Summary: Theseus Scamander x muggle!Reader -> After taking a job in Kowalski's bakery, you meet Theseus Scamander.
Disclaimer: Fluff, bakery accidents, baker!reader, reader protects herself with a pan, reader is mentioned to be from the uk, dash of hurt/comfort, more fluff.
“Are you sure you’re not a witch?”
You chuckled at Theseus’ question. You’d met him around three weeks ago, when you got pulled into the hidden world of Magic. And in between now and then, it had been an adventure to say the least.
“As far as I’m aware,” you smiled, lightly, as you cleaned a couple of his wounds.
You’d sailed from England to New York six months ago in need of a change. And that change started when you got hired as a baker at Kowalski’s bakery.
Mostly, it was early mornings and spending hours listening to Mr Kowalski’s ‘dreams’ which helped him create the magical creatures out of pastry, bread and cake. And you…loved it.
However, things started to change even more when one morning two English men walked inside. Brothers, you gathered, considering they looked a little similar. One asked for Jacob and the other ordered two breakfast pastries.
Apparently it had been a long journey.
They were surprised to find out you were from the UK. Well, one was. The other smiled and said Jacob had mentioned he’d hired a baker from his homelands.
Jacob was with his wife, Queenie, who you’d only had the pleasure of meeting twice. Once on the day of your interview – she helped you nail it. And once when Mr Kowalski had worked late and even you had struggled to kick him out of the kitchen.
You served them their pastries with a smile and told them, if they could wait a couple minutes, you could use the phone in the back and call Mr Kowalski. They had agreed and thanked you.
However, just as you finally got through to Mr Kowalski’s home and managed to mention the names ‘Newt’ and ‘Theseus’, he shouted down the phone in excitement, called for his wife and then hung up.
“He said he’ll be here within ten minutes-”
Your sentence had fallen through when you walked back into the shop front and felt an intense atmosphere settle into your bones. Newt and Theseus were slowly standing from the small waiting counter, making their movements as quiet as they could.
Meanwhile, there were three customers seemingly looking around the bakery. They set you on edge a little, but rather than rush the moment, you tried to act as normal as possible.
“Can I help you gentlemen?”
The three men looked towards you and, unlike the smiles of Newt and Theseus, theirs set you on edge. “I’ve heard these are excellent pastries.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Perhaps there’s some more in the back? Perhaps a fresh dozen?”
You looked to Newt and Theseus who subtly nodded. But, as you were about to agree and move to check, you heard a chime from the back door. To which, no voice of happiness followed.
It wasn’t Jacob or Queenie.
“Actually, sir, we were just about to close for lunch. And those pastries aren’t the freshest. Perhaps you can come back later?”
“I don’t think so, doll.”
Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a loud crash. Pastries flew everywhere. You weren’t exactly sure what was happening, but as a guy held up a…wand? You reached for the hot skillet, covering the handle with a tea towel, and hit the fourth guy with it.
He screamed in pain as the hot, fresh jam seared through his skin.
You ducked as he yelled something and a bright light came from his wand. You swung the pan at him again and the wand fell from his hand, snapping in two under your heel.
“Get down!” Theseus yelled and, somehow, you knew it was aimed at you.
So you did.
A moment later, the jam-guy fell to the floor as if he’d been frozen in time.
Standing back up, you watched as more lights zipped around the bakery; breaking glass, exploding pastries, staining the walls.
You were left on your own as one of the other men started firing at Theseus, whilst another did the same to Newt.
The third was left, trying to sneak up and help the first. So, you took your chance.
With a swift hit, you knocked out Guy 3 with the skillet. Guy 1 paused for a moment and Theseus took his opportunity; just before you were hit with a streak of light, Guy 1 was sent out into the street and, finally, Guy 2 fled.
Both yourself, Theseus and Newt walked to the broken window to see Guy 2 land beside 1 just before they turned into…dust? And floated into the air and fled the scene entirely.
“Nice swing,” Theseus complimented as he turned and looked at you.
You were shocked, to say the least. Tired and…shocked.
“Thanks.” You took a breath. “Want to tell me what the hell all that was about?”
Before either of them could answer, Jacob and Queenie slowly walked past before walking through the door.
“What…”
Newt smiled before rushing over and hugging both Jacob and Queenie who smiled at seeing him, but looked worried for the bakery.
That was when you watched Queenie and Theseus magically set everything back into place as if nothing had ever happened. Meanwhile, you walked into the back and found Guy 4 still covered in jam and frozen in place.
“Oh, my god.” Mr Kowalski said as he stood beside you.
“Oh, my!” Queenie covered her mouth.
“What happened?”
You held up the skillet. “I, uhh, hit him.”
Behind both of you, Theseus chuckled. “She’s quite lethal with that thing.”
“You okay, sweetie?” Queenie asked you, touching your upper arm.
You nodded, “Yeah. But I’ve got a lot of questions, though.”
“Naturally,” she nodded. “How about we all take a seat and…talk?”
That was how you found out that magic was real. Witches, wizards, magic schools, spells, enchantments, mind reading, all of it. All of it was real.
And you’d just saved the Head of the British Auror office with a rather hot skillet of jam.
And it wouldn’t be the only time in the following three weeks.
There was a growing battle to find some ex-lover of a Professor at Hogwarts which was a school for witches and wizards from the UK. He was an incredibly bad man and it was only a matter of time before things all went to shit; like World War shit.
It was determined after two days that the safest place for both Jacob and Queenie was Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds. And, considering you’d saved Theseus’ life, and managed to accept the whole Witches and Wizards’ thing pretty quickly, you were brought along, too.
Which turned out to be a pretty good decision.
More than one bakery-like battle took place and, whilst you were only a ‘muggle’, you were also only just a muggle. It meant you were underestimated and managed to fool at least two random supporters of Grindlewald’s into believing they’d walked into the wrong store.
Sadly, your picture was also connected to Dumbledore supporters so then you were also hunted by Grindlewald’s people, eventually.
After three weeks, things were still headed in a terrible direction, but small parts of hope still lived on.
The last battle had just taken place inside of Abaforth’s pub. Chairs and tables were being put back together around you, Abaforth, Dumbledore, Newt and Tina (his partner and also head of the American Auror office) were talking quietly in the corner.
Jacob and Queenie were in the kitchens, making food for everyone which Abaforth had reluctantly agreed to, meanwhile you were cleaning Theseus’ wounds.
“I suppose you’ll live,” you said, placing the cap back on the healing balm you always carried with you.
Being a baker meant a lot of sauce burns and a couple of scrapes to your hands. So, after the sixth time, you’d decided to make your own balm. It was much cheaper than buying it.
“Honey?” He asked, recognising the smell.
You nodded, pocketing the balm. “And yarrow. Excellent for healing and preventing infection.”
Theseus smiled. “Thank you.”
“Always happy to help.”
Suddenly, Abaforth appeared beside both of you and the room between yourself and Theseus expanded as you both leaned back. Abaforth, watching both of you with judgement – though you wondered if that was just his expression – reached for the bowl and cloth of warm water.
“Are you sure you’re not a witch?” He asked you.
You shook your head as Theseus chuckled. “I’ve asked her the same thing, but she says no.”
Abaforth grunted before walking away.
Theseus moved close to you as Abaforth walked away, except, before he could say anything, Dumbledore called you both over and gave you, Jacob and Queenie a proposition.
Move to England. And open a chain.
“You’d be much safer closer to Hogwarts and we can keep you protected.”
