
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12238902.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Fantastic_Beasts_and_Where_to_Find_Them_(Movies), The_Thinning_(2016)
  Relationship:
      Original_Percival_Graves/Newt_Scamander, Credence_Barebone/Original
      Percival_Graves, Credence_Barebone/Newt_Scamander, Credence_Barebone/
      Gellert_Grindelwald, Credence_Barebone/Original_Percival_Graves/Newt
      Scamander
  Character:
      Credence_Barebone, Chastity_Barebone, Mary_Lou_Barebone_(mentioned), Newt
      Scamander, Original_Percival_Graves, Gellert_Grindelwald, Queenie
      Goldstein, Jacob_Kowalski, Theseus_Scamander
  Additional Tags:
      Consensual_Underage_Sex, Implied/Referenced_Underage_Sex, Implied/
      Referenced_Rape/Non-con, (only_between_Credence_and_Grindelwald), Angst
      and_Porn, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Implied/Referenced_Character_Death, (but_not
      really), Credence_Barebone_Needs_a_Hug, Sad_Credence_Barebone, Depressed
      Newt, Protective_Original_Percival_Graves, Original_Percival_Graves_Needs
      a_Hug, Threats_of_Violence, I_Can't_Believe_I_Wrote_This, you_know_what
      they_say, sequels_are_always_worse_than_the_original, kudos_and_comments
      appreciated, Credence_goes_under_a_different_name_for_a_majority_of_the
      fic, The_Thinning_AU
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Thinning_AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-01 Updated: 2018-01-02 Chapters: 13/? Words: 97225
****** A Sounder of Swine ******
by FMB
Summary
     Strongly recommended that you read The Thinning first, or else this
     will start off confusing and end even more confusing.
     Immediately following Credence's 10-241 failure and subsequent death,
     Newt must learn to conform to America's culling system, though he
     seriously struggles to. Percival, an experienced and well-practiced
     conformist, tries his best to guide Newt through his grief.
Notes
     Please read The Thinning before continuing with this fic. This will
     make a lot more sense if you begin with that. If you start here, not
     only will you spoil the first fic, but it will most likely be a
     confusing maelstrom of world-building and angst.
     Going to go chaptered because I'm 70 pages in and I know no one but
     me would actually want to sit down and read a 50k fic in one sitting.
     Plus, chapters will probably make it easier to find where you left
     off, or so I'm told.
     Good luck, buds.
***** The Aftermath *****
The floor was shaking. A low, mechanical groan echoing. It smelled like sweat.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Bodies were piled up on one another. It was hot and damp and uncomfortable.
Someone underneath began to shift, making the rest of them grumble.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“It's time to get up.” Came a harsh voice, striking against the metal cage they
were in until they were all awake and alert, looking around in confusion.
Weakly, they began to push themselves up onto their feet. Some wobbled and
knocked into each other, a few others merely clung to the cage bars for
support.
“Get a move on, swine,” A cruel voice commanded, herding seventeen from the
cage and onto an elevated walkway made of metal, the rigged edges pressing hard
against their feet.
They were stripped once again, hosed down in freezing cold water, went through
horribly intimate and humiliating body searches, and then, naked, they were
filed into a large room, at least four stories tall and endlessly wide. In
long, neat, unbroken rows were tables. Behind those tables were others like
them. The Failures.
They were marched through the building, walking in a straight line between the
tables, each one of them taking this humiliating walk differently. Some cried.
Others kept their chins up. The rest were merely confused, thinking to
themselves that this definitely wasn't Heaven or Hell. The Failures behind the
tables briefly watched them pass, but they didn't gape for long. They had work
to do, and when one of them delayed even a few seconds, a soldier walked up to
her table and rapped his nightstick on her table, making her shriek and speed
up.
“Evan Stevenson, suitable” A soldier remarked as he walked down the line of
naked teenagers, her eyes not lingering on any of them, “Delilah Stone,
suitable. Christian Mellark...” She paused, looking over the student once
again, and with a slight hum, she scribbled down a note before saying, “Banged
up, but suitable.” She continued down, “Christine Baker, suitable. Donna
Farfield, suitable. Credence Barebone,” She stopped once again, looking at him
twice, frowning impatiently. “Damaged.”
Everyone but Credence was lead forward. Credence was kept where he was, nude,
cold, afraid, and surrounded by armed soldiers. He barely lifted his head, his
arms crossed over his chest, waiting for something to happen. He wasn't left
waiting for long when the sound of heavy boots on the metal floor began echoing
through the room. He didn't turn around. Somehow, he already knew what was
coming for him.
“We meet again,” His cold voice echoed in the halls, the workers at the tables
behind them barely glancing up, “Credence Barebone. Ilvermorny's failure that
almost got away. It's so... satisfying to see you here.” Hands grasped Credence
by his waist, eliciting a gasp from the boy, and they slowly made his way up
his ribs. When a hot breath fanned over Credence's neck, he merely squeezed his
eyes shut. “It was supposed to be your little boyfriend down here, working away
the rest of his life like a slave, four hours of sleep a day, two meager meals,
no rest until he died... But this... this is even better.” A slow kiss on his
skin, making Credence cringe away, and he whispered darkly, “Nobody is going to
look for you. You are mine.”
Far below ground, Credence was lead in a different direction from the others.
The soldiers still followed him, but Grindelwald was leading them forward. He
walked with a purpose while Credence shuffled along, being forced forward by
the officers when he fell too far behind. When the rows of tables and workers
were left behind them, Credence finally felt the courage to ask, “Where am I?”
“Doesn't matter, does it?” Grindelwald replied casually, “To the rest of the
world, you're dead. This might as well be your Hell.” He turned, then, smoothly
walking backward, and he said with a smirk, “Or your Heaven, depending on how
you play your cards.”
He faced forward again, picking up his pace a bit, and Credence grunted as he
was forced to keep up. They went up a series of metal stairs, the jagged teeth
digging into the bottom of his feet, and soon entered a dimly lit hallway with
reinforced metal doors dotting along them. Grindelwald continued to walk,
however, only pausing in front of the very last door at the end of the hallway.
Shucking off his glove, Grindelwald pressed his thumb against a sensor beside
the door. Credence watched with a frown as the scanner followed his thumbprint,
illuminating it for only a moment, then beeped in recognition. The door began
to open itself, sliding into the wall with a grating noise, and Grindelwald
slowly pulled his glove back on.
As soon as the door was open, Grindelwald stepped inside, and the guards only
pushed Credence in after him, though none of them followed. Credence staggered
forward with a gasp, dropping to his knees with a wince, then flinched when the
door slid back shut. From inside the room, Credence could see the locking
mechanism within the door slide into place.
Knowing he was locked inside, Credence slowly took in his surroundings. He
seemed to be in an apartment, the floor wood instead of metal, comfortable
furniture in place, a kitchenette and a hallway across the way. He could see a
sliver of a bedroom at the end of it, but that was all. Grindelwald had
strutted across the room, making himself comfortable on the armchair facing
Credence.
“Let's discuss something, Credence.” Grindelwald said, lifting his brows,
“Please, come have a seat.” He gestured openly to the couch across from him.
Credence glanced towards it hesitantly, but he got to his feet and slowly
stepped towards the couch. He regarded the soft-looking fabric with a frown,
wondered if it would really be okay to sit when he was still nude, but he did
so anyway. Still, he remained stiff as stone and ready to spring to his feet at
a moment's notice. Grindelwald watched him the entire time, a small smirk on
his lips. “Comfortable?”
Credence ducked his head but hesitantly nodded. He didn't know where he was or
why he was here instead of dead, but he figured if he was going to be stuck
here, he might as well remain on Grindelwald's good side. “Th-thank you, sir.”
Credence whispered in a rough voice. Grindelwald's smile widened.
“I understand you must be very confused,” Grindelwald began, leaning back
comfortably in his armchair, “You're probably wondering why you aren't dead
right now. Why none of you are. The simple answer is: It's not your business to
know. You're alive, that's all that matters. You better be grateful for it.”
Crossing his legs, Grindelwald continued to say, “I bet you're also wondering
why you weren't taken with the rest of those failures. Why you were deemed
'damaged.' And that's simply because I wanted you alone. All 'damaged' goods I
see to personally for review. If they are redeemable, we help them recuperate.
If not... well, we have to feed the mouths down here one way or another.”
Credence clenched his jaw tight, and Grindelwald grinned, feral.
“But you were marked 'damaged' for a different reason. Damaged goods are often
placed in special positions down here. Janitorial crew, test subjects, freight,
things that we wouldn't want to waste our more capable sacrifices on. And as a
damaged good, I get to decide exactly what position will be best for you.”
Credence cringed, already trying to guess what Grindelwald wanted to do with
him. Maybe he'd put him on the janitorial crew just because he could, just
because Credence was no better than the scum he cleaned. He didn't utter a word
about it, though. There was no way he was going to influence this man to change
his decision.
“But I've decided to be kind,” Grindelwald stated, and Credence glanced up at
him again, curious. The shit-eating grin on his face wasn't reassuring at all.
“I'll give you a choice. You can either agree to be my personal assistant,
which means you will be at my side at all times, obey my command, and be
treated like a little doll in this horrible inescapable prison... or you can be
a part of the... entertainment crew.”
Credence furrowed his brows, a silent question that Grindelwald was all too
eager to answer. “My soldiers need a little downtime every once-in-a-while.
What better way than to offer a piece of flesh for them to take their anger out
on?”
Credence shuddered, suddenly feeling sick. So much for a choice, he thought.
All this was was an attempt at giving Credence the illusion of freedom, the
illusion of choosing his own fate. It really wasn't a question, it was a
demand. A threat. And Credence was expected to choose the right one.
But Credence was stupid. He had to earn his free passes for a reason. And, like
any other Failure down here, he hoped that there was another way. “C-Can't I
work like the others? At the... tables?”
Grindelwald sighed, looking annoyed, and he simply said, “Such a position can
only be filled by those who are not damaged.”
“But you said--”
“I gave you two choices, Credence. Don't make me decide for you.” Grindelwald
growled, and Credence glanced up at him briefly before looking back down at his
naked thighs. He thought about it quietly, trying to figure out what would be
best; being the personal and willing partner to probably the worst man he's
ever met, or suffer the abuse of more than a hundred adrenaline-driven soldiers
prone to violence. Both ways, he would be unfaithful to his lovers... but he
figured that doesn't matter anymore. Wherever he was, he was gone from them. To
whoever remained, he was dead. And if he were no longer alive, then why should
he make himself suffer for his lovers' benefit.
He had already whored himself out to a man to stay alive. Even if he thought it
was love at one point... it would be no different from surviving down here. And
maybe... maybe he could learn to love again.
Nervously, Credence peered up at Grindelwald, sitting across from him regally,
legs crossed and back straight, eyes gazing down at him like he were a king and
Credence merely a waif. He would have to learn what this man liked, what made
him tick. He had to learn how to control him by giving him control. He would
survive down here no matter what. He would survive and he will figure out how
to escape, if it was even possible.
Taking a deep breath, Credence whispered, “I-I can be your... your assistant,
sir. If... If you'll let me, sir.”
Grindelwald looked like he might as well have won the lottery. Credence didn't
understand why. Didn't he know Credence would prefer to be raped by one man
instead of hundreds?
It wasn't rape, he thought to himself. He would enjoy it. He would be happy
with it. He will learn to love him just like he had with Percival. He closed
his eyes, feeling them burn. He would have to stop thinking about Percival
first.
“You've made the right choice,” Grindelwald assured him, getting up from his
seat, “Come. Let's get you dressed.”
Credence let out a breath, then got to his feet and followed after him,
desperate to be clothed once again.
He followed Grindelwald across the room, down the narrow hall, and into his
bedroom. The bed was large, could comfortably fit the two of them, and the
décor was rich but tasteful. Grindelwald went to a double door to their right,
opening it up to expose a walk-in closet. If all of these outfits were
Grindelwald's, then Credence was certain he wouldn't fit in any of them.
But instead of rifling through his many suits and coats, he went straight to
the back where a wooden trunk sat, pulling it open and reaching inside.
Credence waited a few steps behind him. He didn't want to crowd Grindelwald,
not when he wasn't used to his patterns yet. Plus, he wasn't even sure if
Grindelwald would want Credence to cling to him like an infirm child. He kept
his hands down, covering his indecency, and flinched when Grindelwald suddenly
turned around. He was holding out a few folded pieces of clothing, urging
Credence with a calm, “Get dressed. Quickly.”
“Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Credence rattled off, taking the clothes from the
man and immediately unraveling them. The soft, black flannel pants were loose
on his legs, but the drawstrings tightened the waistline to his hips so they
wouldn't fall. They were smooth and breezy like sleep pants, easy to remove,
Credence figured. The long-sleeved shirt was also black, but much thinner. When
Credence slipped it on, he realized with a shock that the material was nearly
see-through, translucent enough to show off the shape of his body, even under
the baggy material. Luckily, the details of his body were still hidden, but
Credence figured that a shirt like this would do nothing to deflect
Grindelwald's touch.
When Credence turned around, he saw Grindelwald was watching him. His breath
caught in his throat and he quickly ducked his head, standing rigidly. He
didn't move until Grindelwald was pushing something against his chest. Reaching
up, Credence slowly took the black leather boots and ankle-high socks from him,
blinking in surprise. He glanced up at Grindelwald to be sure, but the man
didn't offer him any reassurance. Even slower, Credence lowered himself to the
floor, then slowly pulled on the socks and shoes. He was surprised to find that
the boots fit, and once they were tied, he got back up.
“And finally,” Grindelwald said calmly, pulling out armor akin to that of the
soldiers and the campus officers. There thick shoulder pads, a bullet-proof
vest, and Kevlar gloves. He pulled the gloves on first, then the vest, then the
shoulder pads, and immediately felt bulky and ridiculous. He was immensely
skinny, not at all physically thick with muscle like the other soldiers.
Grindelwald seemed to think the same thing because a moment later, he was
humming in distaste.
“This will work for now.” He decided with a sigh, closing the trunk behind him,
“I'd want you to be dressed differently from the rest of my men, anyways. Just
so I can pick you out easier.”
Credence didn't understand, not really. If he was supposed to be Grindelwald's
assistant, why would he be wearing armor? It would just make it easier for
Credence to fight him off. He glanced at Grindelwald as the man stepped around
him, deciding to just keep quiet about it. His opinion didn't matter, and even
if it did, he didn't want to point out any flaws to Grindelwald. Anything that
would keep him a layer of clothing away, the better.
“Come along, Credence. There is much for you to learn.” Grindelwald declared,
and Credence hurried after him, making sure he remained a few steps behind.
They exited Grindelwald's apartment, the door locking behind them and the DNA
scanner glowing red. Credence frowned the slightest bit at the sight, but
turned his head forward and resumed walking. As they walked down the hall,
Grindelwald began to speak, “As my assistant, I will expect many things from
you. If you do not perform to my expectations, you will be punished. I expect
you to carry out my every command, my wishes, my desires. Everything you do or
say will be an extension of me. That being said...”
Grindelwald paused at the very top of the staircase leading down to the work
halls, and looked directly at Credence, “If you ever embarrass me,
intentionally or not, I will make sure you regret it. Do you understand?”
Credence nodded stiffly, but when Grindelwald didn't seem pleased, he said in a
hoarse voice, “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Grindelwald murmured, turning back around, “Come.”
They continued down the steps quickly, Grindelwald walking down them with grace
while Credence clung to the rail, horribly off-balance. They made it to the
bottom with no injuries, however, and Grindelwald began to walk down the line
of workers. Credence looked over them in interest, his brow furrowing when he
realized they were putting together different electronic parts. The further
they walked, the more intricate the pieces became, until Credence came upon the
workers that were putting the pieces together.
At the very end of the room, a row of younger Failures were putting the
finished tablets into styrofoam boxes, sealing them up with the company logo
for Assuru Global.
That was the very same company that manufactured the tablets used specifically
for the 10-241.
Credence gasped when Grindelwald called for him to hurry up, and he quickly
pushed the thought out of his mind. Picking up the pace, they left the work
hall and entered a different room, sanctioned off by a large metal door. This
one was opened by a key card similar to those the school faculty used.
They stepped inside just as the doors slid open, Credence right behind, but the
boy staggered to a stop when he saw what was happening.
This room must have been for onboarding new Failures, for the remaining sixteen
students chosen for the Thinning from Credence's school were standing in a
line, dressed in thick, shapeless white smocks like the rest of the workers,
and being branded with the Assuru logo, an open hand with a lower case 'a' in
the center. The brand was pressed into their wrist, and each one of them cried
out in pain as it was applied. Grindelwald walked forward, supervising their
progress. Credence could only stumble towards him, his eyes glued to the
students he only vaguely remembered. As he went, a few of the students glanced
up, their eyes wet and faces twisted in pain, until one of them recognized him.
“Hey... Hey!” The boy shouted, Evan, if he recalled correctly. Evan launched
forward, grabbing Credence by the straps of his bullet-proof vest tightly, and
yelling, “What the fuck is this?! He was damaged! How was he made into a
soldier if he was damaged?!”
Credence didn't respond, his eyes wide and his body stiff. Grindelwald took a
step closer, his eyes narrowing, but he didn't immediately do anything.
Instead, he made a gesture to one of the nearby soldiers, who nodded briefly
and slowly pulled out a taser.
“This is bullshit!” Evan shouted, pushing Credence roughly, shaking the boy
down until Credence was whimpering.
“S-sir!” He yelped, looking to Grindelwald for help. He saw the man smirk, saw
his eyes glint in sadistic pleasure, and then Evan went absolutely rigid. A
sick, gurgling noise came from his mouth, his body seizing. Credence watched in
horror as Evan's eyes went wide right in front of him, then rolled back into
his head. He watched as the soldier filled Evan's body with fifty thousand
volts for what felt like minutes, but was only about five seconds. When the
soldier pulled back, Evan collapsed to the ground, his fingers slipping from
Credence's vest.
“Hm.” Grindelwald was behind Credence, looking over his shoulder at the
Failure, before he looked up to the soldier who had tased him, “Lobotomize
him.”
“Wh—what?” Credence gasped, looking back at Grindelwald, then spinning around
as the soldier tossed Evan over his shoulder and carried him away, “No! Wait!”
He was about to launch himself forward, try to stop the soldier carrying Evan,
but a hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could even lurch. He turned
back to Grindelwald, terrified of his man, and before Grindelwald could say
anything, Credence stated, “Lobotomy has been prohibited, sir. Th-there is no
good reason to perform such a procedure. It—It would render him useless to
you.”
Grindelwald lifted a brow, held up a hand, and the soldier holding Evan paused.
“Explain,” He bid Credence, staring down at the boy. Credence licked his lips
anxiously, lowered his head, and felt himself grow nervous.
“I—I don't....” He stopped. He couldn't be like this if he wanted to save Evan
from a life-changing surgery. He had to be certain of himself, of his
knowledge, even though, deep down, he knew he was a stupid young man. Sucking
in a long breath, Credence closed his eyes and tried to focus on what he
remembered about it.
