.
Newt sat quietly, formulating sentences but only coming up with one, “I’m just… so lucky to have you,” he whispered again.
One thing that I haven’t seen being talked about is how cool it is that in 1926, the American Wizarding government had a black female president. The American Wizarding world in 1926 is more progressive than the real America in 2016.
Bathilda: Gellert, love, can you come over here and help me with something?
Gellert: *closes his book* Of course, Tante.
As soon as he arrives in Godric’s Hollow, Grindelwald begins exploring the little village. He discovers a quiet place near the graveyard, where he can sit down and write about his findings or read in peace - thankfully, Bathilda Bagshot’s library is bursting with books he had dreamt of laying his hands on.
There is, however, one thing that Gellert notices after a few days go by…
Someone is watching him. He is certain that every day from around 13:15 to 14:07 someone who lives on the upper floor of the big old house near the graveyard comes up to the window to watch him.
Gellert finds it rather…curious.
When he gets back home one day, he cannot help but finally ask his aunt about the house.