“Of course, MCUSA can protect you in the States, but Professor Dumbledore is right. Hogwarts might just be the safest place.”
It only took Jacob a few moments to decide. Hogwarts was safe, but his home was in New York.
But a chain wasn’t a bad idea.
A month later, you found yourself running the second location of Kowalski’s bakery in Hogsmeade.
And, despite the distance of his office from London to Scotland, you had one very regular customer.
It had taken some getting used to, having people appear at the fireplace in the waiting area of the bakery, just between the to-go bags and fresh danishes.
But, apparently news of some excellent bakery items had travelled rather quickly.
You’d been running the place for just half a year when one evening as you were cleaning up, you heard the familiar woosh come from the hearth in the front of the bakery.
“I’ll be with you in just a second!” You called out. “But you should know the fresh produce of today is gone! We only have– Theseus.”
There he stood, broad and tall, with a polite look on his face. “Hello.”
“Hello,” you replied. He seemed nervous.
“Hi.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “You said that already.”
“Oh, right. Yes, I did, didn’t I?”
“Is there something I can help you with? I’m afraid we’re all out of breakfast pastries.”
Theseus chuckled and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. Okay, he was definitely nervous.
“Yes, I-I gathered that. Actually, I’m here…well, I’m here to ask you…you see–”
“Oh, just spit it out.”
“I was wondering if you’d accompany me to dinner?” The question he asked came out rather quickly and loudly, which he seemed to be shocked by himself. “Sorry, I was…I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner as a…date?”
For a while, you stood in silence watching him.
Over the last nine months, you’d come to learn a lot about Theseus. And you wouldn’t mind knowing more.
“Okay.”
He seemed rather shocked you’d responded. “Okay?”
You nodded with a small smile. “Okay.”
Then he smiled. “Okay! Okay, great! Does 7 o’clock tomorrow work?”
You nodded. “It does.”
“Great! Fantastic!”
Rather than leave, however, he still remained inside the shop. You smiled, “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”
“What? Oh, uhh,” he chuckled, again. “No, not right now. I-I should probably…go.”
You watched him in an excited tizzy that he couldn’t even start to hide. “Theseus?”
“Yes?” He nearly banged his head on the mantel of the fireplace.
“I’ve made some stew,” you said, suddenly nervous yourself. “I know it’s not the dinner you were expecting and not date-like but if you’d like to stay…” You paused for a brief moment, correcting yourself. “I’d like you to stay…if you wish for dinner.”
Theseus smiled once more. “I’d like that.”
You smiled, thankful he agreed. “Great.”
That evening, things truly changed between you and Theseus. You were no longer just friends, thrust together in a fight you hadn’t even known was building. You were…a pair.
A pair of people that shared a simple meal and talked. And would do the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the next and…
“Think we set a trend, honey?” Queenie asked her husband as she fixed his tie.
Grindelwald was still on the run, but after going through so much pain, fear and terror; hope was needed.
Yourself and Theseus had planned on waiting until things were over before you decided to set a date to get married. But after two more pans were destroyed when you knocked out another group of avid Grindelwald followers, you both decided there was no time like the present.
Things were calm, for now.
So, in the snow covered ground behind the bakery, you and Theseus wed.
⤷ summary: Proceeding the encounter with Grindelwald in Paris, Newt goes seaward on a secret mission for Dumbledore when his ship is caught in a storm...
✧ word count: 4.2k
✧ pairing: newt scamander | siren!reader
✧ genre: romance, slow burn, angst, adventure
✧ warnings: depictions of death and trauma
✧ author’s note: New chapter whooo! You're finally in it! Feel free to comment or send me feedback via my ask box, I love hearing from you all. That being said, I hope you enjoy!
──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────
If he had to guess, Newt would say drowning is possibly the worst way to die. Granted, he hadn’t had much experience with dying. He’d had close calls, to be sure. He’s stared down the jowls and talons of many beasts in his lifetime and felt the quickening of his heart inside his chest. He’s felt the pain of teeth sinking into his skin, claws slicing at his flesh, and venoms burning through his nervous system. But a near death experience, he realized, is something he never truly ventured. That is, until now.
With new knowledge found, he’d prefer the killing toxins of a nundu, the quick burn of dragonfyre, the fangs of an acromantula, or the eyes of a basilisk. Now, even the instant death of the killing curse seemed a mercy. Anything else would be a sweeter fate than the constant, petty, futile fight for air. Drowning is slow. That’s the issue of it. After a while, you catch yourself thinking, ‘When is it going to end?’ It gives you time to beg for death. To yearn it. To embrace it with gospel like praise.
Drowning is the silent, sadomasochistic master of death, relishing in the domination of its suffering slave. It watches as you strangle yourself, doing everything you can to keep air in your lungs. Your own body betrays you, convulsing, trying its hardest to save you, but simultaneously killing you in its instinctual attempts to get oxygen back into your body. You feel it all. Water rushing down your throat and into your lungs. The spasming coughs that mean to expel it all out but only incite more gulps—in through your nose, your mouth, even your ears—you begin to fill up full of the stuff. Everything suddenly feels so tight, as if you’ll explode. It’s excruciating. All the while, you’re still fighting to swim up, to break your head through the surface and take that painful but liberating breath of air. It isn’t until the cells in your brain start to die that you feel a sense of peace. You stop struggling. You lose consciousness. Suddenly, there is no pain, and you feel glad…ecstatic even, because the whole affair is over. You can die now.
The only thing worse than drowning was, perhaps, the surviving of it. A sharp, painful breath is what woke Newt from his death-like slumber. It was a feeling akin to a thousand needles poking his lungs and chest from the inside out. Water sputtered from his mouth, and he turned on his side to reject the contents of his stomach: salt water, algae, and stomach acid. The regurgitated seawater burned his already raw throat and nose. Tears spilled from his eyes from all the varying sensations of pain: from his swollen throat, his bruised lungs, and fractured bones, to the ringing in his head, and his clogged eardrums. Newt’s fingers ran over the earth beneath him. Rocks. Hard, wet rocks and pebbled sand slipped between his slender digits. Blinding light scorched his mossy irises as he pried back his heavy eyelids.
It took several blinks and more effort than he expected to keep his eyes open and focused. All around him, there were rocks—thousands of them, weathered and worn, stretching toward towering, jagged stone formations that enclosed the shoreline. Above, the sky was a vast, cloudless blue. Waves crashed against his legs and lower back, drenching him.
His body felt heavy as lead. Each attempt he made at moving was harder than the last. He writhed about for a while, pain shooting up his sides and shoulder. The rocks beneath him dug into his flesh, grinding against his torso and knees as he managed to crawl forward a couple feet onto dryer rock. The pathetic act summoned an intense ringing in his ears and a throbbing ache at his temples. His frustrated groans ebbed into wheezing breaths, and tears welled in his eyes. It even hurt to cry. He felt humbled in this moment. Infantile. Like a newborn—unable to stand, unable to walk—easily overwhelmed and frustrated by the limpness of its body and the uncomfortable awareness that, despite being content in a floating edge of nothingness, it is now forced to live and breathe as a sentient being in an unfathomable world. Thus, amidst his solemn mournful cries, he had the fleeting surmise that he did indeed die in those waters, and, like the phoenix, was resurrected—reborn as something else. Someone different. Of one thing he was for certain: whatever pulled him from the sea did not save the same man who fell into it.
“Newt!”