Looking up at Grindelwald again, Credence recited, “A lobotomy will sever the
connection to the prefrontal cortex--”
“I know how it works,” Grindelwald sneered, but Credence only pressed on,
raising his voice a bit.
“--which is responsible for coordination, impulse control, focus, and
prioritizing tasks.” Credence finished, but Grindelwald still seemed
unimpressed.
“It will also affect his boorish personality. We can't have some self-righteous
boy raising hell in the factory.” Grindelwald huffed, lifting a hand and about
to wave the soldier away, but Credence's own hand shot out and grabbed him by
the wrist.
“F-from what I've seen, you need your workers to be able to focus and
prioritize. You need them to have coordination, attention to detail. Even if
you put him on the packing line, production will suffer.” Credence stated, and
Grindelwald gave him a wild look.
“If you think you're so smart, then what would you do with this swine?”
Credence hesitated, his brows furrowing, and he looked away as he thought about
it. Grindelwald waited for only a few moments before he tore his hand away from
Credence's and gestured for the soldier to continue forward. Credence looked
back at them, at Evan hanging unconscious over the soldier's shoulder, and he
felt his heart pound. He couldn't save him. He couldn't stop the procedure.
Evan would be changed, set up to fail, and then killed just because he lashed
out once.
Just because he wanted to be a soldier.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Credence turned back to Grindelwald and said, “Make
him a soldier.”
“Excuse me?” Grindelwald sneered, and although he didn't signal for it, the
soldier carrying Evan paused and turned back around.
“He wants to be a soldier. He has the temperament of a soldier. He can fight
like a soldier. Make him a soldier.” Credence said again, keeping his eyes on
Grindelwald's chin.
The man shifted. He looked shocked, as if he couldn't believe what Credence was
asking of him, and slowly he asked, “Do you even know what it takes to be a
soldier, boy?”
This time, Credence glanced up, meeting Grindelwald's mismatched eyes for a
tense moment, and replied quietly, “I don't, because I don't have what it
takes, and yet here I am.”
Grindelwald scowled at him, his face twisting in embarrassed rage, and in a
cold voice, he muttered, “You are just asking for a world of pain, boy.”
“Then hurt me, and leave Evan alone.” Credence requested, lowering his gaze
again, “Put him in the factory, make him do packing, make him a soldier, just
don't lobotomize him. It isn't worth it.”
A long, pained sigh came from the older man. Grindelwald turned away from
Credence, took a few thoughtful steps, then waved his hand in a dismissive
gesture, “Fine. Fine. Leave the swine here.”
The soldier didn't even attempt to put Evan down gently. They merely let the
boy drop onto the metal floor, the room echoing the heavy thunk his body made.
“When he wakes, send him to waste management. A few months in the sewers should
straighten him out.”
The soldier saluted, then went back to the remaining fifteen students. They had
all been branded, all been dressed, and now they were being led out of the
room, back towards the factory. Credence watched them go, his brows furrowing,
and he wondered fleetingly if they would ever see the light of day again. If he
would ever see the light of day again.
He came back to his surroundings when Grindelwald put his hands on his
shoulders and said, “Credence. You're a doll.” He squeezed the boy's shoulders,
and then his voice dropped darkly, “But that's all you are, boy. A doll. A toy.
A pretty thing to look at and touch, to flaunt in front of others. You are not
smart. We both know this. So don't pretend like you know anything. Do you
understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Credence replied quietly, keeping his head down, focused on their
shoes.
“Backtalk to me again in front of my men and I'll turn you into my own personal
bitch. Do you hear me?” Grindelwald threatened, and Credence swallowed shakily
before he nodded.
“Y-yes. Yes, sir.” He whispered, his voice barely even there, but it was enough
for Grindelwald to hear. The man nodded once, then let go of Credence and
cleared his throat.
“Let's move on,” He declared, walking in the opposite direction of the factory,
pushing open double-doors to step into a new room. Credence had to rush to keep
up.
It took two hours just for Grindelwald to show Credence the place, and Credence
was horrified by how large this space was. He had never heard of a sweatshop
for Assuru Global, had never even thought of it being a possibility. Such
things—sweatshops—were barbaric, and thought to have been lost long ago in the
past. And the place, spanning over 4.3 million square feet, was every horrible
thing Credence could think of smashed together in one spot.
While the guards roomed in lavish bunks fitted with separate plumbing and a
grand canteen, and the more important people such as Grindelwald resided in
their very own apartments within the place, the Failures, or Swine as
Grindelwald had taken to calling them, switched out in shifts of sixteen hours.
They rotated throughout the factory, working their entire shift with only a
twenty-minute pause for a meager meal, then would be allowed to rest for four
hours afterward. The final hour was their recreational time, but it seemed like
most simply used it for more sleep. They slept like they worked, squeezed
together in a large hall, lined with thin mattresses and even thinner sheets.
They piled together for warmth, the smell of sweat and despair lingering in the
air. They had sixteen toilets. Each one of them was a hole dug into the ground,
connected to a runoff where their waste would spill into the sewers.
And then Grindelwald brought him to the recreation area. Filling this room were
men and women of various sizes, shapes, and ages, all nude, sitting in lavish
couches and tempting Grindelwald and Credence with fluttering lashes and sultry
gazes. Credence was baffled, not at all interested to investigate this room
further until he realized that, running around this room in a similar state of
undress, were children.
Even though he knew Grindelwald would be mad at him for it, Credence had to
turn and leave this room as quickly as possible. He thought he was going to be
sick. Did the men and women here really...?
Grindelwald followed him soon after, amusement on his damned face, and Credence
never felt so much hatred for one man in his entire life. This place, these
rooms, they were all chambers of torture and death. The soldiers were the
devils and the demons, rattling the chains and spearing their horns into the
Swine, the helpless victims who were only there because they hadn't been smart
enough.
It would have been better if they had just died like they were supposed to.
“It's a bit much to take in, I understand,” Grindelwald tried to sound
comforting, but Credence only gagged a second time, “You'll get used to this
place in no time, boy. And I'm certain that soon enough, you'll be enjoying the
recreational room from time to time.”
Never, Credence wanted to say, to shout, but he merely pressed his lips into a
line and squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing back the words and the bile until
his throat burned. He would survive this. He had to survive this. He just had
to stay on Grindelwald's good side...
If the man even had one.
“I—I wouldn't dare think of being with anyone but you, sir,” Credence
whispered, knowing once upon a time that such words would be stirring
Percival's blood and loins, would be the start of a fun afternoon, maybe
something he'd whisper to the man early in the morning had they actually lived
together. And now, he was using it to get Grindelwald's mind off of the horrors
and onto him. Focus more on him, and he believed this place could be just a
little bit better off.
He felt a hand slide into place on the back of his neck, and Credence went
stiff. A hot breath soon followed, following the edge of his ear, and
Grindelwald whispered heatedly, “If you ever betray me, you will merely be
another addition to that salacious room.”
Letting go of his neck, Grindelwald moved on, going from sadistic monster to
casual so fast it made Credence's head spin. As he walked, Credence forced
himself to pull it together, then quickly followed after him.
On the surface, long after the sun had risen and the day had begun, Percival
snorted himself awake. He jolted forward from where he sat in his armchair,
feeling dried spit trailing from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. His head
pounded and his vision swam. His stomach felt like it was doing flips inside of
him, and he thought for a moment that he might actually vomit.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, groaning. He drank too much last night. He knew
why; there was no pretending that he didn't. He drank himself unconscious
because of the Thinning. Graduation was today, and he felt like he wasn't ever
going to be ready for it. He wasn't exactly required to be there, but Seraphina
would definitely wonder where he had been.
His phone chimed somewhere to his left. He checked the table, the floor, and
then realized it had fallen between the chair cushion, so he dug it out with a
grunt. Checking his notifications, he groaned when he saw he had eighteen
missed calls, thirty-six text messages, and five voicemails. He immediately
cringed when he saw they were all from Theseus. He must have been talking to
him last night.
He opened up the text messages first, scrolling all the way to the top to see
where the conversation began, and immediately huffed in embarrassment.
                                                                  Wyd :You
     Scamander: Trying to get Newt to eat.
     Scamander: He isn't taking today well.
     Scamander: I think he's real shaken up
     from almost being failed.
                                                   Let me talk t hjim :You
     Scamander: U sure?
     Scamander: I was under the impression
     the two of you weren't the
     best of friends
     There was a ten minute gap, wherein Percival must have given him a
     call. He couldn't for the life of him remember what he said, but from
     the following messages, it couldn't have been good.
     Scamander: wtf did u say to my brother
     Scamander: He's crying again!!!
     Scamander: He's not even talking to me wtf!!!!
     Scamander: Percival u tell me what u just said!
                                                   Gimmw newts number :You
     Scamander: Fuck no I wont!!! Wtf!!!!!!!
     Scamander: Stop calling!!!
                                                  Let me talk to newt :You
     Scamander: u RIGHT PIG WHAT DID
     U DO
     Scamander: stop
     Scamander: calling
     Scamander: ur not talking to him agin!!
The rest of the messages were just variants of Theseus yelling at him. He
decided the next best idea would be to check his voicemail. The first one made
him jolt with how loud Theseus was yelling. It was hardly even intelligible.
Percival deleted it and moved on.
“I swear to God, Percival, if you ever lay your filthy fuckin' hands on my
brother again I'll kill you!” Theseus shouted, and Percival figured he must
have told Theseus about their not-so-professional relationship. Graves sighed
and deleted that message as well, moving on.
This time, Theseus was whispering angrily, as if he didn't want Newt to hear,
“You ever show your face around me again and I will tear your eyes out, bloody
pervert. Don't ever speak to me again!”
Deleted. Moved on.
“And another thing!” Theseus spat, as if he had just hung up and redialed him,
“Consider any debt I owe you for saving Newt from the Thinning null and void.
Burn in Hell.”
Percival tilted his head back, putting his phone down for a minute. He wasn't
even sure if he wanted to listen to the last message. He didn't want to know
what else Theseus had to say about his and Newt's relationship. As far as he
knew, he not only lost both of his lovers, but he lost one of his best friends
as well. It was a terrible day. He didn't want to go to Graduation at all.
Scowling at his phone, Percival decided to move on to the last message.
Whatever it was, he deserved it.
He took a deep breath, kept his eyes closed, and pressed the phone back to his
ear as he started the message.
“Mr. Graves?” A small voice whispered, and Percival let out his breath in
relief, his eyes popping open. He could already imagine sweet Newt sneaking
into Theseus' bedroom late at night and stealing his phone away, just so he
could call him. “I'm sorry about Theseus... He doesn't understand... And... And
I'm sorry about C-Credence...” Newt sucked in a shaking breath, his voice
cracking as he said, “I-It's all my f-fault... And I'm so sorry. Please...
please, please forgive me.”
Another shaking breath, and Newt all but sobbed out, “I d-don't want to be
alone r-right now... I w-wish I was with you instead... I wish Credence
didn't...” Another sob, and Percival felt his heart breaking.
Finally, the message ended with Newt mumbling, “Please just... call me. Text
me. I don't think I want to go to Graduation. I'll be... I'll be at home. B-
bye.”
Graves bit his lip, peered back down at the number on his phone. It was
Theseus'. And all the messages he had were from Theseus. Maybe Newt changed his
mind.
Furrowing his brow and deciding to risk it, he dialed Theseus' number and held
it to his ear as it rang. It went by once, twice, and nearly a third before it
was picked up.
“H-hello?” Newt's nervous, melancholic voice asked through the speaker, and
Percival breathed in relief.
“Newt,” He muttered, hearing the boy mirror his sigh on the other end, “Are you
alone?”
“Yeah. Theseus left early to set up.” Newt answered, “He still doesn't know I
have his phone.”
“Good. That's good...” Percival paused, trying to think of what he should do,
what the right thing would be. He knew Newt needed comfort first, so he decided
to tell him, “What happened to Credence isn't your fault.”
Newt didn't reply to that, but his shaky breathing told Percival he was still
on the other end of the phone. Percival closed his eyes, cursing himself in his
head. All the things he could say, and he messes it up.
Finally, after what felt like forever, Newt said, “I don't want to be alone
this summer.”
“I thought you lived with Theseus?” Percival asked, and Newt sighed.
“But I don't want to be alone with him. He doesn't understand. Doesn't know
what it feels like.” Newt explained slowly, and Percival figured he understood.
Getting through this grief was hell alone. It should at least be bearable with
someone else with him.
Running his hand over his face, Percival agreed in a low voice, “I don't think
I want to be alone either.”
Newt sucked in a shaky breath, obviously building up his confidence to ask, but
before he could even get the words out, Percival said to him, “Put your things
together. Give me a few minutes to... clean myself up. I'll be there shortly.”
Newt huffed in relief, happy that he didn't have to actually ask, and he
whispered, “Okay. I'll be waiting.”
They hung up shortly afterward. Percival got himself up from the chair and went
to take a shower, hoping to wash away last night's shame. He picked up his mess
afterward, giving Newt ample time to get everything he needed, and then got in
his car and headed for Theseus' apartment complex. The ride was long, taking
about forty-five minutes for Percival to arrive at the place, but he didn't
really mind the drive. Staying focused on the road with a plan to see Newt in
mind kept the darker thoughts at bay.
As he climbed the stairs to the third floor, he wondered what Theseus might
think to come home and find his little brother missing. He'd probably come
straight to Percival's house and demand Newt return. Percival decided that he
wouldn't try to dissuade or avoid him. This was his brother, after all. Even if
he was upset with them, he would have to respect Newt's choices. And right now,
Newt's choice was Percival.
He rapped on the door smartly, waited only a minute, and then the door was
swinging open. There Newt stood, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, his nose red
and raw, and a simple backpack on his back. He stepped out of the house and
closed the door behind him, peeking up at Percival nervously before saying,
“Thank you... for letting me stay with you.”
Percival peeked at his bag, concerned with how little he was bringing, but he
figured he could easily buy anything he forgot.
“It's my pleasure,” Percival told him, putting a hand on the back of his neck
and getting Newt to look at him, “You sure you got everything you need?”
“Yes.” Newt replied, relaxing under Percival's hand and letting his eyes close
for a moment, obviously tired, “I left Theseus a note.”
Percival chuckled a little, squeezing the back of his neck just for a moment,
then pulled away, “I doubt that'll do much to sway him, but at least he won't
worry.”
Newt sighed, grimacing more than smiling, and he followed Percival down the
stairway and towards his car.
As soon as they got in, Newt asked nervously, “You really don't mind?”
“Mind what?” Percival asked, turning the car on and getting on the road, intent
on getting home as fast as possible. Even though the hot shower he took did a
lot for his head and nausea, the light was still just a bit too bright.
“Letting me stay with you for the summer,” Newt explained, and this time,
Percival gave him a bewildered look.
“What?”
Newt flushed, looking panicked, and he stuttered, “Y-you said I could stay the
summer, didn't you?”
Percival's brow furrowed, thinking back to their conversation over the phone,
and admitted weakly, “Sorry, I... I thought you were...” He shook his head,
cleared his throat, then said, “Right. Just the summer.”
Newt blinked, staring at Percival openly, and in a small voice, he asked, “Are
you... okay with that? Keeping me for the summer?”
“Of course, Newt.” Percival said quickly, glancing his way, “What do you plan
to do afterward?”
Newt sighed loudly, admitting, “I don't know anymore... I've always wanted to
do something with animals. Be a veterinarian, maybe. But Theseus always said it
wasn't a well-paying job. Said I would do better in a STEM field.”
Percival snorted at that, muttering, “Of course he would. He was an engineer of
some sort back in England, wasn't he? He probably wants to see his precious
little brother follow in his footsteps.”
Newt smiled grimly, as amused as he could be the day after their partner's
death, and he asked, “Well, that's what he wants. What would you want me to do
after?”
Percival pursed his lips, thinking about it for a long moment, then admitted,
“I don't think I very much care... so long as you're still with me after.”
Newt fell silent. Percival deigned not to look at him. They drove along in
silence for a few long minutes. Percival could hear Newt breathing beside him.
His nose was stuffy, Percival noted.
When they got onto the highway, Newt shifted in his seat, then said wistfully,
“Maybe I will become a veterinarian... I think the university nearby has a good
program.” He shuffled his feet, getting nervous, and added, “And maybe... I
won't have to worry about rooming there.”
Percival glanced his way, surprised, but he couldn't help the warmth that
bloomed in his cold, broken heart. Reaching across the console of the car,
Percival put his hand over Newt's knee and squeezed. He felt Newt's warm hand
layer overtop his.
“Whatever you like, so long as you're still with me.” Percival hummed, stroking
his thumb against Newt's knee. He knew it would be hard. Theseus might not
support them from the beginning, but Percival was certain he would come around.
And until then, Percival would do all he can to support his boy.
“What will you do after?” Newt asked a few minutes later, peeking up at
Percival. The man merely shrugged.
“What I've been doing so far.” Percival said with a sigh, “Teaching chemistry
and hoping no more of my students perish.”
Newt frowned at that, squeezing Percival's hand, then asked, “Will you be able
to?”
“Yes,” Percival answered immediately, although the crease between his brows
didn't support that claim. “His death is not the first on my hands.”
Thinking about it, Newt asked hesitantly, “Why shouldn't he be the last, then?”
Percival sighed, looking exhausted at the thought. Newt bit his lip and ducked
his head, muttering a quiet, “Sorry. I won't push it.” And he felt Percival
squeeze his knee once more.
The rest of the ride was silent, save for the passing cars on either side of
them. As Percival pulled into his driveway, Newt stared up at his modern house
in surprise. “This is where you live?” He asked as he stepped out of the car,
pulling his backpack over his shoulder, “It's huge!”
“Hardly,” Percival chuffed, closing and locking his car before approaching the
front door. Newt followed after him, still in awe. “I have two guest rooms that
you can select to make your own.” He pressed his thumb into the center of the
doorknob, letting the DNA scanner validate him. When the door popped open,
Percival muttered, “We'll have to get it to recognize you as well.”
“We can do it later,” Newt hummed, stepping into the house after him, looking
around curiously.
Percival closed the door behind them, then said, “Go choose your bedroom and
make yourself comfortable. I'll make something to eat.”
Newt obeyed without another word, vanishing into the back of the house.
Percival kicked off his shoes and hung his coat in the closet, then went to the
kitchen, intent on putting together at least sandwiches. Even a little bit of
food would do well for his stomach. He took out some vegetables, some cold
meat, and some bread. He put together two beautiful looking ham, lettuce, and
tomato sandwiches, plated them, and peered towards the hallway, wondering what
was keeping Newt. He waited just a few more moments, then decided it would just
be better to take the food to him instead.
Picking up the two plates, Percival headed down the hall. He peered into every
room on his way, making sure he didn't miss the boy, and didn't find Newt until
he entered his own bedroom at the very end of the hall. Newt had dropped his
bag by the door and was sitting on the bed, head ducked and shoulders shaking.