Distant, muffled, calls of his name sent a wave of relief washing over his catatonic frame. Newt closed his eyes in silent gratitude, blinking away more tears that slipped over the bridge of his nose and the swell of his freckled cheeks.
“Newt!” Jacob’s desperate drawl drew in closer.
Newt wanted to yell back, to call Jacob to him, but when he opened his mouth to speak, only a weak, gravelly, aspirated garble came out. The act alone strained his throat, and he winced at the foul ache. He could just make out the sound of heavy footsteps, thumping and shifting loose sediment.
“Newt!” Their pace quickened, heading straight for him. Jacob called Newt’s name in beholden affection as he dropped to his side and pulled him into his lap.
“Hey, buddy. Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay,” Jacob coddled, as though saying it multiple times would somehow make it true.
Jacob propped Newt up, tightly holding onto his arm. The act caused another wave of nausea, and Newt spewed more seawater from his stomach. He went into another violent coughing fit, and in an attempt to help and ease his overworking lungs, Jacob slapped Newt’s bruised and battered back with a firm hand. Newt recoiled from Jacob’s touch, and his face scrunched in pain. His raspy yell sent Jacob’s hand flying high above his head.
“What—what, did that hurt?” Jacob nervously sputtered.
Newt motioned weakly for Jacob to lift up his shirt, and he obliged. Carefully, Jacob unclipped Newt’s suspenders and pulled up his dress shirt and undershirt that were still tightly tucked into his trousers to reveal his bare back.
“Oh my God…” The woeful expression escaped Jacob’s mouth before he could stop it.
The expanse of Newt’s back was covered in fresh violet bruises in varying shades. The greater portion of it was on his left side, encompassing his ribs. It spread to his spine and crossed to his right shoulder blade. Jacob pulled Newt’s shirt back down.
“I don’t know what to do,” muttered Jacob. He sat for a moment, intently looking over Newt, who was still composing himself. Then, his face lit up, and he looked at the briefcase sitting a foot away on his left. “I got your case!”
He grabbed the case and set it up in front of Newt. “I held on tight to this baby the whole night. Your seahorse brought me here—he’s in there, too! I made sure to get him back in. You got stuff in here, don’t ya? Magic stuff that’ll fix you up?” Newt nodded weakly. “I knew it,” Jacob clapped. “C’mon, let’s get you up.”
Jacob hooked an arm around Newt’s waist and pulled him up to his feet. He lifted Newt with surprising ease, despite him being nearly dead weight. Jacob was strong enough to keep him stable as they stepped down the case. What would usually be a ladder had become a set of rickety stairs. The magic of Newt’s case never ceased to amaze. Once inside, Jacob sat Newt on the cot. He looked around the shed, still in disarray from the events of the night before.
“Alright, uh…” He turned to the work bench, recalling the many times Newt had pulled mysterious herbs, vials, and salves from it to heal any ailments he had. “There’s gotta be something in here, right?” He looked at Newt.
Newt was using his left hand to unbutton his shirt. Shrugging it off his shoulders, he looked up at Jacob and then his workbench. He gestured to a drawer that was slightly ajar. Jacob followed his gaze and opened it. Inside was a notebook, some empty vials, and a skeletal-looking bottle. Jacob frowned and held the bottle up for Newt. Newt held his hand out to take it. He placed the bottle between his legs and used his left hand to pull the top off. A foul stench permeated from the bottle, and Newt hesitated bringing it to his mouth. With a quick swig, he drank the rancid potion, letting it burn his already sore throat on its way down.
It didn’t take long for him to feel it take effect. Particularly, he felt the effect in his chest and ribs. Whatever fractures or breaks he had would be healed by morning, though he would not enjoy the process. It was a consistent scraping feeling under his skin, which grew more irritating and painful the more he focused on it. He handed the Skele-Gro bottle back to Jacob for him to put away. He looked at his right shoulder to see the protruding bone poking at his skin. Newt had dislocated his shoulder before when a graphorn hand bunted him several feet onto hard ground. He knew a spell to set it back in place—but his wand. He was missing his wand.
The faint memory of his wand sinking into the depths of the sea crossed his mind, and an aching feeling bubbled in his stomach and chest. A wizard’s wand is an extension of his self, and though wands could break and change allegiance, and new wands could be acquired, losing your wand felt similar to losing a limb. Without it, he was virtually powerless. A spell was of no use to him now. Newt never wished he had the talent for wandless magic more than he did in this moment. It would make what he was about to do much easier.
Straightening his back, Newt carefully raised his dislocated arm and outstretched it in front of him. He breathed deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying not to focus on the pain. With his other hand, he grabbed his wrist tight. Jacob watched him closely, his face screwed up in a tight grimace. In one swift motion, Newt gave a sharp tug to his dislocated shoulder. A disgusting popping sound grated against Jacob’s ears as he watched Newt’s shoulder twist and pop back into place. Newt’s jaw clenched, and he tucked his right arm into his chest, doubling over from the sudden adjustment.
“Jeez...” Jacob sighed and moved to sit by Newt’s side. Taking Newt’s dress shirt, Jacob fashioned a makeshift sling, tying the sleeves together over Newt’s left shoulder and nestling his arm inside its hammock.
“Thank you, Jacob,” Newt’s gravely voice managed to push out.
“Don’t thank me,” Jacob dismissed. “I should be thanking you. You saved my life.”
The right corner of Newt’s lips twitched upwards into a timid ghost of a smirk. “Well, actually, it was the kelpie.”
“Newt,” Jacob cuts in, serious. Newt faltered as he met Jacob’s woeful eyes.
“I thought you died,” He frets. “I watched the ship split in half. It went up in flames—and the screams. So many people…I should have stayed with you, I should’ve helped!”
Newt shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t have that.”
“But I could have—“
“There is nothing you could have done,” Newt tried to comfort. “We were outnumbered.”
The air between them grew heavy as unwelcome memories of the night resurfaced. Jacob sighed and muttered a small habitual prayer for lives lost. Newt, upon finding the strength, sat up and walked to his workbench. His foot stepped on something fragile—glass—and it broke under his weight. Lifting his foot, he looked down and saw the cracked portrait of Leta smiling up at him. He carefully bent down and picked up the broken picture frame. He put it flat on the workbench to deal with later. He winced when a particular sharp pain shot up his ribcage, tightly gripping the edge of the bench counter.
“Maybe you should lie down,” Jacob suggested.
Newt shook his head. “No. The faster we get to the seer, the better.” He took a vial of green liquid from a rack and downed it like a shot of fire whiskey. His pains subsided quickly, much of it numbing while more severe pains dulled to a manageable ache. He told Jacob they would leave the case once he checked on all his creatures, ensuring each one wasn’t hurt, especially the kelpie. Jacob, deciding it was useless to argue, nodded and stayed in the shack while Newt gathered a pail and his wand on his way out.
⁎ ⊹
⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂
⊹ ＊
Much to Newt’s relief, most of his creatures weren’t harmed. Some were more anxious than usual, others seemed completely unbothered. Some enclosures were in disarray, but Newt manually repaired them to the best of his ability. The kelpie seemed happy to see him when he walked to the edge of its enclosure. It had sustained some minor injuries but nothing worth causing worry. After ensuring each creature was fed and cared for, Newt returned to Jacob in the shack. When he entered, a once-sleeping Jacob startled awake.
“Sorry,” Newt croaked out.