Percival's brow furrowed, and he carefully stepped further inside, making sure
the boy knew he was there.
“Newt,” He said gently, sitting down beside the auburn-haired man, setting the
plate in his lap, “Tell me what you're thinking.”
The boy sniffled, lifting his head enough to show Percival his teary eyes, fat
drops running down his cheeks. “I just keep thinking... if Theseus never told
you about me... if you and Credence didn't like me so much... he would still be
alive.”
“You know that's not true,” Percival remarked, looking concerned, “You had
nothing to do with what happened yesterday.”
“But I do! I'm the only reason why it happened, aren't I? I failed. And in
order to save my life, Credence had to--!” He clenched his jaw, more tears
falling, and ducked his head once more. Percival took in a slow breath, held
it, then scooted closer to him. Picking the plate up once more, he set both of
their meals on the floor by their feet. With that safely out of the way,
Percival crawled further onto the bed, wrapped an arm around Newt's waist, and
pulled on him until they were both lying on their sides, Newt's back pressed
firmly to Percival's chest. Newt let out a painful sob, bringing his knees up
so he was curled in a bit tighter. Percival held him tightly, being his support
as his emotions overcame him, and he carefully whispered gentle reassurances
against the top of his head.
As Newt slowly calmed down from his sorrow, Percival decided to tell his boy
the truth.
“Newt...” He whispered, closing his eyes, “You didn't fail at all. And
Credence... he did fail.”
Newt sniffled, wiping his eyes slowly, then asked in a rough voice, “What do
you mean?”
“Credence hadn't passed the Thinning since elementary school.” Percival
admitted, brows furrowing, “Because his mother is Senator Mary Lou, and she's
been vouching for him year after year.”
Newt was silent. Percival pressed his lips into a line, then continued, “And
when we met... I just had to save him. When his mother gave up on him, I
vouched for him. That's how he was going to get through school.”
Sighing, he ended with a bleak, “But you passed, and still you were chosen for
the Thinning. I never heard of that happening before. Our vouches never
impacted who took their place. And as soon as you were on the chopping block, I
just... had to make it right.”
Newt shuddered in Percival's arms, silently letting the news sink in, and when
he finally gathered the strength to speak, it was but a whisper.
“You chose... me...?” He asked, not even daring to look over his shoulder at
the man holding him so carefully, so tightly, “Over Credence?”
Graves closed his eyes. They both knew the answer was yes. Newt being there, on
Percival's bed, in Percival's arms, being comforted by Percival himself, was
because Percival had indeed decided that Newt's life was worth more than
Credence's. But Percival was selfish and in pain, so instead he said, “I chose
to do what's right over what I wanted.”
Newt blinked, the tears still flowing, although the sobs had dulled to a rare
trembling gasp. “What you wanted was Credence instead of me?” He asked, curling
up even tighter, trying not to let it show how much it hurt just to ask.
“What I wanted was both of you here,” Percival corrected immediately, not even
having to consider it, “In my arms. In my bed. Safe and happy and with me.” He
shook his head, then buried his nose in the back of Newt's head, breathing in
his scent, committing it to memory, “But I couldn't have that. It would either
be you or him. What is morally right or wrong. And no matter what... I believe
I am a good man.”
Newt shifted this time, turning in Percival's arms so he could look at him.
Percival allowed their eyes to meet, and though his heart ached to gaze into
sorrowful blues instead of deep, melancholic black, he didn't let himself
flinch.
“It still hurts... doesn't it?” Newt asked softly. Percival didn't respond with
his voice. He only nodded once, briefly, and Newt let out a breath held tight
in his chest. “It hurts me, too... So badly. I can't imagine...” He blinked,
blue eyes went watery once again, and he sighed, “I'm... so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Percival insisted, closing his eyes once
more and pulling Newt close, tucking his head just underneath his chin, “And
you shouldn't feel guilty for things you have not done.”
Newt breathed warm against his collarbone, sliding his hands first onto
Percival's waist, then around to the small of his back. Percival kept his eyes
shut, but he enjoyed the gentle touch, the warm glide of Newt's hands, and the
reassurance they provided.
“Thank you,” He finally whispered, and Percival felt his heartache, “I... Don't
know if you want to hear it, but... Thank you. For saving me. And...” Newt took
a long breath, held it for a few even longer seconds, and then carefully let it
out as he said, “I forgive you... for Credence. Because I know he would
understand.”
Percival had not dared let a single tear drop in front of Newt up until then.
And even when his emotions were struck and his heart bled, the tears came
silently, belied not even by his breath. And still, even with his eyes closed
and his face hidden, Newt must have felt it somehow, because he was tightening
his hold and riding out the sorrow and grief with him.
After a long while, laying in bed and wasting the day away, Percival insisted,
“You should eat.” Newt didn't want to move, and he made that obvious when he
burrowed deeper into Percival's chest, but eventually, they unwound from one
another, picked up their untouched plates, and fed themselves. The food tasted
like dust and ash and air, their mouths chewing only by force of habit while
their minds ran a hundred miles a minute. Percival peered at Newt, and Newt met
his gaze fleetingly.
And in that moment, Graves decided that he would never let anything happen to
this man.
***** The Underground *****
Chapter Summary
     mentions of rape, nothing explicit
The next morning, Theseus arrived.
Percival and Newt startled at the rough pounding echoing from the front door.
They had been in the middle of breakfast, Percival about to take a sip of
coffee, and Newt about to finish the last bite of his scrambled eggs. When a
voice shouted through the reinforced door, the two men looked at each other,
worried.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Newt asked, but Percival was already shaking
his head and getting up from the table.
“I'll see what I can do. You don't have to see him if you don't want to.”
Percival decided, and Newt watched him leave for the front door. He didn't get
up from his seat, he merely stayed hidden in the kitchen and waited.
Percival took a breath behind the front door, letting himself prepare, and then
slowly, slightly opened it. He peered out, immediately spying a red-faced and
angry Theseus just on the other side. He didn't even have to ask what Theseus
wanted, for the man was yelling in mere moments.
“Where's Newt, you bloody pig?!” He cried, trying to shove the door open wider,
but Percival kept his grip steady, keeping Theseus from even looking inside.
“What did you do with him?!”
“Calm down, Theseus. I didn't do anything to your brother.” Percival declared
immediately, and Theseus all but slammed his fist into the door.
“Then where is he?” He growled, trying to shove again, but Percival remained
steady.
“He's inside. He's eating right now. And you're not coming in until you've
calmed down.” Percival declared, watching with little humor as Theseus
struggled with his anger, obviously trying to reel himself back.
“I want to see him,” Theseus demanded, in a much calmer voice, although he
still sounded tense and irritated.
Percival fell quiet at that, considering his request. After a long moment, he
turned his head and called out over his shoulder, “Newton. Your brother would
like to see you.”
Newt sat stiffly in his chair, feeling frozen to the spot. He really didn't
want to go, he really didn't want to be yelled at by his brother at the moment,
but he didn't want to hurt Theseus by outright saying he didn't want to see
him. He tried to steel himself, tried to be strong, and carefully got to his
feet.
As he drew closer to the front door, to where Percival stood, blocking Theseus
from view, Percival peered at him and lifted a brow, a silent question, if he
really wanted to do this.
Newt swallowed thickly, nodded, and approached just as Percival stepped out of
the way.
“Newt!” Theseus gasped, shoving the door with enough force to finally make
Percival stumble back. Theseus elbowed his way into the house, grabbed Newt by
the shoulders, and pulled him into a tight hug.
Then, seconds later, he was pushing Newt back, holding him at arm's length, and
shouting, “Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, what in the world were you thinking?!
Running away without a word, leaving me a measly note?!”
“Th-Theseus...” Newt tried to say, but his voice wavered and his heart pounded
in his chest. He was still too raw for this, still in too much pain. Percival
stepped in, then, wrapping an arm around Newt's shoulders and pulling the boy
to his chest.
“That's enough, Theseus,” Percival spoke up, using his own body as a buffer
between the brothers, “Calm down or get out.”
“That's my brother! You can't--!” Theseus began to shout, only to immediately
fall silent when Newt sobbed aloud. Percival tightened his hold on the boy, but
Theseus was stepping inside again, cupping Newt's face in his hands and tilting
his head up, “No, no, no, shh, shh, it's okay!”
“I don't want to do this, Theseus, please,” Newt begged, watery eyes wide and
begging. Theseus continued to gently shush him, wiping his tears away
desperately, and he began to nod his head.
“We're not doing this. We're not doing anything, I promise, Newt. I just wanted
to see you, make sure you were okay, that's all!” Theseus reassured him,
worming Newt out of Percival's grip to pull him into a tight hug.
“I'm fine, Theseus, I'm fine.” Newt whimpered, twisting his hands in Theseus'
shirt, his jacket, knowing that he was anything but. “Just trust me on this,
Theseus... Please...”
“I-I do trust you, I promise,” Theseus reassured him, running his hands through
Newt's hair, over the back of his neck, over his shoulders, “But you can't just
leave me a note and vanish, Newt! You can't!”
“You wouldn't have let me come!” Newt claimed, pulling away from Theseus far
enough to cast him a mean look, one that Theseus faltered under.
“Why should I have?” Theseus huffed, becoming just the slightest bit defensive,
“Percival's old! He's nearly three times your age!”
At that, Percival balked and retorted in an offended tone, “I'm thirty-five.”
Theseus scoffed at him but relented and corrected himself, “Twice your age.
Like that's even better! Why do you even want to be with this man? He took
advantage of you, Newton!”
“He didn't!” Newt claimed, stepping away from Theseus now, “This is why I left
so abruptly! You don't even listen to me!”
“Newt,” Percival spoke up, hoping to calm him down just a bit, but Newt didn't
seem to hear him.
“Percival and Credence... they took care of me! They treated me so well,
Theseus! They...” Newt clenched his jaw, felt more tears fall, but he didn't
let the words come. Instead, he shook his head and turned away, slipping back
into the house and letting Percival keep Theseus out. He was done talking. He
needed to be alone.
“Newt!” Theseus shouted, but Percival was telling him that they had enough,
that it was time for him to go. Newt hurried down the hall, rushing to
Percival's bedroom and heading for the bed. He dropped onto it, grabbing a
pillow and holding it close as he listened to Theseus and Percival argue for a
few more minutes, ending with a loud bang—the front door being shut.
He heard Percival approach soon after. Felt the bed dip behind him. Saw the
arms slip around his front and gently work the pillow away. Newt let it go, his
comfort being replaced by a strong, warm, beating chest to his back and dry
lips on his neck.
And then, gently whispered against his skin, Percival promised, “I love you.”
 
“I love you,” Credence breathed, staring at the man above him, trying to make
it sound as genuine as it was when he would think about saying it to Percival.
But Percival never laughed like Grindelwald did. He never mocked Credence for
the things he felt or said, never made him regret his words only moments after
whispering them.
“Don't lie to me,” Grindelwald chuckled, pushing Credence's hair out of his
face, tugging at the sweaty strands, “Naughty, filthy boy. Think you could just
tell anyone that?”
Credence shook his head, or he at least tried to with Grindelwald holding his
head still in his fist.
“Only you,” He whispered, placing trembling hands on Grindelwald's chest, not
daring to meet his eye even though it was directly above his head. “Promise.”
Grindelwald laughed at him again, ran his hands over Credence's body, his lips
over his neck, claiming him more intimately than he had just minutes before.
Credence shuddered, although he tried to pass it off as enjoyment, and he let
his eyes slide closed. He would pretend it was Newt or Graves, pretend he was
actually in love instead of scared and trying to get by. He didn't know what
Grindelwald wanted past this, past his body, but he was determined to survive
it.
It wouldn't be the first time Grindelwald took Credence in his bed. It wouldn't
be the last time, either. But no matter how many times Grindelwald claimed him,
no matter how rough or how gentle he was, Credence still had to pretend it was
anyone but him. Still had to pretend it was one of his past lovers who held
him, who he whispered to at night, who he kissed passionately and let take.
It was easier when they were alone together, when no one was there watching
them, when Credence could close his eyes and let his imagination take control.
But when Grindelwald brought Credence out to parade him in front of his
subordinates, in front of the line workers and the soldiers, Credence couldn't
even look at the man without feeling disgusted. With himself, mostly, but with
Grindelwald as well. He tried not to think it, but he constantly wondered to
himself, 'who could ever love this sort of man?'
Credence followed Grindelwald around the factory and obeyed his every command
for a little over a week. In the morning, just as Credence was waking up and
pulling the blankets around his nude form, he found Grindelwald standing at the
other side of the room, dressed far more smartly than he had ever dressed for a
day of work. Credence rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining it, but
when he looked again, he was certain Grindelwald was dressed to the nines.
“Ah, I was wondering when you would wake.” Grindelwald spoke up, not even
looking at Credence, “I must be on my way now. I have much to do.”
“Oh,” Credence pushed himself up from the bed, but just as he was standing,
Grindelwald was raising a hand for him to stop.
“Ah, ah, you're not coming with me, pet,” Grindelwald spoke, and Credence
looked up at him in surprise. “I will be going outside for a while. Perhaps a
month. There's work for me to do up there, you see. And I can't bring with me a
boy who was meant to be killed, do you understand?”
Credence blinked, then peered down at his covered lap before asking, “What...
am I going to do?”
“Well you'll be down here, of course,” Grindelwald said snidely, as if it were
obvious. Credence shifted, becoming anxious.
“But what will I do down here?” Credence asked again, and Grindelwald paused to
grimace at him. He always got annoyed when Credence asked the same question
twice. Credence looked away from him, trying to remain visibly submissive.
“You will do as my soldiers say,” Grindelwald ordered, raising a brow, “You
will report to Officer Samson just down the hall every morning and return back
to this room when the day is done. Simple.”
“When... When will you be back?” Credence asked nervously, almost afraid to,
but this time Grindelwald chuckled.
“Will you miss me, pet? I'll only be gone for a few weeks. I'm sure it won't be
more than a month.” He said, putting a knee on the bed beside Credence and
running his fingers along his jaw, “And when I come back, I'll be certain to
make up for lost time.”
Credence shuddered at the implications, disgusted, but he forced himself to
smile and press his cheek against his palm.
“Will you be good for Samson for me, pet?” Grindelwald hummed, leaning in to
give his boy a kiss.
“Yes,” Credence whispered, closing his eyes and allowing Grindelwald to caress
him.
“Good.” Grindelwald placed one last kiss upon his lips, then stood and headed
for the door, “Don't forget to feed yourself.”
“Yes, sir.” Credence called out after him, waiting with bated breath as
Grindelwald collected the last of what he needed, then left.
Credence stared at the door for a moment longer. Then, as if he might alert
Grindelwald, he slipped out of bed and tip-toed to the closet. He pulled on his
clothes, black on black on black, and by the time he was ready for his day,
there was a sharp knock on the door.
Taking a deep breath, Credence headed for the door and let it slide open. On
the other side stood a woman, much to Credence's surprise, but she looked just
as heartless and stone-cold as Grindelwald. She wore the standard outfit, with
added shoulder and wrist guards. She was as pale as can be from staying
underground for so long, her eyes as black as the halls at night and her hair a
bland, sun-starved yellow, pulled back into a tight bun, with not even a strand
loose.
Without greeting, Officer Samson immediately spoke up, her voice booming and
overwhelming in Credence's ears, “You are to follow me from the moment you get
up to the moment you go to sleep. I expect you to be right behind me at all
times, unless otherwise completing a task that I have assigned you. You will
only return to this room when I allow it. Do you understand?”
“Er...” Credence gulped, terrified by this woman, terrified by her
impassiveness, but he muttered out a meek, “Yes, ma'am.”
Samson huffed, her nostrils flaring for a moment, then she turned sharply and
proceeded down the hall. “I am a very busy woman, swine. If you slow me down, I
won't hesitate to throw you in the recreation room for the rest of the month.”
Credence felt his blood go cold, and almost desperately, he muttered, “But...
Grindelwald--”
“Grindelwald is no longer here, swine.” Samson stated, stopping her stride to
turn and leer over Credence, “You might have been given a bed and a room, but
you are nothing but a pig to me.”
Credence could only gape at this woman, terrified straight down to the bone. He
thought he had been frozen solid, but the moment Samson turned and resumed
walking, Credence rushed to keep up with her. His throat felt dry and his
clothes suddenly felt too hot and tight, but he didn't dare lose his stride
with her. He barely wanted to utter a word, afraid that the smallest mistake
could convince her to throw him in the recreation room immediately, but he
still found himself hesitantly asking, “Wh-what are we going to do?”
“We are going to do actual work,” Samson explained roughly, her brow furrowed,
“Mister Grindelwald may run this place and walk around like he's the cock of
the walk, but he is no longer here, and you no longer have that luxury. You
will assist me with completing my job daily. You will shadow me and you will
learn. And you better learn fast.”
Credence was having a hard time keeping up with her quick stride. He didn't
think how hard it would be to keep up with the rest of her. Anxiously, Credence
pointed out, “B-but I... I failed the Thinning...”
“Do you think this job has anything to do with the Thinning?” Samson huffed,
glaring over her shoulder at him, “We have all failed the Thinning.”
“Wh-what?” Credence paused, and after a moment, so did Samson. Staring at
Credence with cold eyes, she clasped her hands behind her back, standing
strong.
Slowly, she took a step towards Credence, asking him, “If you haven't already
realized, swine, the Thinning is just a cover.” She kept advancing, and
Credence began to retreat, his heart pounding in his chest, “It doesn't matter
who fails or who passes.” She backed Credence against a wall, watching the
sweat drip down his temple, “All that matters is if you are useful to
Grindelwald or not.”
Credence's breath stuck in his throat. Samson was practically towering over
him, even though she was a good half foot shorter, and when she saw that her
point had gotten across, she leaned away and said, “Show him you're useful,
swine. Show him you're here for a reason.”
“I-I...” Credence squeaked when Samson suddenly threw her fist right in front
of his face, squeezing her hands so tightly that the leather gloves she wore
audibly strained.
“As soon as Grindelwald gets bored of you, he'll discard you. If you don't
learn, you'll either work the line or work in recreation. So learn to be
strong.”
Final bit of advice given, Samson took a step back, checked her watch, then
clicked her tongue, “We're behind schedule. Come. We need to make the rounds.”
She made a sharp turn and marched forward. Credence leaned against the wall for
a moment longer, but when Samson called out, “Come along, pig,” he pushed
himself up and hurried after her.
Right off the bat, Samson's schedule was much different than Grindelwald's.
While he and Grindelwald spent most of their time ghosting around the factory
and keeping a very distant eye on things, Samson seemed to have a more hands-on
approach. Upon entering the factory, Samson was already barking out orders, not
just to the other officers, but to the factory workers as well. Credence
followed closely, watching in silence as Samson closely examined the lines,
stopping every once in a while to bark at a worker to go faster, or to be more
precise. One worker accidentally dropped what they were making, and Samson was
on top of them in moments.