Every time Newt spoke, Jacob had to keep himself from cringing. The gravelly nature of his voice sounded painful, and he couldn’t help but sympathize. He cleared his throat and sat up in the cot, explaining that he wasn’t asleep, only resting his eyes. Newt fished around inside a nearby cupboard for clean, non-seasoaked clothes. He tossed some to Jacob, who had lost his suitcase to the sea.
“Uh, I don’t think these’ll fit,” said Jacob.
“They will,” Newt assured, picking an outfit for himself.
As they dressed, Jacob marveled at how the clothes Newt had shared with him slipped over his larger frame with ease, adjusting to his size. Newt stared at himself in the mirror attached to the cupboard door. He stood half-naked, intently taking in the strange reflection. His slender frame was painted black, purple, blue, and yellow-green. His hollowed eyes stared emotionless back at him, accompanied by dark grey circles. Any warm color that had given his skin a healthy, youthful glow had disappeared, and he looked almost ghoulish. Newt looked away from the mirror and continued to clothe himself in a simple white quarter-sleeve cotton shirt with a deep open collar. He wore brown slacks attached to matching suspenders. He found a long sliver of blue fabric on a shelf, perhaps an underused cravat he forgot about. It worked well enough to fashion into a sling.
Once finished, he turned to Jacob. “Ready?”
Jacob finished tucking his tie and nodded. Wordlessly, they both stalked up the case stairs and opened the hatch. Again, they stepped back onto the beach. It was late afternoon, from what Newt could tell by the sky. The tide had begun rolling in, and the edge of the sea was much closer than it once was. Turning his back to the sea, Newt studied the surrounding land. Rocky and steep, the beach they stood on was a cove sloping beneath a vegetated mountainside. A direct path etched upward to the mountaintop. There seemed to be no visible signs of human life, which silently worried Newt. The cooling sea breeze rippled his shirt and caressed his hot skin.
“We should walk up to the top of the mountain,” said Newt. Jacob looked up the steep mountainside and deflated. The Mediterranean summer sun already had sweat beading at his hairline; a hike up a rocky mountain was a dreadful thought.
“If we’re lucky, we will find a village or someone to give us directions,” Newt continued as he collected his case.
“Luck and us ain’t exactly friends, though, are we?” Jacob grumbled aside.
“Perhaps not.”
Jacob looked out to the sea. From where he stood, he found it hard to believe the enticing, calm, blue waters in front of him were the same waters he watched swallow a steamboat full of people. “You don’t think they’ll be coming after us again?” He frowned.
Newt thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Not for a while, at least. For now, they have every right to believe we’re dead. Though I’m sure once they realize we are not, they’ll be back for the relic.”
“What relic?” Jacob asked.
“I don’t know. But clearly it is something they do not want me to have—something they don’t want Dumbledore to have. Inevitably, I must have it, whatever it is.” Newt turned to Jacob almost excitedly. “He reacted too quickly. He must have had a vision of me with this relic and got scared.”
Jacob scoffed. “Grindelwald scared?”
“That’s the only explanation that makes sense. Whatever relic Grindelwald thinks I have must be a threat. Why else would he prematurely send his acolytes? This seer Dumbledore is bread-crumbing us to must know something about it.”
“I guess so. I just don’t understand why Dumbledore couldn’t tell you straight out—JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”
The men’s eyes set upon the half-submerged figure bobbing far out in the water. The sun hung low behind it, covering its face in shadow, but it was unmistakable by the soft slope of its neck and shoulders and the outline of long, wet hair, that it was a woman.
“Could she be a survivor?” Jacob wondered. “HELLO! MISS ARE YOU OKAY?”
The woman’s figure stayed silent and still, aside from the periodic rise and fall of waves rolling into her. Jacob continued calling out to her, hoping to get a response. Newt, however, only stared, brows slightly furrowed. He couldn’t see their features, and yet, he could feel it: the unmistakable bore of eyes on him. It was unnerving. A shiver tickled down his neck and spine, and his heart skipped every other beat.
“Jacob,” said Newt distantly. Jacob stopped calling out and turned to Newt, whose eyes were fixed on the bobbing woman, as if in a trance. “She’s not a survivor.”
Jacob looked back to the strange figure in the sea. He frowned, eyes squinting to get a better look. Newt stepped closer to the shoreline, and almost in tandem, the shadowy woman swam backward. Newt stopped immediately, not wanting to scare her off. He thought he imagined it. That it was one last hallucination before his consciousness slipped away. It was shameful how easily he accepted such a lame excuse. He never gave it a second thought until now. The feeling of arms hooking underneath his and pulling him through the water. The faint shimmering detail of a large iridescent fish tail swishing between his limp legs. It had been real. Not often is Newt astonished by the many inexplicable wonders of the world, having traversed it well, but this was something so entirely mystical, something so intangible, he felt weightless and overcome.
Newt slowly and gently placed his case on the ground. Using the tactics he often utilized with beasts, he held up his unbound hand in a non-threatening manner and crouched his large frame to appear smaller and less threatening. “I mean no harm,” he called out to her. Jacob watched his friend curiously but kept from interrupting. He, too, mimicked Newt’s behavior and bent over in a crouched manner.
The figure stared at them for a moment longer, silently wading in the water. “Lower your head,” Newt instructed his friend beside him. Nodding, Jacob bowed his head along with Newt, staring at the rocky shore beneath them. The tide inched closer to the tips of their shoes as waves crashed over the slippery rocks. They silently waited—for what, they were unsure, but they stayed crouched over for so long their leg and core muscles stared to burn. Newt stayed hovering, unyielding despite the increasing burning pain and soreness of his injuries. Only the sound of wind and sea lapping at the shore and nearby rock accompanied the occasional seagull squawk.
“How long we gotta stand here like this?” Jacob strained after a while.
A sinking feeling rose in Newt’s chest. Was she still there bobbing in the waves? Did she swim away when they weren’t looking? The thought grieved him. Slowly, Newt lifted his head, expecting to see nothing but empty, open sea. His soft, sudden gasp caused Jacob to finally lift his head. When he did, he yelped, jumping and falling back hard onto the hard ground. He stared wordlessly in disbelief and fear, whereas Newt stood firm, still bowed before the daunting figure before them.
Less than a foot in front of them, laid upon the rocks of the shallow sea edge, was a beautiful woman with long, drenched locks that hung around her face and stuck to her glistening skin. She had the most tantalizing eyes, decorated with long, thick lashes that watched them with both child-like curiosity and wary uncertainty. Her focus seemed to predominately be on Newt, who was now the closest to her. She was naked. Her bare breasts were partially covered by her hair. The most striking detail of her was not her beauty, nor her apparent nakedness, but rather the fact that instead of bare hips, legs, and feet, she possessed a thick, lengthy, fish-like tail. The unblemished skin of her back and waist seamlessly transitioned into milky-white scales. Along the backside of her tail were spiked anterior and posterior dorsal fins and finlets. At her hips, flowing pectoral fins, and at her tail’s end, a large, matching, biconcave, lunate fluke. In the sun, her scales shimmered hues of purple, green, orange, and blue, like an iridescent pearl. She was, for a lack of better words, stunning.
Her eyes locked with Newt’s, unrelenting in their piercing gaze. He could feel himself growing nervous, almost bashful. Her neatly kept brows knit closer together as she tilted her head to the side, seemingly studying him as he was studying her.
“Can you speak?” He asked softly, so as to not startle her.
She stared blankly at him with no hint of understanding. Newt hesitated, then took a cautious step forward. The moment he moved, she recoiled, pushing herself further into the water. “I’m sorry!” Newt blurted out, freezing in place.
The magnificent creature stilled, and her eyes locked on him. She was practically predicting his every move. Wordlessly, she clutched something at her chest. Newt hadn’t noticed it before, but around her torso was a woven work of kelp and an old fishing net. After giving one last look, she broke their gaze to look down at her side where the strap of her intwined kelp and net turned into a deep pocket. It functioned exactly like a satchel, and from it, she pulled out a wooden square picture frame and placed it at his feet. Tina.
His eyes flew up to see her eyeing him expectingly. Without a word, she reached into the satchel again and pulled out a long, pointed stick, placing it beside Tina’s picture. His wand. She found his wand! Newt’s heart jumped excitedly in his chest. A wave of gratitude rushed over him, easing the sinking feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach. When he met the creature's eyes, his words escaped him. Such a radiant creature should not exist, and yet, there she was, staring doe-eyed and querying.
Every detail of her fascinated and beguiled, as is the nature of such an entity. He found himself savoring the image of her, from the arch of her brow to the curve of her lips. The way her hair framed her face and how the shadows contoured her cheekbones. He scanned the whole of her, committing to her memory. His gaze glossed over the curve of her shoulders, noting the smoothness of her skin, when he noticed the one and only blemish that scathed the crook of her neck and left shoulder. Burns, by the look of them. The exposed pink of her flesh and blisters that presumably continued to her shoulder were undoubtedly painful, though she showed no signs of it. Without a second thought, Newt reached his hand to push her hair out of the way so he could examine it further, but the moment his fingertips brushed her lustrous locks, she reeled back into the sea.
“Wait! I’m sorry!” He called after her, but she moved with such agility and speed; she was already diving her head back under the water. Her tail flicked over the surface until she reached deeper waters; her shining, shimmering tail flapped one last time before disappearing beneath the waves.
The two men left ashore remained dumbfounded, staring distantly at the open waters. Jacob, who hadn’t dared to speak from the moment the creature crawled onto shore, was the one to break their awestricken silence.
“You saw what I saw, right?”
Newt nodded. “Yes,” he said faintly.
A sudden exclaiming laugh burst from Jacob that quickly turned into a joyous fit of laughter. “I can’t believe it!” He shouted as he stumbled to his feet. “That was amazing! Did you see her? She was beautiful, oh my god! Newt, did we really just see a—”
“A siren.” Newt’s eyes stared longingly at the sea, the lilt of pure astonishment inflecting his tone. “She’s a siren.”
Fantastic Baked Goods and Where to Find Them (Newt Scamander x Reader)
Kowalski Quality Baked Goods was known for its eccentric desserts designed in shapes that seemed supernatural or… magical. It also had excellent customer service if you did say so yourself.
You weren’t sure how you had found the position at Jacob’s or how you knew the man, but it seemed like all of a sudden, you just had the job. Jacob was a wonderful boss and it was just the two of you at the bakery. You worked more with the customers while he was in the back, churning out the pastries everyone loved.
It was a random Thursday and the shop was dwindling to a close when the final customer came in. He was wearing a blue trench coat, waistcoat, and bowtie. He had a smattering of freckles and wide eyes that looked horribly out of his depth. His kind, naive look accumulated into an awkward smile. However, when his hesitant eyes met yours, his smile dropped. The stranger swallowed thickly and his eyes flicked to the ground.
You didn’t notice at first, too busy saying the polite, “hi! Welcome to Kowalski Quality Baked Goods! How can I help you?”
The man took one step forward and then paused. Once more, his gaze flicked upward and then back down. “Uh… what do you recommend?” he asked. His voice was soft, unlike most of the other men that walked in.
Your customer service smile turned just a touch more genuine. “Well, lots of customers like the faworki. It’s right here, the powered ones.” You pointed to it. “They’re two cents each or four for six.”
“Are they your favorite?” he asked. His blue eyes were still nervous, though the corner of his lips twitched to the side in that shy smile.
You laughed, though you usually did whenever a customer said something remotely funny. “I… I really like our cookies,” you said. “We have a lot of unique little creatures that I don’t know how Jacob creates. And they taste really good.”
“I’ll take three. Please,” he added, ducking his head.
“Any particular shapes?” The man glanced at the displays and then shook his head. You chose three at random before boxing it up.
The customer’s head was still tilted down, half-cocked though, so he could glance at you. He thanked you quietly once you handed him the box. He sprinkled eight cents into your hand and muttered, “keep the change.” He left with his chin tucked into the upturned collar of his trench coat.
***
You had forgotten about the customer the moment he left, which was quite typical considering how many faces you saw in a day. When he came in again it was only due to his trenchcoat and bowtie that you recognised him. “Hi! Welcome back! How can I help you?” It was nearing closing, just like the last time he came in.
The man glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting you to be welcoming someone else back. Once he realised he was, in fact, the only one in the bakery, he gave you that awkward smile of his you had come to find amusing. “Hello,” he greeted. “Um… perhaps some more cookies. I- I quite enjoyed them.”
“I’m so glad! Like I said, they’re not our top sellers, but I love them,” you said, already picking three new cookies up. “Anything else?”
Silently, the man shook his head. He looked… almost disappointed, but you didn’t want to pry. After he visited again later that week, you mentally filed him away as a returning customer. Eventually, you learned his name after he stammered it out once you asked him. Newton preferred to be called Newt, you learned, and so that’s how you greeted him from then on. You learned plenty of other things too, like that he only ever got the cookies (though sometimes also bought a loaf of bread), he would never come by during the day which led you to suspect he worked an office job, and that he decidedly did not have a wedding ring around his finger.
After your day off, Jacob even grinned at you one morning. “Someone came in yesterday and asked for you.”
“Really? Who?”
“Uh, taller, brown hair, British accent, and in a blue trenchcoat. When I told you Tuesdays were your day off, he seemed quite disappointed.”
You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face. Unfortunately, Newt didn’t come in for a few more days after that, but you didn’t have to wait too long before seeing his lanky form in the doorway. “My favourite customer!” you joked just to see his face turn red, which it did.
“I am?” He even pointed to himself like he needed the extra clarification.
“Of course! I’m sorry I wasn’t here Tuesday,” you said and his chin fell down sheepishly at having been caught. “It’s our slowest day so Jacob usually takes those by himself.”
Newt nodded and cleared his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind.” His voice was quieter and you wanted to assure him he had no reason to be embarrassed.
“The usual?”
“Am I that memorable that you know my order?” His crooked smile made you want to do something horribly idiotic. You would probably follow him into war if he asked just because of that smile.
This time, your laugh was genuine. “It’s only three cookies, Newt. It’s not too hard.”
“Touché.” He placed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight on his feet. “Your hair is nice– I mean, it looks good. I like it today. It’s good every day,” he ended in a mumble, staring at the floor.
You had simply twisted it behind your ear, but his compliment still made you smile shyly. “I know what you mean. Thank you.”
“Yes, you’re– well, you’re welcome.” He took his cookies and left, stumbling over his feet.
***
The next time he came in, a pretty blonde woman was on his arm. She was beaming and looking all over the shop, though her eyes didn’t lock on the pastries, instead scanning behind the counter. Her smile seemed just a bit strained.
Your stomach dropped and you were suddenly terrified you had misjudged his naked finger. Maybe instead of a wife, this was his girlfriend or paramour.