Picking up the part—a small, insignificant looking piece of the tablet they
were making—Samson slammed her hand down on the worker's desk, startling the
meek ten-year-old, and practically shoved the part right into her face, and all
but shouted at her for her recklessness. Credence stood behind her, watching in
shock as she made the girl cry.
“Do you think you can just throw these around? Don't you realize that this
small, fragile piece of technology is more important than yourself?! You. Are.
Replaceable!” Samson slammed the device down on the table, stood straight and
scoffed.
“One more mistake and you will consider line-work to be a luxury.” She
threatened, turning and walking away soon after. Credence gazed after her,
pausing to look back at the sniveling girl, but rushed after Samson when she
barked out, “Come, pig!”
Luckily, there were no more accidents as disturbing as that one as they walked
the lines. Still, Samson still seemed to find a reason to confront various
workers, all various ages, scolding them and treating them like they were
nothing but defective robots. Credence watched it all silently, although the
discomfort he could not hide. Multiple times he found himself gazing back at
the victim of Samson's wrath, mouthing a meek 'I'm sorry,' even if it was just
to make himself feel better.
When they finished their lines, Samson checked her watch once again and said,
“The floor manager will take care of them throughout the day. We just have to
stop by every once-in-a-while to make sure everything is going smoothly.” She
turned to face Credence, lifting a brow at him, “Can't have only one person in
a room of two to three hundred pigs all the time, especially if they get
rowdy.”
“H-how do you keep them so quiet?” Credence asked softly, looking out to the
workers, realizing belatedly that they truly were a mob against a single
guard—the floor manager, who was armed and didn't mind showing it. “They
outnumber the floor manager.”
“True,” Samson smirked, turning away and continuing her stride, trusting
Credence to keep up, “Which is why we make demonstrations of particularly
disquieted pigs. Nothing keeps the masses in fear better than a public
execution.”
Credence's brow furrowed, and he glanced back to the retreating lines before
muttering, “That can't be the only thing.”
“It's not. But that's not information for you to know.” Samson declared,
stopping in front of a metal gate which she slid open. She pushed Credence in
first, then stepped in herself, and with the yank of a lever, they were
descending. Credence swayed when the industrial elevator shook and shuttered,
but Samson remained still, her stance impenetrable. She only moved when she
pushed the lever back up, stopping their descent, and then yanked the gate
open.
“Go on,” Samson urged, pushing Credence out into the new hallway, one he hadn't
been in before when he toured the place with Grindelwald.
“Wh-where are we?” Credence asked nervously, taking a few shuffling steps as
Samson took the lead.
“We still have work to do. We have to check the kitchens.” She explained, and
Credence felt his blood run cold. The kitchens, where Grindelwald claimed they
killed and chopped up and cooked people. He could already see it, walls
splattered with blood, floors drowning in it as it ran thickly into a single
drain. Human corpses hanging upside-down from hooks on the ceiling like dead
cattle, throats slit as they hung there. Credence really didn't want to see the
kitchens, he didn't want to see the horrors that this place truly held. He was
terrified to go any further, but when Samson turned her cold eyes on him and
commanded he hurry up, he found himself walking forward anyway.
The double-doors at the end of the halls were pushed open, admitting them to a
giant open floor, much like the factory above, but instead of lines of people,
there were lines of countertops, stoves, ovens, everything a team of chefs
would need to feed so many people. Against the back of the wall, so far
Credence had to squint to properly see it, there were giant, thick, heavy metal
doors with the curls of icy steam wafting under it. That must be where they
held the corpses, Credence decided with a sick churn of his gut. They wouldn't
just let them sit out in the humid air of the kitchen and rot.
“Officer Sam!” Another armed guard shouted, looking similar to the floor
manager above, though she wasn't wearing a mask, nor was she wearing a full set
of armor. Credence figured the heat would have been too overwhelming otherwise.
The guard stopped in front of Samson and saluted firmly, only relaxing a moment
later when Samson commanded her to.
“I received your message. Show me the rats.” Samson cut straight to the chase,
not even introducing Credence even though this guard was glancing at him
curiously.
It seemed the guard knew better than to delay Samson, however, for she
immediately nodded and began to walk towards the back, explaining, “I don't
know how they got in, honestly, but we keep finding their shit in the corners
of the freezers. I even found one of them as hard as ice in there, Officer! If
they get into the pantries, our stocks could be ruined!”
Credence went cold when he realized they were walking towards the freezers. His
legs suddenly felt stiff and heavy, his heart pounding in his chest. He almost
wanted to shout at them that he couldn't bear to see whatever horrors they held
inside, but the guard was already tugging on the handle, opening the freezer
with a gust of frozen air, and Credence peered inside.
Blinking owlishly, Credence looked back and forth between the carcasses of
cows, pigs, and even fowls, along with stacks of frozen fruits and vegetables
and cases of liquids. Unintentionally, Credence blurted out, “But where are the
people?” Both Samson and the guard looked at him in surprise, only until the
guard burst out laughing.
“Is he a new recruit?” She asked delightedly, gesturing to Credence, “Poor boy,
I told you not to let that joke spread! He looks downright terrified!”
Samson grimaced at the guard's mirth, then said to Credence, “Against popular
belief, we don't actually cook and serve human remains here.”
Credence felt like he could breathe again, and he brought a hand up to his
forehead and muttered, “Oh, thank God.”
“Rumors aside, these rats pose a very serious problem. We have little food as
it is; we can't risk more of it being depleted. Not to mention the disease they
can carry.”
Suddenly, a man was entering the freezer, dressed in a chef's uniform, white
clothes splattered with color. He was portly, a little hairy, and seemed sort
of skittish, but he smiled up at the three of them as soon as he entered.
“Jacob!” The guard called out, walking over to the big man and wrapping an arm
around his shoulders, “Officer Sam, this is Jacob, he's our head pastry chef
around here. Guy knows how to make a mean fruit tart.”
Samson looked perturbed and she crossed her arms defensively, but she gave
Jacob a brief nod. “I assume you've noticed the rat problem, then?”
“Oh, yeah, probably found the stuff about a week ago. Thought it was nothing,
honestly, but when I found more of it, well...” He paused, then scratched at
the back of his neck nervously, “I thought it might be better to bring in the
big guns.”
Samson sniffed, turning her head away, and remained stoic. “It was a good
choice,” She declared, stepping further into the freezer despite how cold it
was. Credence was already shivering.
“We'll have to set out rat poison and some traps. Benni, do you think you can
contact imports and see what we can get?”
The female guard made another solute, then said, “I'll go immediately, ma'am!”
“Good.” Samson turned to Credence as Benni left the freezer, raising a brow at
the boy, “We'll walk our lines here as well. Come.”
Credence fell into step with her, moving around Jacob who went further into the
freezer to collect whatever it was he came in there for. They started at the
back, going up and down the hot kitchen halls as Samson surveyed each worker.
Her eyes were sharp and her senses even more so, and she seemed to hone in on
those who were struggling to work as quickly as the rest.
Although Credence fully expected more shouting and insults to be hurled, Samson
actually stood beside these chefs as if they were people. Still below her, with
the way she directed them in a cold manner, but still beings capable of
emotion. Credence's brow furrowed, and when they continued the lines, he asked,
“Are these people like you? Like the officers?”
“Hm? Of course not. Why do you ask?” Samson queried, her stride casual. She
even looked much more relaxed in the kitchen than she did in the factory.
“Well.... It's just...” Credence looked around, looked at the chefs who were
smiling, talking with one another, laughing, and he continued quietly, “They
seem like they like their job a lot better than factory work.”
“Why wouldn't they? Our chefs are treated with utmost respect. Well, the most
respect a pig can have.” Samson smirked, glancing back and forth between a few
more of them cooking, “Do you really think we're stupid enough to allow these
people dangerous weapons and access to spoiled or poisonous goods without
making sure they absolutely loved us first?”
Credence thought about it, a frown on his face, and when loud laughter broke
across the hall again, he found himself looking up, disbelief in his eyes.
“I just don't understand how they can be happy when there's a whole factory
above them, working their people like slaves.” He admitted, and Samson let out
a long sigh as if this wasn't the first time she had been told this.
“It's very simple, child,” Samson stated, pausing in the middle of an unused
space so that they weren't blocking anyone's work, “How could pigs be scared
for other pigs if they don't know they're there? As far as these chefs know,
this is the only world that exists for them. There is no factory upstairs.
There is no swine and slaves. There is only them, cooking, and us, protecting.”
Credence stared up at Samson in shock, then asked breathlessly, “They don't
know where they are?”
“Well, they know that they failed the Thinning. They know that they're here
because they have skills that are still sought after.” Samson smirked, resuming
the walk, “As far as they know, we saved them from death. As far as they know,
they had been plucked from those who failed and allowed a second chance at
life. So long as we allow them the slightest bit of luxury, we'll never have to
worry about an uprising.”
Credence furrowed his brow, concerned about this system they had, but he
followed Samson anyways, somehow eager to learn more. “Why didn't Grindelwald
show me all of this when he was here?”
“Do you think I know what goes on in Grindelwald's brain?” Samson snorted,
sneering at Credence, “He probably expects you to remain his little bed warmer
for all I know. But I don't believe in any one of us being allowed to laze
about. If we're all down here, then we have to pull our own weight.
Grindelwald's pet included.”
They walked quietly afterward, Samson pausing here and there to calmly but
sternly guide those who needed help, and even praising some when she paused for
a taste. Credence felt like he was watching a whole other woman walking around
these kitchens, and when they finally made it back to the lift, Credence gazed
up at her.
“Why do you call them swine and pigs?” Credence asked, his brow furrowed.
Samson shifted slightly where she stood, her hand on the lever as they lowered
deeper into the ground. Credence could barely see her face in the darkness, the
single lamp hanging in the corner only barely luminous.
“So we can distance ourselves from them.” She ended up answering, though her
voice sounded much smaller than it had all day. Credence could relate, he
realized. How could these men and women continue what they do, abuse children
and teenagers and allow them to be raped or injured or killed if they didn't
somehow put a screen between Them and Us. If the workers were just another
animal to them, it made it that much easier to sleep at night.
“Does it work?” Credence asked next, his own voice quiet, almost lost in the
hushing sound of metal gliding down cut stone and rock.
Samson closed her eyes. That much Credence could see. Just the flicker of her
lashes outlined in the dim light, remaining still for a few long moments, and
then opening again.
“No.” She admitted, pushing the lever up and stopping the elevator, “But what
we cannot cope with can be forgotten.”
Credence lowered his gaze as Samson slid the gate open, and out they walked yet
again to a whole other level.
“Sammy!” They were immediately greeted by another officer, this one not armed
at all and wearing just the barest armor. He didn't even have a nightstick. “I
was wondering when you'd come by. You're usually never late.”
“I have baggage today,” Samson mentioned, gesturing towards Credence who merely
hunched his shoulders.
“Ah, that must be Grindelwald's thing, huh? No wonder,” The guy chuckled, then
gestured with his chin and began to walk, “Benni told you about that rat
problem already?”
“She has.”
“That's good. She was getting real worked up about it. Ah, here you go,” The
officer pushed open the double doors for the both of them, allowing them to
step inside first, and within, Credence's eyes went huge.
If he thought the kitchens were better than the factory, this was twice as
much. Like the first two rooms, the area was expansive, but now they were
filled top to bottom with screens and technology. People sat behind desks,
tapping away on their personal monitors. Others were chatting, bouncing off
ideas and using words that Credence never could understand. At the very end of
the room, directly across from the doorway, there sat a large, inexcusably huge
desk, and the top of it was an equally large screen.
And sitting right in the middle was a golden-haired woman who absolutely beamed
at them.
“Queenie,” Samson sighed in greeting.
“Hello Sammy,” Queenie replied, wiggling her fingers in a playful sort of wave,
“What brings you 'round my halls?”
“I come here every day, Queenie.” Samson reminded her, brows lifted. Queenie
giggled delightedly, a soft, musical sort of thing.
“Oh, isn't that right. I must have forgotten.” She grinned, then peered up at
Credence and went on a completely new track. Standing up from her desk, she
extended a hand and gasped out, “Well, hello there, sweetheart! You must be a
new face 'round here, huh?”
“Y-yes,” Credence muttered, taking Queenie's hand in a limp grip and giving it
a single shake.
“Look at you! You look so young, sweetie. What's your name?” She asked, slowly
sitting back down as she straightened out her powder pink blouse.
“C-Credence, ma'am. Credence Barebone.”
“Ah, the young mista Barebone!” Queenie giggled, putting on a delicate golden
headset, and saying into the small microphone at the end, “Credence Barebone.”
The elongated screen glowed, information zipping across it in a blur as if they
were actual documents, until it finally pulled up a digital folder titled
Credence Barebone. Putting on a rose pink glove with sensors embedded in the
fingertips, Queenie tapped the folder, then pulled it up, watching as the
digital file shot into the air like a hologram, flipping open and displaying a
wide range of information.
“O positive blood type. Three fillings. Got every single shot. Oh! Adopted!”
Queenie grinned up at Credence, “And what peculiar after-school activities.”
Credence felt his blood run cold and his eyes grow wide, but before he could
say a word about it, Queenie waved the file away and said, “Ah, but don't you
worry, sweetie. I ain't gunna tell a soul.”
“I-I don't understand...” Credence managed to stutter out, looking from Queenie
to Samson, his brows furrowed.
“In order to keep this place running, we need to make sure that our existence
is not discovered,” Samson explained in a straight-forward tone, “And we need
to keep tabs on every potential child there is that we can recruit. Along with
those who will ultimately fail.”
“You've been in my sights for quite a while,” Queenie mentioned with a wink,
“You and that cute Scamander boy. He was supposed to be recruited this year,
but I heard a whole mess of records was released. Sounds like a terror to deal
with.”
“It's already been two weeks and Grindelwald has to go back up there to deal
with the media,” Samson muttered, rolling her eyes, “The whole state is calling
for blood. They want Grindelwald's head on a pike, because of coursethey're
blaming him.”
Queenie let out a long sigh, leaning back in her seat with a frown, and she
said, “Well, what are the politicians gonna do? Tell the world it's actually
their fault?” She tutted, “Mista Grindelwald already has his plate full.” Then,
with a keen eye, Queenie peered back up at Samson and said, “But you don't come
'round here for a chat. What do you need, Sammy?”
“I need to know if imports can gather some poison and traps. There are rats in
the kitchen.” Samson explained, arms crossed, and Queenie immediately grimaced,
although even that emotion on her face was graceful.
“Oh, I do hope they don't get to the pastries,” Queenie murmured, her brow
quirked, “I can't go a day without a pączki.”
“They won't get into any of our food if we get those traps. Understand?” Sammy
clarified, frowning, but Queenie was already humming and pulling up file after
file.
“Don't you worry, sweetie Sammy, I'll requisition some traps and a teensy bit
of rat poison, just for you.” She winked at Samson, then made a gesture with
her ungloved hand, “Run along now, sweetie. I know you're behind schedule.”
“Thank you, Queenie.” Samson turned and began to leave, Credence hesitantly
trailing behind. They didn't make rounds here. Instead, they headed straight
back out getting themselves back in the lift, which Samson began to bring up.
Credence stayed quiet for the duration of their journey, but the higher they
went, the more curious Credence became.
“They know everything?” He found himself asking. Samson huffed.
“Yes. And before you ask, they don't revolt because we keep them heavily
sedated. Well, more like we keep them on a lot of uppers. Can't do anything
when you're feeling happy all the time.” She explained, shrugging her shoulders
impassionately.
“That seems... wrong.” Credence mumbled, looking down at his feet, “All of this
seems wrong.”
“Credence,” Samson sighed, letting the lever go, even though they weren't at an
entrance yet. Standing there, trapped in a small lift with Samson, Credence
felt his heart rate rise. But Samson merely turned and looked at him, really
looked, and she told him, “This place, its existence, is wrong. What our
country has been doing to the so-called culled five percent is horrible, but it
cannot be stopped. We are running on our factories so desperately that without
them, our country might as well fall.”
She stepped closer, looking compassionate for once, and she said in a gentle
tone, “I know you didn't choose this. None of us did. But you're here now, and
you need to make the best of it.”
“By making everyone else feel worse?” Credence argued.
“By pretending it doesn't hurt.” Samson clarified, her voice genuine, “By
pretending that you really are dead and are trapped in some sort of sick
version of Hell. By pretending like none of this is real.”
Stepping away from Credence and moving back to the lever, Samson uttered, “If
you can't do that... you'll just drive yourself mad.”
They resumed their ascent.
They didn't walk anymore lines that day. Instead, Samson brought Credence to a
space that looked like the cafeteria at school. It had picnic-style tables,
booths set in the back, and multiple machines that dispensed anything from
coffee to whiskey. This was where the officers and guards congregated during
their off-time, it seemed. Credence walked with Samson towards the back,
finding himself a seat in the same booth as her, and watched stiffly as others
began to flock.
“Well, well, well,” A thin but tall man called out in a reedy voice, his
eyebrows raised high and his eyes focused on Credence, “I thought Botinelli was
joking when she said you had a shadow, but look at this! Sammy has a little
puppy following her around!”
He slid into the booth, pressing right up against Credence's side, and he
winked playfully at him, “Hey.” He flirted.
“Er...” Credence shrunk away from him, inevitably scooting closer to Samson
while he did so, but the woman didn't seem all that concerned with how near he
got.
“Leave him alone, Rodgers, I saw him first!” A muscular but pretty woman
challenged, getting in the booth as well and squeezing in as close as she
could. She reached around Rodgers and put a hand on Credence's knee, giving it
a little squeeze, “Besides, it looks like you need a woman's touch.”
Credence jerked away from her, gasping, but this only elicited sick laughter
from the two guards. He wanted to get out of the booth, but Samson was blocking
his way, sitting there and watching them and doing nothing about it.
And then a third one appeared, a meek young man who looked just as green as
Credence did, and he carried with him a tray covered in drinks. “Here's your
coffee,” He said as he placed the cup in front of Samson, “And some gin and
tonic,” He placed that in front of Rodgers, “And absinthe for the lady,” which
he placed in front of Botinelli.
When he looked back to Credence, though, the boy wore a frown, and he uttered,
“I-I didn't know you were training a new recruit, Sam.”
“I'm pet-sitting. At best.” Samson retorted, picking up her coffee and taking a
few thick gulps down.
“I'm sorry, I... didn't get you anything,” The guy apologized, but Credence
automatically shook his head, muttering that it was quite alright, even though
he found himself rather thirsty.
The boy shuffled his feet, looking nervous, and then he set the tray down and
gently slid into place just beside Botinelli, offering Credence a tiny smile.
“I'm Newmaker. What's your name?”
“C-Credence, sir.” He replied, only for Botinelli and Rodgers to burst into
laughter.
“He called him sir!” Rodgers howled.
“Look at poor Newmaker! Oh, his face is just red!” Botinelli teased, pinching
Newmaker's cheeks until he smacked her hand away.
“I'm... sorry?” Credence tried, worried, but the others merely continued to
laugh and joke and tease.