Her eyes then landed on you and all seemed right in the world. “You must be Y/n!” she exclaimed, hurrying to the counter. She placed her hands on the marble, fingers spread wide. “I’ve heard so much about you!” She took in a breath as if to say something, but then exhaled. She glanced back at Newt. “Oh, this is so nice,” she whispered.
What an odd thing to say, you thought. Still, the woman seemed so friendly that you couldn’t help but smile back. “Hi! All good things I hope.”
“Very good things,” she smirks and winks at Newt whose face subsequently heats up.
“Well, welcome to Kowalski Quality Baked Goods! How can I help you?” you asked.
The woman sighs and looks around for a moment more. “Do you know if Jacob is here?” she asked slowly and from behind her, Newt smiled to himself, tucking his chin down.
“I think he’s in the back, I can double check,” you said. “How do you know him?”
Newt stepped forward, but it was the woman who answered after a short floundering. “I went to early school with him for like, a year, when my parents moved. I doubt he remembers me, but it would be nice to see him anyway.”
You agreed and popped your head into the kitchen. Jacob was there, cursing at a new pastry that wasn’t forming exactly how he wanted it. He seemed relieved to have a distraction and wiped his hands on his apron before following you into the shop. You were too focused on Newt who was staring politely at the cookies to notice how the woman took in a breath and stared at Jacob with such longing. “Hi,” she greeted softly.
“Who is she?” you asked Newt, who was on the other side of the store. “She seems lovely.”
“Hmm?” He stood upright and almost knocked his head on the counter. “Oh, she’s an old friend. Her name is Queenie. She, well, she wanted some bread and so I recommended this place and now she’s here. Clearly.”
You braced your elbows on the glass display. “So… you talk about me?” you couldn't help but ask.
“No!” His response came too quickly. “I don’t! Well, I did, when she asked about the bread, but I don’t usually. Not that you’re not someone to talk about,” he added hurriedly. “But I don’t typically go around talking about you.”
You found yourself smiling, which seemed to be a common occurrence whenever you were in his vicinity. “I know what you mean, Newt. I was just teasing you.”
“Oh.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and his cheeks turned red. “Yes, I know.” He cleared his throat and requested his usual three cookies.
As you rung him up, you glanced over to Queenie and Jacob. The former was speaking in soft tones to your boss, who seemed awe-struck, yet decisively nonplussed. “I don’t think he remembers her,” you muttered to Newt. “That really is too bad.”
“Too bad indeed,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t looking at the pair. He was looking at you.
Queenie, with a loaf of bread tucked safely under her arm, headed back to Newt’s side. “Weren’t you saying, Newt, that you had wanted to show Y/n something?” Clearly, she had chosen to inflict awkwardness onto the store population.
Newt wanted the world to swallow him up right then and there, but found himself nodding. “Uh, yeah. It’s back at my place, though. Do you… Would you… Might I please take you on a date tonight?”
He was decidedly not looking at you, so after you nodded, you had to reply, “yeah. I’d really like that.”
***
The date had been wonderful. He presented you with flowers and took you to a little hole in the wall restaurant. Wanting to simply extend the time with him, you then suggested a walk in the park where Newt told you all about the history of pigeons and their once domestication. You weren’t one to go to someone’s house, especially after the first date, but Newt asked so politely and couldn’t even look you in the eye, fiddling with his cufflinks.
You thought, perhaps, you would get a couple kisses or something of the such when he led you to his bedroom, but then he crouched down and tugged an old, ratted suitcase out from under his bed. He glanced up at you from over his shoulder. “There’s something I want to show you,” he said quietly before opening the suitcase.
***
Newt had been passing the bakery for weeks now. Each time his feet slowed down as his eyes flicked into the windows before he caught sight of a very specific person and his feet quickened.
It was a Thursday when he finally gained the courage to go in. Well, not courage, per se, but his desperate need to hear your voice overwhelmed his anxieties. Two of his billywigs had just died and more than anything did he want to curl up in your arms and have you brush his hair. He had been wanting that a lot after the obliviate rain took you from him.
Finally, he pushed the shop door open and a little bell tinkled over his head. As he glanced around at the curation Jacob had created, he felt a stab of guilt. Newt knew he should’ve visited sooner. But the memories of the rain were still too close to comfort for a lot of wizards, such as him and Queenie.
Like always, Newt’s eyes found yours, even if he hadn’t meant them to. He felt his smile drift away.
Oh. Had you always been that beautiful?
“Hi! Welcome to Kowalski Quality Baked Goods! How can I help you?”
Newt wanted to tell you about his billywigs. He wanted to cross the counter and sweep you into a hug. He would fall at your feet and beg you to remember. He could already feel tears sting at the back of his eyes. Gosh, how did he go so long without you? Looking back, his life before you felt colourless, and now that he knew what it was like to have you and then lose you… A part of him wanted to run out of the store. “Uh, what do you recommend?” Newt managed.
He didn’t have a plan. How could he ever tell you about the wizarding world and the obliviate rain? You’d think he was a madman that belonged in an institution. Your voice cut through the anxiety in his brain. “Well, lots of customers like the faworki. It’s right here, the powered ones. They’re two cents each or four for six.”
“Are they your favorite?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Newt would paint himself green if it meant you would laugh for him again. “I… I really like our cookies,” you then said. “We have a lot of unique little creatures that I don’t know how Jacob creates. And they taste really good.”
Almost too quickly, he replied, “I’ll take three. Please.” Did he always have to be so embarrassing?
You slid open the display and leaned down. “Any particular shapes?” you asked and he shook his head rapidly. You ended up choosing a bowtruckle, a Crumpent, and a baby Niffler.
Newt stared at the animals. If only he could tell you that Jacob’s designs weren’t random – that you had, in fact, held a baby Niffler before and were one of Pickett’s favourite people. His eyes then flicked up to you, as if ensuring nothing had changed in the time he had spent away. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking the boxed cookies. He had to bite his tongue from adding sweetheart at the end. “Keep the change.” His chin burrowed into his collar as he left, trying to swallow back the sobs.
***
“Hi! Welcome back! How can I help you?” Your voice was heaven, Newt decided. He had slipped into the shop and quickly looked behind him. His eyes widened when he realised your voice was meant for him.
“Hello.” Newt raised his hand in a short wave. “Perhaps some more cookies? I- I quite enjoyed them.” He stepped up to the counter and stared at you hopefully. Maybe you would remember him this time?
Instead, you kept talking about the baked goods. “I’m so glad! Like I said, they’re not our top sellers, but I love them. Anything else?” This time, you picked another baby Niffler, a Fwooper, and a Mooncalf.
Just you, Newt wanted to say. For you to realise who I am and remember how much I love you.
Of course, he couldn’t say that. But he kept coming back.
You were like a drug. Even if you didn’t know who the hell he was or why he was so close to blurting out the names of the cookie animals you picked out for him, he would take whatever he could get. A couple visits later, Newt was greeted by, “my favourite customer!” which made his face flame up.
“You’re my favourite,” you told him one day after he got your book off the shelf for you. You had rewarded him with a kiss.
Newt cleared his throat, trying to disperse the memory. After all, how were you supposed to know your own mannerisms? “I am?”
“Of course! I’m sorry I wasn’t here Tuesday,” you said. “It’s our slowest day so Jacob usually takes those by himself.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he muttered, feeling the guilt seep back into him. You had a life now without him. You had a schedule he wasn’t privy to. He was disrupting this all by trying to make you recognise him.