Samson, deciding that Credence had gone through enough trouble as it is, pulled
Credence closer and explained, “Newmaker is fresh from the Thinning, just like
you. Almost made him a factory pig, but he proved to have other talents. But
for now, he's being trained by Rodgers.”
“And aren't I doing a good job? He knows everyone's drinks, now!” Rodgers
claimed, slapping the table humorously. Newmaker tried to smile, but it came
more like a grimace.
“I asked Sam to train me first,” Newmaker admitted to Credence, “But she said
she was too busy to deal with a pup like me.”
“Excuses, excuses. She just doesn't think you're worth it,” Botinelli grinned,
leaning back against the plush seat of the booth's bench, “Well, come on then!
Why're you watching this one?” She gestured with a jerk of her chin towards
Credence, a sort of snotty grin on her face.
“Grindelwald had business to do. He left me his pet to deal with for the
month,” Samson said plainly and honestly, putting a hand to her head so she
could rub her temples. As if Credence had been enough to spur on a headache.
“This is Grindelwald's?” Rodgers asked, pointing rudely at Credence, “Really?”
“I thought he had better taste,” Botinelli said behind her hand, although she
did nothing to actually lower her voice. “That thing looks like a twig.”
“I-I think he's sort of nice,” Newmaker tried to join in, but both Botinelli
and Rodgers cast him an ungrateful look. Newmaker immediately ducked his head,
uttering an apology.
On the other side of the table, Samson finished her coffee.
“It's time to get back, Credence.” She ordered, getting up from her seat in the
booth. When Credence tried to follow, Rodgers immediately shot a hand out and
grabbed him by the wrist.
“No, stay a little longer!” He said, voice cloy, “You can have fun with us!
Samson's just about the work. Don't you want to relax?”
Credence tried to jerk out of his grip, but that only seemed to spur Rodgers
on, and he grabbed Credence's arm with his other hand, yanking the boy closer,
“Of course you do, doll, I can see it in your eyes.”
“N-no!” Credence tried to argue, but Rodgers hushed him as if he were soothing
a child, and he pulled Credence even closer.
“Don't try to play hard to get with me, doll face. I always win.” Rodgers
grinned, and Credence thought for a horrible moment that he was about to be
devoured by this man.
But then Samson was grabbing him by the back of his shirt, yanking him out of
the booth and out of Rodger's grip with a single tug. She threw Credence onto
the ground, the boy shouting as he landed, and spat out, “Get up. You're
wasting my time.”
She stomped off moodily, and Credence had to scramble to his feet before he
could chase after her. By the time they made it into the lift, Credence was
gasping from exhaustion and panic, and Samson didn't even offer him a look of
pity.
They climbed higher, Credence finally catching his breath, and he managed to
mutter out, “Thank you...”
Samson snorted, her brow twitching, and she scolded him, “Next time, don't egg
him on like that.”
Credence blinked at her, confused, and was about to ask 'like what,' but they
arrived at their next destination before he could manage it. Samson stepped out
first and Credence followed after, looking around in awe as he took in the
newest space.
“This is imports,” Samson explained since no one rushed up to greet her, “They
handle everything that comes in and anything that goes out. We also store the
bulk of our non-perishable foods here.” She walked on, Credence tailing after
her, and soon they were roaming between the tall rows of shelves, not a single
one of them empty. Boxes, cans, bags, even pallets were spread throughout the
room. People passed by them, but none of them offered Samson or Credence a
hello.
“Do you drug these people too?” Credence asked a little cruelly, but, he
thought, after all he had seen today, he could be a little cruel.
However, Samson replied with a simple, “No.” She let that hang in the air for a
handful of seconds, then added, “These are the illegal immigrants that have
been 'deported.' None of them speak English.”
Credence gaped at her, horrified by the implications, and he asked, “Have none
of the other countries wondered about their own people?”
“Are you kidding? Every country is struggling to meet their five percent. If a
handful of people leave their country, it's no longer their burden. So long as
they stay out, no one asks questions.” Samson explained, rolling her eyes.
Before Credence could say another word, they approached a small office that
jutted out from the corner. The door hung open, and inside sat a portly guard
with a thick mustache and beard. He startled to attention as soon as Samson
cleared her throat, and it almost looked like he had hurt himself in the
flurry.
“Officer Samson!” He bellowed in a deceivingly joyous tone, although the way he
was turning red and wringing his hands showed that he hadn't expected a visit
today.
Samson narrowed her eyes at the man, and responded curtly, “Taking time to
yourself again, I see. Since you seem to take care of all your work quickly
enough to allow such a luxury, maybe I should think about transferring you to
the factory. You would work much faster than the pigs I have there already.”
“N-no! I was---I just finished up some... some...” He looked around, eyes wide,
forehead sweating, and then he gestured to his desk—small and cramped as it
was—and declared, “Paperwork! Er... yes! I was just completing the paperwork.”
“So Benni has spoken to you already?” Samson asked, already knowing she hadn't
with the way the man seemed to stiffen up.
“Yes. Mhm. And I'm... I'm on it.” He stated, offering Samson a smile.
“So when do you think they'll arrive?” Samson continued, even though she knew
he didn't know, but it seemed to be amusing her to some extent.
“Ah, tomorrow evening, I believe! Yes, tomorrow. No later than five. Mhm!” He
responded ecstatically.
“Wonderful,” Samson sighed, turning away from this man and exiting his office,
all the while calling out over her shoulder, “Then I better see three thousand
mouse traps and thirty gallons of rat poison tomorrow evening.”
Away she walked, and Credence followed after, but he couldn't help but look
back as they left, seeing the man immediately regret what he had promised
Samson, absolutely red in the face and looking as if he would faint.
“Why--” Credence began to ask, but Samson held up a hand to stop him from
uttering another word.
“Nobody else wanted this job.” She explained, and Credence bobbed his head in
understanding.
They went back into the lift, returned to the floor where the factory was, and
proceeded towards the residential area, Credence's feet sore and Samson looking
tired. When they were away from the others, Samson explained, “Now that you've
seen the place properly, I expect you to do errands for me. I won't have you
shadowing me all day. It took much too long with you holding me back.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Credence uttered, keeping his head low.
“And you better be quick about it, boy. I won't always be in the same room for
long.” She added.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“And one more thing,” She stopped just before the door to her apartment,
turning to look at Credence one last time for the day, “I am not your mother. I
am not your friend. If you think I'll come in and save you from some trouble
you get mixed up in, think again.”
With that, Samson opened the door to her apartment and left Credence alone. But
he didn't linger long. He turned and entered Grindelwald's apartment, watching
as the door slid shut behind him, then he sighed and shuffled towards the bed.
He collapsed on the mattress with a huff, not even bothering to take his
clothes off first. He had spent too many nights nude in this bed. He didn't
want to spend another if he didn't have to.
So, staying fully dressed, even to the boots, Credence curled up on top of the
blankets, tucking himself into the fetal position, and began to fall asleep.
 
***** Struggles *****
Chapter Summary
     tw attempted rape. Doesn't get penetrative, but still very molest-y.
     A lot of victim shaming and self shaming too.
     This chapter is a bit short. Sorry I want to make sure it's skip-able
     if someone doesn't want to read it due to the trigger warning. It may
     be confusing, but it shouldn't be too bad.
He played as Samson's personal lackey for the rest of the week. He walked with
her as she did her lines, fetched things or relayed messages to the proper
departments, and dealt with her friends when she took breaks. It wasn't the
hardest work he had done, but it wasn't the easiest, either. He was lucky he
had a decent memory, or else he probably would have gotten lost in this maze a
long time ago.
Just like the rest of the guards and officers, Credence tried to pretend like
the people they were working to exhaustion weren't the same as him, although he
refused to actively ostracize them. Still, he felt like ignoring them and their
plight was just as bad.
He didn't think their lives could get any worse until one morning, while he and
Samson were pacing the factory, one of the younger workers began to vomit.
She hadn't been looking too well for the past few days, but it seems like
whatever was ailing her had finally reached a peak. Her retching echoed
throughout the spacious room, and Samson was on her faster than Credence could
blink. Everyone around them remained silent and kept to their work.
“I-I'm s-sorry!” The girl blubbered, the entire front of her shirt covered in
sick, orange and green and reeking. Samson regarded her for only a moment, then
pulled out her pistol and buried a bullet right between the kid's eyes.
Credence shouted in horror as the sound of the gunshot echoed, and in a panic,
he shouted, “Why did you do that?!”
“It was sick,” Samson stated plainly, as if that was all the reason she needed.
“She would have gotten better!” Credence claimed, looking down at the limp
body, watching the blood spill from the hole in her head, “You didn't have to
kill her!”
“Would you prefer I allow whatever illness she contracted to spread to the rest
of these swine?” Samson questioned, turning her glare on Credence, “We'd have
an epidemic on our hands, boy. I will not risk such a thing.”
“So you'd kill her instead?” Credence cried, feeling the emotion he had been so
desperately holding down finally bursting in his chest, “This is—This is just
ridiculous! All of this is mad!”
“That's enough,” Samson tried to order him, but now that Credence was letting
it out, he couldn't very well stop.
“How could you continue to live when these children are being tortured?” He
questioned, not even realizing when the workers immediately around them paused
and peered up at him, “Are you not a godly woman? Don't you realize you are
killing your own people?!”
“That's. Enough!” Samson shouted, striking Credence across the cheek and
sending him to the ground. Immediately, those that had stopped their work
immediately turned their heads away, hands fumbling as they tried to pretend
like they hadn't been listening. With Credence on the ground, Samson stood over
him, staring down at him with rage in her eyes and her jaw clenched.
“Do not think for even a second,” She began, her voice low and threatening,
“That just because you are Grindelwald's favorite, that you're immune to
punishment.” She crouched down, her knee slamming down right beside Credence's
shoulder, and she grabbed him by the front of his shirt.
“Do not think that I will not put you in your place because of him.” She spat,
eyes going wide, “I do not fear Grindelwald, pig. But you,” She tugged Credence
up, making him scramble against her grip, the shirt tugging painfully against
the back of his neck, “Should fear,” She put a hand on his jaw, holding onto
him tightly, refusing him even the most minute movements, “Me.”
Before Credence knew it, Samson was slamming his head back against the concrete
floor. His vision immediately went black, his body going limp, and just as he
was slipping into the darkness, he heard Samson's voice, vicious and
unforgiving, “You're lucky I don't just kill you.”
The feel of a damp cloth running over his brow was what brought him back. The
water was cool, soothing the stinging skin when it ran along the side of his
face, cleaning off the tear-tracks that had appeared from the pain. Slowly,
almost painfully, he opened his eyes.
Leaning over him was a woman, fully nude, with the most compassionate
expression he had ever seen in this god-forsaken place. “There you are,” She
whispered, a smile on her painted lips, and she continued to run the cloth over
his forehead, “Don't worry, dear. We got you.”
Credence blinked up at her, the gentle touch of the damp cloth in her hand
making him face back into unconsciousness, but his attention was grabbed before
he could slip away. A group of loud officers stepped into the room, loud and
boisterous and so obviously drunk. The woman tending to Credence twisted
around, her face twisting in distaste. The children scattered, running away
from the officers without a word, vanishing towards the back of the room.
The room was soon filled with tittering laughter and flirtatious cooing. The
officers began to break away from each other one by one, being pulled into the
arms of men and women alike, the slick sounds of mouths and tongue stroking
skin, soon followed by the jangling of their belts. Credence's head swam, still
reeling from the impact of his skull on the concrete floor, but he was
absolutely certain that the breathy moans and the slap of skin were real.
“Well, well, well,” A familiar voice ebbed into Credence's mind, and he
struggled to focus his waning gaze upon the figure standing over him. “If it
isn't Grindelwald's bitch. What are you doing in here, little boy?” She purred,
arms crossed over her muscular chest, dark eyes glinting down at Credence. The
man felt himself shudder, although it felt distant, not real. This was the same
woman that Samson ate lunch with every day, the very same woman who, like
Rodgers, couldn't keep her hands off of Credence, doing her best to embarrass
him with her inappropriate flirting.
Credence tried to reply to her, but his throat wasn't working right, and all he
managed was a weak gurgle. His response only spurred the woman—Clara, Credence
thinks her name was—laugh, and she took a few steps closer to him.
“If you're here now then that must mean you're being punished,” Clara reasoned,
uncrossing her arms and looking at Credence's vulnerable body up and down.
Credence's eyes rolled, unable to focus much longer, and his vision began to
tunnel. “I guess that also means that you're here to be used...”
Credence couldn't remember how or when, but suddenly Clara was upon him. She
grabbed Credence's wrists and started to tug open his clothes. Credence
groaned, unable to fight her off, even when she pressed her fingers into
Credence's mouth, pressing down on his tongue, saturating her fingers with his
saliva. He choked on her hand, twisted his head this way and that, struggling
to get her off of him.
“Come on, little pet,” Clara growled, yanking Credence's vest open, then
jerking his undershirt up, bunching it tightly under his armpits. She sat on
Credence's lap and started to painfully grind down on him, starting to pant.
“Don't you want to have a little fun?”
Struggling harder, Credence tried to shove her off, but his arms just wouldn't
do what he wanted them to, and his mind was just so fuzzy, and his vision kept
blurring. His heart pounded hard, and for a terrifyingly long time, he wondered
if this was actually going to happen, if he was going to be taken against his
permission. He felt his eyes burn with tears and his vision blurred more than
it already was, making even harder to see as Clara straddled his lap, body
undulating as she rolled her hips down on his lap. Credence sobbed, feeling his
body begin to respond, and right beside fear crept shame and disgust. Of course
a freak like him would become aroused from this. Of course his body would want
this.
Suddenly, her hands weren't the only pair on him. First he felt a single palm,
then two others, and then a series of little hands scrabbling over his skin. He
tried to blink his tears away, tunneled vision dimming as more and more shapes
appeared above him. He twitched and jolted, trying to force his heavy limbs to
move, to shove whoever was crowing him away, but soon relaxed when even Clara
began to fight the newcomers.
“Get away you little brats!” She shouted, lifting herself from Credence's lap.
Credence felt like he could suddenly breathe again, and those shapes crowing
his vision slowly came into focus, small figures surrounding him, their little
and somewhat clammy hands clinging to his limbs, a few large enough to hold his
shoulder or bicep, and the much smaller ones wrapping around three or four
fingers.
Clara faded further from Credence's vision, urged away by the crowd of
children, some of them even tugging at her clothes and arms, not relenting
until she was far from Credence. Even with her a safe distance, the children
surrounding him remained in place, chattering to each other in a strange
mixture of babble and English, apparently mentally delayed from the sort of
place they were growing up in. Credence's heart began to slow, his panic sapped
from his veins, and from a combination of youthful voices chattering quietly in
his ear and the abundance of small hands stroking his hair, cheeks, hands, and
legs, Credence sank back into unconsciousness, a sensation of safety overcoming
him.
When he woke up a second time, he did so with full awareness of his
surroundings. He sat up a bit too fast, making his head spin, but he knew
immediately where he had been thrown into. The nude bodies of men, women, and
children suggested he had been tossed in the recreation room.
“Good morning!” A youthful but loud voice spoke behind him, and he twisted
around to find a young boy no older than five sitting beside him, legs crossed
and a smile on his face. “You was sleeping for a lo-o-ong time.”
Credence blinked, not entirely sure what to say, so he began to look around
again, wondering just what he was doing here. When a few of the older men and
women there began to notice him, they began to gather around him, approaching
slowly and with gentle expressions.
“Hello,” A woman greeted him first, kneeling down before him, “Feeling better?”
“Why am I here?” Credence decided to ask, although he knew it was rude to just
rebuff her question like that. Meekly, he added, “I'm... fine.”
“Samson brought you here,” A man said from a few feet away, still standing,
“Said you needed to learn your place.”
“That was yesterday,” The woman before him added, looking at Credence, “She's
probably cooled down now if you want to go look for her.”
Credence grimaced, putting a hand up to the back of his head and immediately
wincing when he pushed on the fat bruise there. “I... think not.”
“That's fair,” She said, a smile on her face, “She should be just finishing up
in the kitchen by now. If you want to try to avoid her.”
“Wouldn't that just make her angrier?” Credence asked, and the woman shrugged
while the others around him laughed.
“I think you've already tested her limits,” The man stated, a delightful glint
in his eyes, “I heard the workers in the factory whispering about you, by the
way. They're really impressed.”
“Oh.” Credence looked down at his lap, suddenly feeling shy, “I didn't do
anything. Samson just threw me around.”
“It's not that,” He said with a roll of his eyes, taking a step closer.
Credence ducked his head more, suddenly not wanting to peer up and risk seeing
more than what he needs to, “They're impressed by you standing up for them.
They know you're different than the other guards, but seeing you question
Samson like that... they hadn't seen that sort of fire in someone on their side
in a long time.”
Credence bit his lip, then shrugged and pulled his knees to his chest, “I
just... got angry, I guess.”
“Well,” The woman beside him said, a smirk on her lips, “I think you should get
angry more often.”
Credence glanced her way, although he was a lot less comfortable with looking
at a woman's form than a man's, and muttered, “Did I really do anything,
though?”
She put a hand on his arm and said, “We can't tell you that, but the factory
workers can. Go talk to some of them. Just be careful the floor manager doesn't
see you.”
Credence frowned, but he nodded anyways and began to get up. “Samson's in the
kitchen?” He clarified, and to the nod of multiple people, he cleared his
throat and headed for the exit.
“G'bye!” The little boy who had greeted him first called out just as Credence
vanished out the door.
He walked quickly if not ashamed down the halls, making sure no one paid too
much attention to him. He kept his shoulders stiff and his head down, walking
right past a few other officers headed towards the recreation room, and he
managed to reach the stairs leading into the factory without any trouble.
Peering over the rails, he saw the floor manager walking along the middle row,
headed away from Credence, so he decided to start with the edge.
He crept down the stairs, hoping he wouldn't be spotted by the manager, and
when he managed to get on the ground, he quickly hid behind the lines of
workers.
Those immediately around him sort of jumped, but they didn't dare to raise
their heads from their work. They didn't want to risk punishment or failure.
Credence stayed crouched, peering over one of the worker's desks to make sure
the floor manager wasn't near, and then he looked at the workers around him.
They were all young, some so obviously fresh from the Thinning, but some of
them looked much older from the lack of sun and the tireless, delicate work.
Credence examined what they were making for a time, then finally managed to
speak up.
“How long have you been here?” He asked the boy to his right, frowning when he
flinched a second time. His hands faltered for only a moment, but he continued
to work regardless and bit his bottom lip. Seeing he wasn't going to get
anything out of him, Credence looked to his left and asked the young girl
there, “How about you? How long have you been here?”
The girl looked at him from the corner of her eye, still working deftly, then
whispered, “Two cycles.”
“Cycles?” Credence wondered, his head turning back around when the boy he
originally confronted finally spoke up.
“Can't tell time,” He whispered quickly, his brow furrowed in concentration,
“So count cycles. Count when new people come in.”