“The usual?”
He managed a joke this time. “Am I that memorable that you know my order?”
“It’s only three cookies, Newt,” you grinned. She said my name. “It’s not too hard.”
Just then, his pocket shoved outward. “Touché.” Newt shoved his hand into his pocket to keep Pickett at bay. The poor little bowtruckle had been having some anxiety separation lately. Newt suspected it had something to do with missing you (“don’t we all,” he wanted to say to the creature). Against his better judgement, the man had brought the bowtruckle into the bakery with him, not anticipating how desperate Pickett would get when he heard your voice. Newt shifted his weight to try and distract from the way his pocket was bulging.
“Your hair is nice,” he then blurted out. His eyes grew wide. That hadn’t meant to come out. “I mean, it looks good. I like it today. It’s good every day.”
“I know what you mean,” you said with a smile too kind for him. “Thank you.”
“Yes, you’re– well, you’re welcome.” Newt grabbed his cookies and left, stumbling over his feet as Pickett shoved against his hand again.
You were standing at the train station, having watched Queenie already say goodbye to Jacob. The sister had already gone, leaving you and Newt alone and letting Queenie grieve in peace. Tears were flowing down your cheeks as you turned to look at Newt. “I’ll miss you.” Your voice cracked.
“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered. Yet, it was like he already knew what you were going to do.
“Will you come find me?” you asked.
Immediately, he nodded. “Until you get sick of me.”
You laughed, though it was marred by crying. You wiped the tears away. Slowly, Newt reached out and lifted your chin with two fingers. He brushed back a strand of your hair. It was twisted back behind your ear. “I love you,” he told you before brushing his lips against yours.
You could feel the goodbye in the kiss. Neither of you knew if this was going to happen again. You didn't know if you’d be able to kiss him or hold him, much less see him. So you took the seconds you got. “I’m scared.”
“I’ll come with you,” Newt murmured instantly. You nodded. And so he took your hand and stepped out into the rain with you. You closed your eyes, letting the rain replace your tears. His warm hands held your face so gently, but by the time you opened your eyes, he was gone, leaving only fading warmth on your cheeks.
You hoped that one day, the warmth would come back.
I’d love if you ever expanded your thoughts on the way JKR writes romance, because it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. One thing that’s very interesting to me is that jealousy is used as a driving force for both of the main romantic storylines in HP. It’s more obvious with Ron/Hermione (the Yule Ball, basically everything that happens between them in book 6, the locket horcrux stuff) but also plays a big role in Harry/Ginny. Harry’s jealousy of her relationship with Dean is what makes him realize he’s into her, and moments where he’s pining for Ginny tend to focus on that jealousy more than an actual appreciation of Ginny’s personality. The most important part of writing a convincing romance is making readers believe that these characters actually care about each other and want to spend time together, and it feels like maybe what you describe as JKR’s obsession with pining made her lose sight of that. What do you think?
We've also got jealousy as a motif in Harry/Cho and Severus/Lily. It is absolutely a trope she uses, a lot.
When I was trying to get my head around how JKR writes romance, the main thing that made it click for me was realizing that, to her - romance is inherently threatening. And/or embarrassing, overpowering, animalistic, dangerous. (thanks to @the-phoenix-heart for that line.)
Really, the Harry Potter books are kind of a romance-free zone. It is incredibly unusual to see a romantic couple, acting like a couple, on the page. We spend a lot of time with Arthur and Molly, and while they’re both pretty fleshed out as characters, we get almost nothing of their couple dynamic (and what we do get doesn’t seem all that positive…) The blocking tends to physically separate them - Molly isn’t at the World Cup or Harry’s hearing, Arthur is working overtime when Harry is at the Burrow, etc. This is a pattern: her romantic couples, of which there are not many, have a way of being in different rooms, on different side quests, one of them is mind-controlled, one of them is unconscious, it cuts to black right before Harry kisses Cho, and right after he kisses Ginny.
Ron/Hermione takes place mostly outside of Harry’s perspective, and Harry/Ginny takes place mostly out of *the reader's* perspective. It’s a lot of narration, a lot of “Harry could not help himself talking to Ginny, laughing with her, walking back from practice with her” and “[Harry] was supposedly finishing his Herbology homework but in reality reliving a particularly happy hour he had spent down by the lake with Ginny at lunchtime.” Like, I don’t know. I might have liked to see those scenes play out.
Bill/Fleur is probably her most successful couple (I mean, who doesn't like Bill and Fleur?) But even they almost never interact with each other. They talk about their relationship to other people, other people talk about them, but like… I’m just going to go through a rundown of every single time we see Bill and Fleur interact:
“’E is always so thoughtful,” purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill’s nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her cereal behind Fleur. Harry choked over his cornflakes.
(Romance = embarrassing)
What if [Ron and Hermione] became like Bill and Fleur, and it became excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their presence, so that he was shut out for good?
(Romance = embarassing, threatening)
Most [of the people at Dumbledore’s funeral] Harry did not recognize, but a few he did, including (...) Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred and George
(put a pin in this one, I’m going to come back to it)
“Bah,” said Fleur [in Harry’s body], checking herself in the microwave door, “Bill, don’t look at me — I’m ’ideous.”
(I actually think this is kind of cute in context, but unfortunately JKR is being uncharitable to her hyper-femme characters again, and making a joke about woman-in-male-body, which unfortunately makes it less cute in the grand scheme of things)
“I’m taking Fleur on a thestral,” said Bill. “She’s not that fond of brooms.” Fleur walked over to stand beside him, giving him a soppy, slavish look that Harry hoped with all his heart would never appear on his face again.
(Romance = embarrassing)
“We saw [Mad-Eye die]” said Bill; Fleur nodded, tear tracks glittering on her cheeks...
(Not sure if this counts as them interacting, but they are at least next to each other)
“No,” said Bill at once, “I’ll do it, I’ll come.” “Where are you going?” said Tonks and Fleur together. “Mad-Eye’s body,” said Lupin. “We need to recover it.”
(this one doesn’t even frame them as a couple, since the teams have split into Bill and Lupin and Tonks and Fleur.)
“We can’t tell you what we’re doing,” said Harry flatly. “You’re in the Order, Bill, you know Dumbledore left us a mission. We’re not supposed to talk about it to anyone else.” Fleur made an impatient noise, but Bill did not look at her.”
(... does this imply that Fleur isn’t in the Order? Anyway, they’re married at this point, and kinda disagreeing a la Molly and Arthur)
[Griphook] continued to request trays of food in his room, like the still frail Ollivander, until Bill (following an angry outburst from Fleur) went upstairs to tell him that the arrangement could not continue.
(Another conflict, but hey, at least it sounds like they resolved it. We hear about their daughter Victoire in the epilogue, but this is the last time we see Bill and Fleur together.)
But, okay. Not putting romance in the Harry Potter books is a perfectly fine creative choice. JKR can absolutely decide she just wants to give other things more emotional weight. What clarified this for me was the Fantastic Beasts films and her adult literature (particularly the Cormoran Strike books.) In those, JKR is wanting to write romance. And yet....