“Ah,” Credence hummed, making himself comfortable on the concrete floor between
the two, “Have you two always done this? Always been in the factory?”
“Yes,” They both whispered simultaneously, and then the boy uttered, “They
wouldn't want our kind to mix with the others.”
“Others?”
“The people below.” The girl picked up, glancing Credence's way again, “The
important people.”
“So you know about the kitchens?” Credence asked, and both of them gave a
single nod of their heads, “How did you find out about that place?”
“Hear rumors. Good workers go in. Bad workers come here.” The boy explained,
shrugging a shoulder, “Bad workers like to talk.”
Credence hummed, then asked, “And do you know what's below the kitchens?”
At this, both workers paused. Only for a second, but it was noticeable enough
for Credence. When they picked their work back up, the boy asked, “Below?”
Credence nodded, then explained, “There's another level. Filled with technology
like we've seen in the real world. People work there too.”
Both of them didn't respond to that, but from the expressions on their faces,
Credence could tell they weren't exactly happy about the news. Clearing his
throat, Credence tried a new tactic, “Why hasn't there been a revolt yet?”
“A revolt?” The girl snored, this time looking at Credence for more than just a
moment, “They'd kill each and every one of us.”
“Do you know how many guards there are?” Credence asked her, then looked back
at the boy, “Do you know how many are here right now?”
“There are five,” The boy said, brow furrowed, “The floor manager and the four
in the rafters.”
Credence smiled a little, then shook his head and said, “There isn't anybody in
the rafters. It's just one guy. One guy with one gun with six bullets.”
“You expect us to take on a guy by ourselves?” The girl wondered, looking
uncomfortable by the idea.
“I just think that if the others see someone stand up for themselves, they may
feel inclined to do the same.”
“And if they don't?”
Credence shrugged, then said, “Then I guess you're all here for a reason.”
It was cruel, but it was exactly those words that made the girl stop her work
and look Credence straight in the eye. He could even hear the boy behind him
suck in a sharp breath. Credence met the girl's eye, eyebrows raised, and said,
“Well? Do you deserve to be here, or do you deserve better?”
The girl pursed her lips, her face pinched tightly, and with a huff, she stood
from her table. Those around her gasped and paused their work as well, turning
to look at the girl in shock.
“I don't deserve this.” She declared, voice suddenly loud in the spacious room,
“None of us deserves this!”
“Hey!” The floor manager shouted from across the floor, already fumbling with
his gun, but the girl turned his way without backing down. “Get back to work or
you'll regret it!”
A quiet murmur began to drift over the workers, watching with morbid curiosity
as the guard yanked out his gun and aimed it straight at her. The girl still
didn't waver. She balled her small hands into tight fists, then shouted so loud
her voice practically boomed, “I'd rather die than be treated like a pig!”
Immediately after, the guard pulled the trigger. The room filled with the sharp
scream of multiple workers, including the girl's, but not a single body was
dropped. No one had been shot, because sitting right in front of the guard, the
teenage boy had grabbed his wrists and shoved them into the air.
Credence stood, a fire in his eyes, but this wasn't his fight to lead. The girl
he had spoken to was already climbing onto her desk, kicking off the tools she
had been using for the last two years of her life, and she shouted valiantly,
“Why suffer quietly in Hell when you can fight the one man who stands in our
way of freedom?! There are hundreds of us! And there is only one of him.”
Spurred on by the words of a driven child, the room exploded into chaos. Three
more shots were fired by the officer, but he was overwhelmed and relieved of
his gun before he could do any real damage. A mob of people was holding him
down, some of them even taking the chance to get a few kicks in, and everyone
else took to wrecking the prison they had lived in for the past however many
years. Knocking over tables, destroying the product, one of them even threw a
metal chair halfway across the room.
But with all of this energy, Credence realized they weren't actually doing
anything productive. Taking the reins of this mayhem, Credence hopped onto the
table beside the girl and shouted, “Block the doors! Block the elevator!”
The girl he had convinced first began to chant the words, stomping her feet on
the table as she did so, and soon enough the whole room was chanting it. With a
new directive in mind, they all began to grab the furniture around them,
cluttering up the exits and entrances as best as they could. The ruckus was
bound to attract more attention, so as long as they took control of this floor
before anyone could get in the way, they would be fine.
As the chant went on and the workers continued to revolt, the girl laughed in
delight and shouted out her joy. She turned to Credence and practically threw
herself into his arms, and Credence luckily caught her around the waist.
Grinning, Credence gave the girl a tight squeeze, making sure she knew he was
proud of her bravery, and said, “We'll get out of here. You'll see. We'll be in
the real world again.”
The girl laughed, but tears were rolling down her cheeks now, and she sobbed
out, “I can't wait to go home.”
They held each other tighter, the ruckus of those around them a mere hum of
background noise, all until a loud, intimidating voice cut across the entire
room.
“ENOUGH!” He had shouted, stilling the energy in mere moments as the crowd
stopped and looked up at their main tormentor. Standing at the top of the
rafters, surrounded by men and women with fat guns, was Grindelwald, hands
outstretched and face twisted in a sneer.
Credence felt his breath catch in his throat, and he quickly let go of the girl
in his arms. He thought about running or hiding, but before he could move more
than a foot, Grindelwald was shouting, “Credence!”
He froze, his heart pounding in his ears, and he slowly turned to face the man.
He knees were practically knocking together at the rage he found there, but he
said nothing and moved no more.
Putting his arms down, Grindelwald declared, “Grab the boy. Gas the room.”
What had been a maelstrom of determined rioting turned into a panicked frenzy
as the guards shot fat, smoking canisters into the room. The thicker the white
smoke grew, the faster the screaming turned into choked wheezing and violent
sobbing. Some unlucky few had been struck directly by the canisters,
incapacitating a few and even killing others. Credence felt his eyes and lungs
burn, and suddenly he was hacking up painfully just like everyone else in the
room. He stumbled towards the stairs, trying to get away from the gas, but his
eyes began to sting and water, blurring his vision. Just as he was about
halfway up the stairs, he collapsed, and the officers ordered by Grindelwald to
retrieve him reluctantly picked him up by the arms and dragged him away.
Leading him out of the gassed room, Credence was thrown to the ground in the
hallway where vents were working overtime to filter out the smoke. He collapsed
on the ground in a heap of painful, pitiful coughing, groaning in pain as his
throat and lungs constricted and his eyes continued to blur.
“I can't leave you alone for even a moment, can I?” Grindelwald said as he
stepped closer to the incapacitated boy, the howls and screams of the factory
workers echoing behind him. “You're making my life a lot more difficult, boy.”
 
–---------
 
Newt was sprawled out on the couch, head resting in Percival's lap as the man
read. He had control of the remote and was currently channel surfing, not
finding a single interesting thing on. He heard Percival turn a page in his
book, and with a long sigh, he decided that the news would be more interesting
than anything else.
Who he saw standing behind a podium and giving a speech nearly made him just
shut the television off, but before he could think about it, the man's words
were registering in his mind.
“I understand the reluctance our community has concerning the Thinning and,
more specifically, my part during the mishap only a month before,” Grindelwald
was saying, flanked by two of his guards and wearing all black, just like the
others. His face was the only one unmasked, however, and even seeing it made
Newt's stomach churn uncomfortably.
“I have thought much about the mistakes that were made, and I admit that there
are things that I have not done that allowed such mistakes to happen. After
discussing with my most trusted colleagues and Directors of other states, I
have decided to put a new idea into action.”
With a wide gesture, Grindelwald was suddenly introducing yet another guard,
face masked just like the others, except his armor was detailed with white
trim, making him stand out from the others. “In an effort to retain your
credence in me, I'd like to introduce the newest member of our team; Roscuro.”
A polite applause resounded from the crowd at the meeting, and Roscuro looked
out over them, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Newt slowly sat up, his brow
furrowed at the sight of him. Even Percival had lowered his book to watch.
“Roscuro will serve as a second in command. He will be my second opinion and
will offer an objective point of view. For him to remain genuinely objective,
we have agreed to keep his true identity a secret. He will remain the quiet
observer, and will act when I or any of my men and women, step out of line.”
Grindelwald finished, and the applause came again. Roscuro only dipped his
head, then turned and left the podium with Grindelwald, the two followed by the
guards accompanying them.
“Great,” Percival grunted, looking annoyed, “Another armed brat running around
my school. Where does this madman even get these ideas?”
“How do you know he'll be at Ilvermorny?” Newt asked, looking up at his lover,
and Percival shrugged a single shoulder, turning back to his book.
“That's where Grindelwald likes to lurk. Of course he's going to keep his
lackeys nearby.” He paused for a few moments, then looked back at Newt and
admitted, “It's probably a good thing you aren't going back there next year.
I'm worried about what this Roscuro is going to be like.”
“You'll be safe, though?” Newt asked, not at all prepared to lose yet another
part of his life like he lost Credence, “They won't do anything to you, right?”
“Absolutely not,” Percival reassured him, granting him a soft kiss. A kiss that
they had shared many times over throughout the summer, but had not ventured
past. Neither one of them felt healed enough to put Credence out of their minds
when they got intimate. Percival was certain with the morose experience of an
older man that they would soon get over their loss and may even tuck the memory
of Credence in the furthest depths of their minds, but he was no fool to rush
it. He himself was hurting too much to try and convince Newt to get over it
already.
When they pulled away, Newt simply tucked his head underneath Percival's chin,
enjoying the innocent intimacy. He closed his eyes and stole his warmth,
letting the calm rise and fall of Percival's chest soothe him.
“Have you applied to that school yet?” Percival was asking, his voice itself
the definition of alluring. Newt hummed, smoothly sliding onto Percival's lap
and kissing his neck, trying to feel the vibrations of his voice through his
skin.
“I did. They accepted me already,” Newt muttered, sounding a lot less
enthusiastic than Percival thought he'd be.
“Are you excited?” Percival ventured, placing his hands on Newt's hips and
letting the boy do as he liked.
Newt let out a big sigh, resting his cheek on Percival's shoulder, and he
admitted, “I don't know. I... I don't know what I want anymore.”
Percival frowned, his brow creasing, and he began to rub Newt's back in a
comforting gesture. Silence stretched between them, the two in their own heads,
until Percival finally suggested, “You don't have to go immediately.”
Newt huffed, amused, and said, “I guess, but what would I do instead? Sit here
and wait for you to come home?” He closed his eyes and shook his head, “As much
as I love you, Percival, I'm not going to be your little housewife.”
“I wasn't implying that.” Percival argued, cheeks turning red because he
definitely had been, “I just meant... maybe you can do something other than
school. This is your first year as an adult. No more homework, no more
schedule, no more 10-241... You can do whatever you'd like.”
Newt thought about it, letting his eyes slide open as his mind went through
ideas. If he didn't know what he wanted to do in college, how would he decide
what to do out of it? Honestly, he just wanted to be busy, to get his mind off
of last semester, to let what happened to Credence be just another loss amongst
the five percent. But no matter how hard he tried, somewhere deep in his gut,
he just felt it was... wrong.
“Do you think...” Newt began to ask, but his voice petered off before he could
actually get to the question. They hadn't really talked about Credence, and
Newt wasn't sure if he should even be mentioning it. Much less asking if
Credence might still be alive somehow. But Percival's interest had been piqued,
and after he gave a curious hum, Newt asked, “Do you think... I could work for
you?”
Percival blinked, then smirked at the question. “I wouldn't mind a TA. But you
aren't going to fit under my desk forever.”
Newt gasped and playfully smacked Percival's shoulder, a smile lighting up his
face, and he said, “Mr. Graves! It would be a purely professional
relationship!”
“Professional, hmm?” Percival purred, settling his hands on Newt's thighs and
stroking the flesh, kneading into his muscle, “Are you sure about that, Mr.
Scamander?”
Newt smiled even wider, and he grabbed Percival's hands before he leaned in to
kiss him once more. Even if he was still grieving over Credence, he was happy
he had someone to grieve with.
 
***** School Begins *****
Chapter Summary
     finally, the porn cometh.
With an idea in place for Newt, Percival helped him apply to the school,
managed to pull enough strings to actually get him hired, and then sequestered
Newt's assistance to strictly himself. Ms. Picquery had caught on to what
Percival was doing, but she seemed to turn a blind eye, for at the beginning of
the year, Percival was greeting his newest class with Newt sitting at his own
smaller desk tucked into the corner. Newt was tapping away on his IGlass
listening with one ear as Percival went through the syllabus and his
expectations, and he waved at the class when Percival added, “And if you need
any help ask my assistant, Mr. Scamander.”
Newt shifted nervously, realizing with a churn of his stomach that he was no
older than the kids in this class. His heart thumped angrily in his chest at
the thought, and for a moment, his mind was back to the end of last year, being
walked to the execution halls, and very nearly dying.
And then he thought of Credence's vacant face as he was walked past him, and he
immediately had to shake himself out of the thought.
The day went by as smoothly as the first day of school could go, the students
still having summer on their brain, not at all ready to attempt to retain any
useful information. By the time lunch came around, Newt felt more exhausted
than Percival was, and he had been sitting at his desk the entire time.
Percival went to his own seat, leaning back in the leather with a huff, then
looked over at Newt with a curl of his lips. Newt immediately flushed, and
squawked out a nervous, “Right now?”
“Why not?” Percival asked, tilting his head towards the door, “Go lock it.”
Newt felt a shudder run through his body, and without another thought, he was
getting up from his desk and heading straight for the door. He had his hand on
the doorknob, the other about to twist the lock shut, but then the handle was
being turned on the other side and the door pushed open.
Newt yelped as he scrambled backward, trying not to be struck in the face, and
Percival stood up from his chair.
“Well, hello gentlemen,” Grindelwald chirped out delightedly, stepping further
into the room with his guard Roscuro right behind him. Roscuro looked at Newt
for a long moment, but he didn't say a word and merely moved on, “Please excuse
me, I was just showing my newest officer around the place.”
“You're excused,” Percival grunted, his brow furrowing, waving a hand at them
in a shooing gesture. However, Grindelwald seemed to not understand the
gesture, or he just outright ignored it, and he stepped further into the room.
“What do you think, boy?” Grindelwald purred, putting a hand on Roscuro's
shoulder and giving him a squeeze. The officer didn't answer, didn't even nod,
and Grindelwald gave a low, dark chuckle. Newt noticed the officer's hands were
balled into tight fists, the only thing belying his emotions. Worried, Newt
glanced back up at Percival, wondering what he should do.
“Pardon him, he's awful shy,” Grindelwald was saying to Percival, a smug look
on his face. “Why don't I introduce you two? Roscuro, this is Mr. Percival
Graves and his assistant, Mr. Nathan Coriander.”
Roscuro stood rigidly, his shoulders trembling, but he didn't say anything even
while Newt corrected Grindelwald with a bitter, “It's Newton Scamander.”
Grindelwald gave a non-committal grunt, paying more attention to the tense
officer beside him. “Just think, boy,” Grindelwald spoke in a taunting voice,
“These are the men you're protecting, being here. These are the kind of people
you're serving.” Grindelwald approached Roscuro and placed a firm hand on the
back of his neck, squeezing awkwardly over the thick leather collar there, and
he growled into the officer's ear, “So don't fail.”
Roscuro didn't respond, but his silence seemed that much more daunting than
anything he could have uttered. After a long, tense moment, Grindelwald
released Roscuro and announced to the room, “Well, we should be heading back.
We have more important things to do, after all. Say goodbye, boy.”
Roscuro stared at Grindelwald, not even turning his head to regard the other
two in the room, but Grindelwald didn't seem to care if he listened either way.
Instead, he offered a smile to Percival and Newt, then, with a snap of his
fingers to catch Roscuro's attention, he turned and left the room. Roscuro
hesitated behind him, lingering at the door for just a few seconds longer, and
he glanced behind himself at Percival and Newt silently. Percival crossed his
arms over his chest, and Newt took a few steps closer to the man, putting a
hand on his shoulder. Roscuro's hands squeezed shut, and then he left, closing
the door behind himself.
A beat passed. Newt pressed his lips into a hard line while Percival slowly
relaxed. Carefully, they glanced at one another, silently trying to gauge if
they were the only one confused by the interaction, and as soon as their eyes
met, they both began to laugh nervously.
“What was that about?” Newt asked, stepping even closer to his lover, and
Percival unraveled his arms so he could wrap one around Newt's waist, keeping
him against his side.
“I don't know,” Percival answered honestly, his smile turning to a grimace,
“But I think it might be a good idea to keep our distance from those two.”
Newt snorted, resting his cheek against Percival's shoulder, and he uttered, “I
thought that was a given.”
Percival huffed, squeezing Newt fondly, and agreed with a gentle hum. “Let's
just be especially careful. Okay?”
“Okay,” Newt mumbled, settling his hand over Percival's where it laid over him,
letting his body keep him grounded.
Avoiding the two of them ended up being much easier than the two feared. The
two of them tended to stay within the classroom, only ever stepping out to go
to the restroom or grab a snack. Newt already began to forget about the two of
them, more worried about the flurry of emails he had recently received from not
only the university that he had applied to, but a handful of others, both local
and far away. He was swiping through them with a growing frown as Percival
lectured his class, only peeking up and paying attention when a student asked a
question about the material. Newt felt a little guilty that he wasn't keeping
up with the lesson, but he himself wasn't the one being graded on this material
anymore. Besides, with a simple look at his IGlass, he had more important
things to worry about than the questions of a freshman.
Come lunch, Newt got up from his desk and settled his hip against Percival's,
holding his IGlass aloft and saying, “Listen to this,”
Reading from the screen, Newt announced, “Greylock University extends their
condolences to Newton Scamander, for you have missed the registration period.
We at Greylock believe every student deserves the right to further knowledge,
and implore Mr. Newton Scamander to register immediately for our Spring
semester. Greylock U would like to offer a three thousand dollar grant for Mr.
Newton Scamander if he registers by the end of this month.”
“That's amazing,” Percival said earnestly, and Newt glanced up at Percival
before looking down at his screen.
“But that's not it. I have emails from four other schools, Percival. Listen,”
Newt continued, scrolling along his screen until he opened up the next one.
“Dear Mr. Newton Artemis Scamander. Our administration has reviewed your high
school grades and your scores on the 10-241 and would like to extend a personal
invitation to apply for our Spring semester at Durmstrang University. Apply and
get accepted before the end of the year and we will see to your moving costs
and the cost of tuition for your first three semesters.”
Newt scrolled again, and went on, “To Mr. Newton A. F. Scamander. We at the
Beauxbatons Institute would like to congratulate you for recently graduating
high school and scoring exceptionally well on your 10-241. Please follow the
link below to apply to our institute, and we will gift you a grant of fifteen
hundred dollars and a free living space on campus.”
Scrolling again, Newt added a bit loudly, “Mister Scamander. Koldovstoretz
University is extremely interested. Follow below for a scholarship!”
And then again, louder, “We at Uagadou are extremely interested. Please
consider a grant of forty-five hundred dollars!”
Once again, “The University of the Scotland Highlands are willing to offer a
two-year tuition!”
Finally, Percival threw out a hand, grabbing Newt by the wrist and forcing him
to stop, and with a touch of worry, he asked, “What exactly is so wrong about
this? These international schools are interested in you! You should be
excited!”
“I haven't applied to any of these schools, Percival,” Newt explained, voice
trembling, brows furrowed, “How did they get my information? Why—Why are they
so interested in me all of a sudden?”
“You must have scored well on the 10-241.” Percival tried to soothe, but Newt
wouldn't have it. He placed the IGlass firmly on the desk, hands shaking.
“Universities don't just--just reach out to high school graduates, Percival.
Especially not international ones! And I never got an email like this from
Greylock! Greylock only responded to me when I applied!”
“Newt,” Percival sighed, dipping his head, but now Newt was on a roll.
“I earned the same, if not worse grades this year than I had before!”
“Newton.” Percival groaned, tilting his head back now.
“I barely even think I did much better than anyone else on the bloody
Thinning!”
“Newton!” Percival shouted this time, effectively shutting the boy up in
moments and finally getting his attention. When he was sure Newt's typically
wavering eye contact was going to stay, he asked in a much gentler voice, “Why
is this bothering you?”
Newt opened his mouth to respond, but barely got a word out. It seemed he
himself didn't entirely know, but with the look in his eyes it was obvious that
it wasn't just bothering him, it was getting to him. With a concerned frown,
Percival extended an arm, and Newt took the offer without a second thought. He
dropped into Percival's lap with an exhausted huff, tucking his nose against
the man's neck and wrapping his arms around his thick torso. Graves, meanwhile,
merely settled his arm across Newt's back and began to run his hand up and down
his spine.
“I don't like the schools here, Percival... It feels like someone's just...
pulling the strings.” Newt mumbled, closing his eyes and letting his man soothe
him, “But I don't know any of these schools... I don't know what to do... I
can't go to all of them.”
The more Percival stroked his back, the more relaxed Newt became, until
finally, he was sitting upright again, frowning deeply. “I don't even know what
I want to study anymore, Percival... Last year was just... so much.”
“It's alright to take it one step at a time, Newt.” Percival coaxed him, taking
one of his hands and slowly massaging it, rubbing a firm thumb into the center
of his palm. “Just because they're reaching out to you doesn't mean you have to
make a decision right away. You're still young. You still have time.”
“But what if they retract their offers?” Newt asked, stressed, “What if I
decide to apply and they refuse? What if—What if I mess up?” He took a breath,
then asked quietly, “What if I get accepted somewhere international and have to
leave you behind?”
“Newton,” Percival sighed, offering the young man a gentle smile, “I'm not
going anywhere, do you understand? If you go to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons or
even Uagadou, I'll be right here, waiting for you to get your Masters and come
on back. And if you decide to go to Greylock instead, then I will make sure I
drive down and visit you whenever I can.”
Sighing deeply, Newt glanced back towards the IGlass, obviously worried.
Ultimately, however, he tucked his head against Percival's shoulder and
mumbled, “I wish Credence were here... He could help me decide.”
Percival's smile turned melancholic, and he said, “He would probably go with
you, wherever you decided to go.” Newt smiled at the thought, and he closed his
eyes and relaxed further, trying to find peace in this moment of quiet between
them.
Stalking the halls of the school were only a handful of officers, including
Roscuro and Grindelwald. There was no need to keep a large unit since it was
only the beginning of the school year. There was still plenty of time before
that year's 10-241 was upon them. Until then, all the officers had to do was
ensure the safety of the students. Roscuro took the job seriously, constantly
pacing the halls even during classes, staring down students running late or
making their way to the restrooms. He would randomly stop a few students, and
although he didn't say anything to them, he would check them for their student
ID's, ensure they had hall passes, and if they didn't, he would force them to
upend their bags, making sure no contraband was present. Rumors filled the
school about Roscuro due to his unusually strict behavior, and as Percival's
TA, Newt tended to overhear a lot more than Percival did. Newt, with his youth
and ability to blend into the crowd, managed to overhear conversations that
students would have cut short had a faculty member been near.
One day, while Newt was getting himself a soda from the nearest vending machine
after school, he heard the whispered conversation of a group of students
exiting from the library.
“...then Officer Roscuro grabbed her by the hair and practically threw her
across the hall!” One girl hissed conspiratorially, tucking her books into her
backpack. “He even took out his nightstick and threatened her!”
“Who does he think he is?” One of her friends fumed, but the third clicked her
tongue and rolled her eyes.
“They were fighting. It's his job to step in.” She stated flatly, but her
friends didn't agree.
“He didn't have to grab her like that!” One claimed.
“And was it really necessary to get his nightstick? She's just a teenage girl,
not a wrestler!”
“It's not like he actually beat her up or anything,” The third girl pointed
out, dismissive, “Officers have done a lot worse in this school before.”
Newt turned his head towards them, curious, and the other girls seemed to
hesitantly agree to that statement.
“He didn't have to grab her so roughly,” The first argued still, and they began
to walk away, never noticing Newt by the vending machine, “Officers like him
think they can just control anyone. They need to learn that we're not just
cattle to be poked and prodded at.”
The group of girls turned down the hall as the other two agreed with the first,
and Newt hesitated by the vending machine, thinking about what he had just
heard. It wasn't the first time he had heard of the newest officer threatening
the students in the school, but it was the first time he had heard of them
actually physically assaulting one of them. Sure it was to break up a fight,
but the fact of the matter was that this officer—Roscuro—put his hand on a
youth. The realization of that made Newt furious. Especially considering that
this wasn't the first instance that such a thing had happened, nor, apparently,
the worst.
Forgetting the soda he had paid for, Newt turned away from where the girls had
vanished to and instead made his way towards the security office, a place
Percival and he had agreed to stay away from for obvious reasons. He found
Roscuro there, of course, but what Newt didn't expect was that Roscuro was
alone, sitting behind one of the monitors, scouring through recorded footage as
if he were looking for something. He didn't notice Newt until the redhead
slammed the door shut behind him, and only then did Roscuro turn around, then
jump to his feet.
Newt thought Roscuro might yell at him, demand he leave the office, but Roscuro
didn't speak. He barely even breathed, Newt thought, for he couldn't hear the
familiar drag of breath through the perforated mask. Deciding to not let his
silence get to him, Newt remained determined to confront Roscuro about what he
had heard happened.
“There was a fight, today?” Newt questioned, trying to keep his voice from
wavering and focusing on remaining stoic. Roscuro didn't answer, not even with
a nod of his head. Newt waited longer for an answer, but when it became obvious
he wasn't going to get one, he instead asked, “A fight you broke up?”
Roscuro clenched his hand into a fist. It was the only sort of reaction he had
received. Newt licked his lips anxiously, trying with difficulty to meet the
man's eyes through the glossy black visor of his mask. “The students said you
grabbed that girl. That you hurt her.” Newt explained, brows furrowing, “They
said you pulled her by her hair.”
Slowly, almost hesitantly, Roscuro's fist loosened, then relaxed. Newt glanced
down at it, trying to understand what it could mean. With the silent man
providing no help, Newt continued to say, “I-I don't care what title you have.
If you lay a hand on another student again, I'll.... I'll make sure you pay for
it.”
There was a muffled huff of breath from behind the mask, and it nearly startled
Newt to hear it. It was barely audible, and yet compared to the lack of sound
Roscuro had provided beforehand, it made Newt's heart race in fear.
And then Newt's heart was practically convulsing when Roscuro approached him
with slow, calculated steps. Newt backed away immediately, but the office was
small, and Newt backed himself up against the door, not only pinning himself
there, but trapping himself within the room. He tried to push the door open,
then remembered with a whimper that it swung in.
When Roscuro was standing right in front of him, towering over him in his
silent, intimidating way, he began to lift a gloved hand, making Newt flinch
backward. Roscuro paused, waiting for Newt to relax, then resumed bringing his
hand up, until his fingertips were just brushing against Newt's jaw. Newt
jerked again, expecting to be hit, expecting some sort of backlash, but Roscuro
only stroked his face, from the bottom of his ear down to the point of his
chin. At the gentle touch, Newt slowly turned his gaze back at the visor of
Roscuro's mask, trying to see through it, trying to determine just what was
going through this man's mind.
And then he spoke. It was only a word, though. Only a soft whisper of “Newt,”
before Roscuro suddenly jerked away, choking wetly and convulsing where he
stood, as if he were being electrocuted from the inside. Newt watched dumbly,
unsure what was happening in front of him, and he jumped out of the way when
Roscuro suddenly collapsed in a gasping heap on the ground, body trembling with
aftershocks.
“O-oh my God,” Newt wheezed, hands flailing aimlessly in the air, and then he
was dropping down beside Roscuro, rolling him onto his back and going to check
his pulse. In order to do so, Newt had to grab Roscuro by the collar and tear
open the turtle-necked material, exposing a fat, leather collar with a strange,
box-shaped device pressed right into his throat.
“What?” Newt whispered, momentarily frozen by the unexpected device, but
Roscuro didn't seem concerned about whatever it was he wore around his neck.
Instead, his head lolled to the side and a low groan came from him, followed by
another debilitating bout of convulsing, gagging, and choking. Newt watched on
in horror, scared that Roscuro was having a series of seizures, if maybe the
device on his neck, now blinking red, was supposed to be stopping them and
failing. He didn't know what to do in such a case, and when the convulsing
ceased, Newt gasped out, “I-I'm going to get help.”
He was just getting a foot underneath him when Roscuro snatched his wrist in
his hand, stalling Newt for a few, panting moments, and then Roscuro's group
loosened and slipped completely, dropping to the floor as he fell unconscious.
“Bugger! Shit!” Newt huffed, getting to his feet anyways and exiting the
security office in a rush, running down the hall to get a nurse, a faculty
member, another officer, just anyone to help him with the fainted man. In his
panic, he ran right into an unsuspecting man, and barely waited two moments
before he grabbed the man by the arm and blurted, “S-someone fainted—one of the
officers—needs help—!”
Newt froze when the man turned, the mismatched yet familiar eyes of Grindelwald
staring down at him, and he immediately let go of his arm. Still, Grindelwald
continued to leer, and Newt took a few steps backward just in case. There was
no time to be afraid of this person. A man could be dying.
“O-One of your officers collapsed in the security room!” Newt explained. When
Grindelwald's eyes narrowed, Newt added desperately, “Roscuro—He's
unconscious!”
Almost immediately, Grindelwald's eyes widened, and he stepped around Newt to
march quickly down the halls. Newt followed after him, heart racing and mind
overrun with worry--what if they were too late? What if Roscuro had choked to
death? What if the seizures were a symptom of something worse? When they
approached the open door of the office, however, Grindelwald and Newt found
Roscuro sitting up on the floor, propped up against the desk with his shaking
hands trying to button the collar of his coat back up. He looked up when
Grindelwald barked out, “Roscuro,” and immediately scrambled to his feet.
“Don't get up, you might collapse again!” Newt rushed to say, lunging forward
to force Roscuro back down onto the ground, but Grindelwald grabbed the small
man by the back of his shirt and threw him backward, uncaring that Newt was
knocked off-balance and landed hard on his backside.
“No--!” Roscuro spoke again, only to immediately seize up again, muscles gone
tight and body thrashing. He collapsed once more to his knees, and
Grindelwald's worry immediately vanished in lieu of anger.
“Ah,” Grindelwald spoke up, disappointed and uncaring of Roscuro's trembling
form, trying to suppress each gag that wracked him. “I see now what had
happened. You tried breaking our little agreement, didn't you?”
Newt watched with a pained wince as Roscuro shook his head desperately, still
panting heavily, still suffering from the seizures that had overwhelmed him.
Grindelwald began to pace around his prone form, hands clutched together behind
his back as he said, “You're lying to me. You tried to betray me.”
Again, Roscuro shook his head, arms trembling as he held himself up. Newt bit
back his tongue for only a moment longer before declaring loudly, “Leave him
alone, he's just had a seizure! He needs to go to the hospital!”
Grindelwald looked up at Newt, brows lifted as if he had forgotten the redhead
was there. He regarded Newt with a long look, then crouched down long enough to
grab Roscuro by the arms and force him up onto his feet. Even though Roscuro
swayed dangerously to and fro, Grindelwald uttered, “Let's take this
conversation somewhere away from prying eyes.”
Newt fumed, pushing himself back to his feet, and demanded, “Take this man to
the hospital now, Grindelwald!”
Weakly, Roscuro groaned, unable to balance himself on his own two feet, but
Grindelwald only sneered at Newt and tugged him forward, keeping a hand on his
arm in order to keep him relatively steady.
“Stop sticking your nose in other people's business, Ned. It'll get you in a
lot of trouble one of these days.” Grindelwald threatened, shoving past Newt
and forcing Roscuro to walk forward.
“You bloody idiot!” Newt shouted as the two of them walked away, “If he dies,
you'll be responsible!” When that didn't get him to stop, Newt angrily
corrected, “And my name is Newt!”
Still, Grindelwald and Roscuro walked down the halls, Roscuro worse for wear.
When they were gone from Newt's sight, the redhead clenched his jaw tight and
tried to settle his anger. The more the anger left him, however, the more
confused he became.
Roscuro was a mystery, a man Newt, nor anyone, knew about. He was obviously
sickly if the convulsions were anything to go by, which was strange in itself
considering he was an officer. Newt never thought Americans would hire someone
so dangerously ill for a job as taxing and physically demanding as this.
Recalling what he had seen Roscuro doing before he had caught his attention,
Newt turned his attention back towards the security office, the door hanging
open still. He peeked up and down the hallway, ensuring he was the only one
there, then slipped inside the office, quietly closing and locking the door
behind him. He even made sure to close the shades to the window peeking inside.
Alone in the office, Newt turned to the monitor glowing in front of him. There
were a series of cameras currently on the screen, the footage from each
displaying a crowded school, with students walking through the halls as they
headed towards the canteen. Newt's brows furrowed, and he lowered himself into
the seat Roscuro had left. He rewound the footage, watching as students walked
backward in quick succession, the halls emptying and classrooms filling up
until only officers were left stalking the halls. Newt resumed playing the
footage, looking over the displayed cameras, wondering what exactly, Roscuro
had been looking for. He watched for a minute, then for two, and then a door
opened in one of the empty halls and Newt watched in surprise as he himself
stepped out of the classroom, walking quickly down the halls and towards the
restrooms.
He recalled this happening, although it had been a week since. He was assisting
the students with an experiment when it blew up in their faces. It wasn't
harmful, not at all, but it had the tendency to stain skin, and all of the
students were using the sinks in the class. Newt had rushed out and made his
way to the faculty bathroom nearby in order to clean himself up. Newt didn't
understand why Roscuro was watching a week old recording, especially one that
had Newt in it, he couldn't explain. Then, only ten seconds after Newt turned
down the hall from Percival's classroom, a figure stepped into the camera's
view and followed him.
Newt blinked, rewound the tapes again, then played it once more. The figure
hadn't been spotted in the footage from the hallway they came from, but the
cameras along the path to the faculty bathroom did. The figure, dressed in a
black coat popular amongst the faculty and a wide-brim hat, walked calmly down
the halls, following Newt at a distance, with their head turned down and their
hands in their pockets. When Newt used his faculty badge to open the bathroom
and stepped inside, the figure approached the door, tested the knob, then
continued to walk when they found it locked.
The figure walked out of the view of one camera, but never appeared in the
next. Newt didn't know what it meant. Newt didn't know who it could have been.
Percival would have still been in the classroom, and even if he had followed
Newt, he had his own faculty card to unlock the bathroom. He wouldn't have
given up after one attempt. Rewinding the footage one last time, Newt watched
again as he stepped out of Percival's classroom, walked quickly down the hall,
and was unknowingly tailed by a figure in dark clothes that seemed to appear
from nowhere and vanish all the same.
Newt paused the footage just as the figure stepped around the corner, eyes
catching a glimpse of pale yellow just underneath the hat.
Newt jerked upright when his phone suddenly chimed with a new message. Sliding
the device from his pocket, Newt cursed when he saw it was simply Percival,
inquiring where he had gone to. He had only left to grab a soda. He had been
gone for far too long, now.
Deciding that he was thinking too much about the situation, Newt stepped out of
the security office, hurried back to the vending machine he had gone to
initially, grabbed his drink, and made his way back to Percival's classroom.
“Sorry, I'm sorry,” He said as he entered the room, smiling at Percival when
the man gave him a disapproving look.
“It's been a month, Newt. You can't possibly have gotten lost again.” Percival
claimed, and Newt laughed lightly.
“I just start thinking sometimes and I lose track of where I'm going,” Newt
offered, seating himself atop Percival's desk and cracking open his soda,
immediately taking a sip. Percival hummed and placed his hands on Newt's
thighs, tugging at them until they were parted, hanging down on either side of
Percival's chair.
“And what do you think of?” Percival questioned, stroking Newt's thighs until
the boy was smiling behind his can of soda.
“Just things,” Newt said teasingly, letting his gaze wander. His mind also
began to wander, and he found himself thinking about Roscuro once again. He
didn't realize he had been silent for far too long until Percival was pinching
his side, making him jolt and glare at the man.
“You're a mile away, Newt,” Percival stated, brows furrowed and concern in his
dark eyes, “What's on your mind?”
Newt wondered if he should mention Roscuro. He didn't think Percival would be
particularly happy about it, not after they had agreed to do their best to stay
away from him and Grindelwald. He wondered if Percival would even care that
Roscuro had been convulsing so violently, or that Newt had seen strange footage
of a blond stranger following him during school hours. In the end, Newt decided
against being honest, and merely told Percival, “I think I'm going to apply for
Durmstrang.”
When Percival lifted a brow, Newt explained, “They have a very good online
course. So I don't have to go all the way to Scandinavia. I'll be able to stay
here for a little bit longer. Besides, they have a very interesting social
science course.”
“Social science?” Percival frowned, put off, “You want to be a politician?”
Clicking his tongue, Newt stated, “I want to be a sociologist. Learn about
society. What makes the masses decide on the things they do, the laws they put
in place...”
“The methods they use to cull their five percent?” Percival gathered, and Newt
gave him a guilty look.
“The 10-241 doesn't have to exist.” Newt muttered, putting his soda aside, then
sliding down into Percival's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck, “Maybe if
I study sociology, I'll be able to get rid of it. Replace it with something
else.”
Percival sighed through his nose, settling his hands on Newt's hips, and said,
“Something that will target a different group of people and kill them instead?”
Newt pouted, but he didn't respond. Percival didn't particularly want him to.
It was dangerous thinking in a society like theirs. Percival thought they
should feel lucky that the culling was based strictly on intelligence, and not
something as unreliable as mental health or age. He didn't bother bringing it
up, however. If he mentioned Britain's own culling methods, he was almost
certain Newt would only grow angry.