In Fantastic Beasts, she can write the awkward getting-to-know-you pre-romance stuff, but the second Jacob and Queenie are actually a couple - he loses his memory, then he’s brainwashed, she’s with Grindelwald, they’re different plot lines that never intersect… and then they just get married at the end of Secrets of Dumbledore. So it’s not even a slow-burn, will-they-won’t-they thing. Tina and Newt get the same treatment, except their pre-romance getting-to-know-you beats are so subtle that a lot of people missed them completely. Then Tina's angry at Newt for a very silly misunderstanding… then in a separate plotline… and is only in the third film for two minutes at the end. People compare the structure of these films to Indiana Jones, but in those movies the love interest is actually hanging out with Indy the whole time. In the Cormoran Strike books, the romantic leads do spend time together, but they’ve also been doing a pining, bad timing, will they/won’t they back-and-forth thing for seven books. And they’re long books.
So okay. What’s going on. Why is this.
JK Rowling has been very public about the trauma she has from abusive relationships and sexual assault, and I’m afraid I do have to bring that up in a conversation about why she treats romance so negatively. More specifically - if I had to guess - I think she finds male attraction towards women threatening. (I’m sure we all remember Harry’s chest monster.) I think she feels a little icky writing it, which is why when she does do it… it feels perfunctory, generic, repetitive, and also not the sort of thing that would come from a teenage boy. (Like when has a 14-year-old boy ever thought a girl was pretty because she had nice teeth. That’s such a straight girl compliment.) BUT, when she writes about the attractiveness of guys - it gets more specific, more nuanced, more interesting, and also a lot less uncomfortable. J.K. Rowling likes guys! She’s allowed.
But of course, she also tends to write male viewpoint characters, and I think this is why a lot of her guys (and Harry specifically) kinda read as queer to a lot of people. We’re told Harry is distracted by/attracted to Cho Chang… but is he though? Compared to the way “pretty boy” Cedric, or “sleek haired” Draco get under his skin?
I want to take a look at her adult romantic leads for a second. Because in Fantastic Beasts, she really did pull out all the stops to make Newt and Jacob as non-threatening as humanly possible. Newt is a gentle, pacifist, Doctor Dolittle-type conservationist who barely seems interested in women at all, and Jacob… is a Muggle baker. She pairs Newt with Tina, tough as nails American star auror. Jacob is with Queenie, who is constantly literally reading his mind. Which is an ability we’ve only seen with the most powerful wizards. These guys are not a threat to these ladies. In Queenie’s case, the power balance is tipped so insanely far in her direction that I’m a little bit worried for Jacob (and she does in fact, bewitch him into doing stuff.) I think JKR wrote her couples this way so any romance she wrote with them would also feel safe… and sadly I don’t think it worked. The most fleshed out couple dynamic we get is Dumbledore/Grindelwald, who have a coffee date and a duel in the third movie. But - that’s the one movie where she doesn’t have sole screenwriting credit, they’re exes, and they're also both GUYS, so she doesn’t have to worry about any kind of male/female power imbalance gunk, or put herself in the headspace of a guy being attracted to women.
Now I do want to talk about Cormoran Strike. Of all her non-threatening male love interests, this is the one who seems to work best for her. She’s stuck with him the longest, and it actually seems possible that we might get an actual romantic scene with him in the next book.
Here’s my theory. I think that when JKR was writing Goblet of Fire, and it came time to introduce the real Mad-Eye Moody - imprisoned in the bottom of his own trunk, weak, down a leg and an eye - something clicked. Because that is someone who is both entirely masculine, and entirely safe, and that makes him the perfect romantic figure. And I absolutely think she grabbed that archetype when it came to writing Cormoran Strike.
Basically, this character just is Mad-Eye Moody, only 15(ish) years younger, and non-magical. Strike is an ex-military cop who now freelances. He’s older than his love interest, he’s been around the block a few times. He’s gruff, but careful and kind, world-weary and grizzled, extremely capable, principled, tough, and just sort of hyper aware of what’s going on around him. He is also a bigger guy with some access weight who is not “conventionally attractive” - and for JKR this is a feature, not a bug. If your female character is into someone who is not *~*~handsome~*~* that means they’re cool, deep, not like other girls. Viktor Krum is not conventionally attractive, and (after the werewolf attack) neither is Bill. In fact “he now bore a distinct resemblance to Mad-Eye Moody.” JKR likes Mad-Eye Moody.
And you better believe that Cormoran Strike has a broken nose and a missing leg, just like Mad-Eye Moody. Strike’s prosthetic leg comes up a *lot.* I think it’s telling that the loving interaction we see between Bill and Fleur is her physically supporting him at Dumbledore's funeral post werewolf attack, and the loving little wrist squeeze we get between Lucius and Narcissa is right before Lucius hands his wand over. Basically, JKR likes someone who is sexy and capable and has a lot of presence, but who you get to take care of, and who… can’t chase you. Doesn’t pose a threat. That's the fantasy.
Sypnosis: Y/N ends up time traveling back to 1926 on accident during a freak event with a Time Machine she found. Unfortunately, due to the laws of time travel, she is now forever stuck there and cannot go back to her original time period. Dumbledore ends up putting her on the the famous Newt Scamander, the famous(and only) Magizoologist. How does he react to that?
P.S. This takes place during Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Newt meets Y/N before the events of the movie and it’s basically just Y/N if she was in the first movie. Y/N is using she/her pronouns and is 16!
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Newt was quite surprised when Dumbledore had told him that he was now in charge of a 16 year old girl from the future to say the least
When Dumbledore first introduced you guys, he was very sky and awkward around you
He’d barley let a word out and most of the time, you’d be the one continuing the conversation with him
Pickett was just silently observing as this random teenager was trying to speak to Newt, trying to figure out her deal
It took a little bit Newt soon started warming up to you, much to your relief
He had taught you all about his creatures and how to take care of them which means that they officially like you now since you’ve been sweet to their mama and taking care of them
I’d say that’s a win win in my book
He found the way you dressed when he first met you kinda weird but obviously you had to change your style since you didn’t wanna get caught
One of the things that definitely confused him the most about you is when you begin speaking in pure brain rot to him and he’s just like
“What?”
Funniest pranks to pull on him is to just randomly start speaking brainrot to him outta nowhere and just watch his reaction
Sometimes you make fun of his British accent when he talks which he finds it weird but never says anything about it
Teddy loooooves stealing your necklace that you made with the pop tabs you took from all the cans of soda and energy drinks you’ve drank thanks to school
Newt has to always force Teddy to give it back to you and makes sure that none of the pop tabs are missing from it
You two have gotten so close over the past few months that you began to see him almost like a father to you since he took care of you and such
You had ended up going with him to New York to help him free Frank since he didn’t want you to be left alone back in Britain
You also just wanted to simply say goodbye to Frank and watch him be free
What was supposed to be a simple trip and back turned into a mess when a man by the name of Jacob accidentally takes Newts case and let’s all of his creatures out
Although the only good think that came out of that was meeting Tina
It’s gets even worse when an obscurus comes into play and now it’s going around and killing a person and destroying buildings
Newt is slowly starting to regret bringing you along for the ride since you’ve never felt with an Obscurus before and you had no magic
Now Newt, you, Jacob, and Tina are on a mission to find the missing creatures and return them safely to Newts suitcase
Not before making a quick pit stop though
Now you met Queenie
And by the looks of it, the longer we were there the more obvious her and Jacob became with their pretty obvious liking towards one another
Newt highly discourages you getting involved with them since based on all the times you’ve ranted to him about your love life, your definitely not one to give relationship advice
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That’s it for this part, I might make a part two seeing as though I didn’t get quite through the first movie very well yet. Two posts in one day is definitely a personal best. Let me know if you guys do want a part 2!! ^^