“We've spent too long here,” Percival then decided, leaning in and kissing Newt
on the lips, “Let's go home and have dinner. We can talk more about Durmstrang
then.”
Sighing, Newt muttered, “Okay,” And got off of Percival's lap, allowing the man
on his feet.
It was in Percival's car that Newt received an email. Taking out his IGlass, he
opened up the newest email in his queue and read an email from Greylock with a
vague curiosity.
“Huh,” Newt vocalized, catching Percival's attention.
“What is it?” He prompted, and Newt slowly scrolled down the email, continuing
to read.
“Greylock emailed me,” Newt supplied distantly, still reading. A few more
seconds of silence, and then Newt said, “They changed their offer.”
“What to?” Percival hummed, glancing over at the man, frowning when he saw
Newt's brows raise in surprise.
“They—They want to give me a full ride.” He said, breathless, and his head
snapped up, looking at Percival, “They're offering to pay for the whole thing!
Books, living arrangements—everything!”
“What?” Percival said, smiling, “You can't be serious!”
“I am!” Newt laughed, dropping his phone in his lap so he could cover his face,
disbelieving, “A-and Greylock has online classes as well! Not as many as
Durmstrang, b-but I won't have to leave immediately!”
“And their courses?” Percival prompted, and Newt immediately began to nod.
“Best social science course in the country!” Newt declared, beaming, “This
is—This is impossible!”
“It seems like Greylock doesn't want to lose you,” Percival remarked with a
grin, and Newt laughed aloud. “So? What do you think?”
“I—I... I have to!” Newt gasped, picking up his phone again, “They're offering
me a full ride, Percival! How can the other schools beat that?”
“By offering their own full rides?” Percival suggested, and Newt affixed him
with a flat look.
“They could offer me a mansion in their country. But they wouldn't be able to
offer you a car trip away.” Newt said, a bit shyly, and Percival did a double-
take, as if to make sure Newt wasn't kidding.
“Newt,” He said a bit breathlessly, actually feeling touched by the sentiment.
“I.... don't know what to say.”
With a smile, Newt said pleasantly, “You can say you'll visit me whenever you
can when I do end up on campus,” He suggested, leaning across the console to
give Percival a kiss on the cheek, “And you can say that you'll keep your guest
room open for me whenever I have a holiday?”
“Newton Scamander,” Percival tutted, and Newt only smiled wider, “Guest room?
Really? The second you come to visit, I'm keeping you in my bed.”
The good news lasted all throughout dinner, and when they went upstairs to get
a bit of shut-eye, Newt gave Percival a long, deep kiss, and whispered into
Percival's ear, “I'm excited... I'm glad you told me to wait.”
“Are you going to register, then?” Percival asked sleepily, wrapping his arms
around Newt's body, pulling him tight to his chest.
“I think so.” Newt hummed, running his hand up and down Percival's side,
playing with the fabric of his shirt, “I... I can't believe this is happening.
A full ride.”
“It's exciting,” Percival agreed. Then, with a sly tug to his lips, he added,
“I know how much you love a good riding.”
Silence stretched for a heavy moment, and while Percival expected Newt to
playfully shove him or call him perverted, he certainly didn't expect Newt to
push himself up on his hands, then settle himself down atop Percival's lap. In
that moment, Percival's sleepiness vanished, and he looked up at Newt with a
keen gaze, one that Newt calmly returned.
“We... haven't been together for a while.” Newt mentioned softly, stroking his
hands up and down Percival's chest, dragging his shirt with them. Percival
settled his own hands on Newt's thighs, feeling the warmth of his body through
his sleeping shorts, “... I miss you.”
“I didn't want to rush anything....” Percival tried to explain, and Newt smiled
down at him, appreciative.
“Thank you,” He said, genuinely, “But... I think enough time has passed. Don't
you?”
“Yes,” Percival breathed. He would have been stupid to refuse, especially with
Newt already straddling him, already touching Percival's chest, stroking him
through his shirt as if he wouldn't dare to take his hands off of him. Slowly,
Newt lowered himself until they were chest to chest, Percival's hands sliding
to Newt's backside and giving him a firm squeeze. Newt pressed a soft kiss to
Percival's lips, eyes sliding shut as he did so, and he smiled when Percival
freely returned it. Percival allowed Newt to set the pace, and as soon as Newt
realized that he was in control of the situation, he planned to ruin Percival's
patience.
Without a second thought, Newt began to rock against Percival's lap, grinding
down on Percival's groin, not letting up until the man beneath him was
breathing heavily and growing stiff. With a small smile, Newt pressed a few
fleeting kisses along Percival's jawline, proceeding to slide a hand in between
their bodies and underneath the waistband of Percival's sleeping pants.
“Did you miss me too?” Newt whispered, giving Percival a firm squeeze that made
the man's breath shudder. With a soft laugh, Newt lifted his hips from
Percival's lap to give himself enough space to stroke him, and he teased, “It
feels like you might have.”
“I did,” Percival panted, tilting his head back. Newt pressed his thumb to the
head of Percival's cock, rubbing in firm, little circles until Percival was
groaning. “So much.”
“What did you miss the most?” Newt asked, pushing Percival's shirt up with his
other hand, baring his chest, which he proceeded to kiss and nibble at. “My
mouth?”
He slid down Percival's body, leaving in his wake a series of wet tongue-
kisses, following the line of muscle along his stomach. When he got to
Percival's pelvis, he took a deep breath, taking in Percival's scent, his
arousal, before he trailed his kisses up Percival's length. When he reached the
tip, he swirled his tongue around it once, then sank down on him, giving a lewd
slurp the further he went. Percival sighed in pleasure, a hand going down to
stroke Newt's hair, gently urging him to take more of him. His touch remained
gentle, even as Newt began to slowly bob his head, saliva dripping down his
length with every stroke of his tongue.
Newt moaned softly, and Percival echoed the sound softly, closing his eyes and
enjoying the feeling of Newt's wet mouth squeezing tight around him. When Newt
wrapped his fingers around the base of Percival's cock and began to stroke,
Percival whispered out his name and just barely restrained himself from
thrusting up.
Slowly, almost tantalizingly, Newt pulled off of Percival's cock with a wet
slurp, his tongue lingering on the head for two more licks, and then he began
pumping Percival with his fist in long strokes, squeezing his fingers just
underneath the head, then pulling back down again. Looking up at Percival, Newt
asked in a roughened voice, “Will you be gentle with me? It's been so long...”
Percival offered Newt a smirk, then pointed out, “I fucked your throat the same
day you gave me your first blowjob. I don't think I need to be too gentle.”
Newt blushed at the reminder, and he gave Percival a disapproving look,
although he couldn't keep the smile from his mouth. “That was my mouth, not my
body.” He kissed Percival's pelvis, then said gently, “I just want to make sure
you're going to stretch me out well.”
Humming, Percival tucked one arm behind his head, then crooked his fingers at
Newt in a come-hither motion. “Come sit on my hand and I'll stretch you out as
much as you'd like.”
Smiling, Newt pulled away from Percival's cock, but instead of climbing up to
sit on his hand like ordered, Newt slid off the bed and began rummaging through
the bedside table, finding a long-forgotten bottle of lubricant. He passed the
bottle over to Percival, who methodically poured a handful of lube into his
palm, working the sloppy liquid over and between his fingers. Meanwhile, Newt
was pulling his clothes off one piece at a time, letting his sleep-shirt fall
to the floor first, then his pants and boxers soon after. Once nude, Newt
climbed back onto the bed and made his way over Percival's body, although he
straddled his abdomen backward, giving Percival a nice view of the expanse of
his back.
“Now that's unfair,” Percival remarked playfully, using his dry hand to spread
Newt's ass, loving the sight more than he was letting on, “I don't get to see
your handsome face when you come?”
Newt huffed and shook his little ass, saying cockily, “You get to look at this,
don't you?” Percival responded with a tut and slapped a hand firmly against his
backside, making Newt yelp delightedly.
“Naughty,” Percival chuckled, stretching him apart once more, then sinking his
first finger inside of Newt's ass, making sure he went slow and gentle, working
his finger in and out until it sank down to the second knuckle. Newt sighed,
rolling his head back and slowly rocking his hips, then he dipped down, bending
over at the waist, and took Percival back in his mouth. Percival grunted in
surprise, barely suspecting the boy to be so bold, but he wasn't going to
question him.
As promised, Percival took his time to work Newt open. Even when he felt loose
around one finger, Percival didn't add another. Instead, he pushed his finger
in as deep as he could, massaging him gently from the inside, stroking every
last bit of him that he could reach with just one finger. Newt seemed to
reciprocate the gentleness, leaving kitten-licks along Percival's shaft,
kissing and slurping at the tip of his cock. He played his fingers against
Percival's sack, rubbing and fondling him. When Percival finally did press in a
second finger, Newt moaned breathily against his skin, then ducked his head
further to suck and lick at the base of his dick, squeezing a hand and working
it in short strokes around the head.
“Damn,” Percival breathed, watching as his fingers sink into Newt's body, then
slide back out, the lubricant glossy on his freckled skin. He couldn't see much
of anything else from Newt except for his back, shoulders, and hair, which
bobbed slowly with every long lick he gave. “I really did miss this...” He
spread his fingers as wide as he could as they were buried deep in Newt's ass,
and Newt whined, his thighs trembling the wider he was stretched.
“P-Percival...” Newt gasped, sucking in a sharp breath when Percival relented.
Smirking, Percival resumed the slow in-and-out of his fingers, but as soon as
Newt resumed his own attention to Percival's dick, he pressed in deep and
stretched him again, and Newt choked on Percival's cock as he struggled to
moan. Percival cackled almost cruelly, relaxed his fingers and pulled them out,
then pressed in a third alongside them. Newt yanked away from Percival's
erection, shuddering a gasp and twitching his hips backward. Percival worked
his fingers slowly, keeping them pressed together, getting Newt comfortable to
the stretch.
“Okay?” Percival asked gently, trying to ignore the way the squelch made his
cock twitch. Newt panted hotly on Percival's pelvis, still holding onto his
cock.
“Yes,” He whispered, swallowing back a whine, “S'good.”
“Ready?” Percival then asked, licking his lips, and Newt jerked backward once
more, moaning.
“I—I think so...” He said, peeking back at Percival, and the man pressed his
fingers in twice more before pulling out completely.
“Are you going to face me this time?” Percival asked while Newt pushed himself
up and began to re-position himself. Newt smiled down at Percival, indeed
turning around so he could meet his eye.
Sitting on his hips, Newt asked, “Is this better?” and he took Percival's
wandering hands as approval. Newt plucked the bottle of lube from beside
Percival, pouring some in his hands then reaching behind himself so that he
could spread it along Percival's cock.
“Mm... both sights are gorgeous,” Percival complimented, letting Newt slick him
up while he felt up Newt's body, massaging his thighs, his abdomen, his hips.
“But I love your eyes on me.”
Newt snorted at that, disbelieving, and remarked, “Which is why you prefer me
tucked under your desk.” He lifted himself from Percival's body, holding
Percival still, then slowly began to sink down on him. His breath caught at the
pressure, his eyelids fluttering shut, and Percival held him by the hips to
help him sink down slowly. Halfway down, Newt pulled back up, then resumed his
descent, gritting his teeth.
“Tight...” Percival breathed, watching as Newt got comfortable sitting on his
lap, split wide on Percival's cock. He massaged Newt's hips, and he kept his
eyes on the man's face, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Newt panted, giving himself a few quick strokes, probably to take the
edge off the pain. Percival continued to massage him, feeling a little bad,
wondering if he should have been more patient with the prep. But then Newt was
tilting his head back and, with a heavy breath, moaned out, “God, I forgot how
good this was...”
“Don't forget about me,” Percival said, smirking when Newt blinked his eyes
open and looked down at him in surprise.
“Oh, right.” He said playfully, lifting his hips, then slowly bringing them
down again, “Sorry. Guess I got distracted.”
Chuckling, Percival threatened, “I swear, Newt, if you start thinking about
college--”
“I'm not!” Newt gasped, bringing his hips down harder as if to prove his point.
He leaned forward a little more, putting his hands on Percival's shoulders, and
continued to rock his hips before asking in a breathless voice, “Do you think
Greylock dorms are co-ed?”
Percival all but growled, and he grabbed Newt by the thighs and tossed them
around, getting a shriek from his boy as he turned the tables on him. Once Newt
had hit the mattress, the redhead began to laugh from the thrill. Percival
covered his mouth with a hand, but Newt's giggles still came through, even when
Percival began to thrust into him with no remorse. From under his hand, Newt's
laughter turned to giggling moans, and his legs wrapped tightly around
Percival's waist, heels digging into his bottom.
Percival groaned right into Newt's ear, the hand clamped down on Newt's mouth
tightening, and he questioned in a dark voice, “You really think I'd let my boy
sleep in the same room as some stranger? Look at you, cruel boy. No one can
resist something as gorgeous as you.”
Pulling away from Newt's mouth, Percival instead grabbed the boy by a handful
of hair and questioned, “Do you think they'll just let you be? No, they'll put
their hands all over you, won't they? Would you like that? Being fucked by a
stranger?”
“No—o...” Newt moaned, his body throbbing around Percival, clamping down
tightly on him, spurring the man to drill into him harder. Tangling his own
fingers in Percival's hair, Newt panted out, “Only want you....”
“You say that now,” Percival huffed, tugging Newt's hand from his hair so he
could sit up on his knees. Holding Newt by his thighs, he put his back into
each thrust, making Newt and the bed bounce with each rough jolt. “Wait 'til
you find some handsome boy your age. You'll be away from me for so long. You
won't be able to last.”
Newt bit down on his bottom lip, whining pitifully, and he reached down to
touch himself, pumping himself fast and tight. “I won't,” He claimed, eyes
dazed and voice jumping in pitch with Percival's motions, “I'll—I'll buy—a-
a toy.”
“Oh yeah?” Percival smirked, loving the way Newt was squirming, loving the
words he was speaking, “Will you call me often? Take pictures and videos?”
“God, yes,” Newt gasped, tossing his head back, thighs trembling and cock
leaking. He was so close, Percival could feel it, but Newt was holding himself
back, trying to drag it out. “So many videos... One every day...”
“Mmm... I'll have to watch each and every one to get me through the semester,”
He thrust once, twice more, and knew he was going to come himself. He reached
between them, wrapping his hand around Newt's which was still frantically
tugging on his cock, and added more pressure, making the boy cry out and
burst, spilling hot spend over their hands and his hips.
“God—Percival!” Newt moaned, entire body rigid until the last of his arousal
was squeezed out of him. Percival gave a handful more thrusts, gritting his
teeth and chasing his pleasure, and he buried himself in the boy as deep as he
could go before he came, filling him up, weaning out a few final whimpers. As
soon as he was spent, Percival slowly began to pull out, and Newt let out an
overstimulated whimper before they disconnected. Newt's legs fell from
Percival's hips, his chest still heaving with each breath. Percival dropped
onto the bed beside him, trying to catch his own breath. He turned to look at
Percival, and Percival looked right back at him.
Still breathless, Newt said, “You know I'm not going to leave you like that,
Percival...”
The man didn't respond immediately, but the smile on his face made Newt think
that he was reassured to hear such a thing. Newt scooted himself closer to
Percival, curling up against his side, and placed a soft kiss on his lips
before whispering, “I love you.”
Percival sighed through his nose, returned the kiss, and responded, “I love you
too, in a way.”
Newt smiled. It didn't bother him. He already knew Percival wouldn't ever love
him like he loved Credence, and Newt was just fine with that. They were in
love, that was all that mattered.
They were in love, even if it didn't feel entirely the same without Credence.
 
***** Demasked...ish *****
Chapter Summary
     Threesome time
     until Newt fucks it up lol
A few days later, Newt ran into Roscuro again. It was during class. Percival
had told Newt to walk an ill student to the nurse's office then come back, and
he had just stepped back into the hallway when he spied the familiar mask and
armor set. Without thinking much of it, Newt quickly approached the man.
“Roscuro!” He called out, catching the officer's attention. Roscuro faltered
when he saw just who was approaching him, but he remained still, allowing Newt
to come close all the same. As soon as they were side-by-side, Newt asked him,
“A-are you feeling okay?”
Roscuro didn't answer. Newt licked his lips and didn't let it demoralize him.
Instead, he said, “Your seizures looked bad. You should really think about
seeing a doctor, you know.”
When Roscuro stilldidn't answer, Newt pressed his lips into a firm line and
said stubbornly, “Well, I can tell this doesn't matter much to you. Sorry for
worrying.”
Angrily, Newt attempted to storm past Roscuro, but his hand was caught before
he could get far and he was turned back around, looking Roscuro in the eye—or
rather, the visor. He didn't know what sort of expression Roscuro was wearing,
if he were touched by Newt's worry or annoyed by it, but the gentle way Roscuro
held his hand, the minute press of his thumb against Newt's palm, it felt
soothing. Reassuring. Appreciative. Newt thought he was nuts, assuming there
were feelingsbeing passed through a simple touch.
Beginning to understand—even if it is just slightly—Newt asked Roscuro, “You...
are doing better, aren't you?”
A gentle squeeze to his hand, lasting a good few seconds before relaxing, and
Newt felt his shoulders slump in relief. He took a step closer to him, offering
him a timid smile, and he said in a genuine tone, “Good. I'm glad.”
He could hear the soft intake of breath beneath the mask, could feel the
quivering in Roscuro's hand, which he stilled by squeezing in return.
Emboldened, Newt admitted, “You know... I thought you officers were people to
be afraid of, but... you're not so bad, are you?” And then, with a slight
laugh, Newt amended, “Well, you may be the outlier, I suppose.”
Another soft squeeze from Roscuro and Newt was laughing in earnest now, asking
in an amused tone, “Oh, so you agree with me? That's a first.”
And then, all at once, Newt seemed to remember that their hands were entwined,
and he shyly let go of him. “You... probably have to get to work.” He flushed,
then added, “I have to get to work.”
For a masked, emotionless, voiceless man, Roscuro somehow seemed regretful.
Newt tugged nervously at his own shirt, twisting it up first, then smoothing it
out, before telling Roscuro, “I... I would like to see you again. Like this, I
mean. Without Grindelwald breathing down your neck or... work getting in the
way.”
Roscuro lowered his head, and Newt admitted, “I—I know it wouldn't be easy.
But... You seem nice.” Clearing his throat, Newt asked, “N-not because you
can't talk, or anything. I mean... unless you're only nice because you can't
tell me to shut up... You... probably think I'm annoying.”
Roscuro went tense, and in his inability to speak, he expressed his blatant
denial by stomping his foot on the floor, the noise startling Newt and echoing
loudly down the hall. Roscuro reached out, grabbing Newt by the shoulder in a
firm grip, but did nothing else. His other hand, hanging by his side, squeezed
into a tight fist.
Newt held his breath, misreading his aggression, and breathlessly requested,
“P-please don't hit me. I-I'm rather unused to it—I fear I might collapse.”
Irritated, Roscuro stomped his foot once more, although this time it was
softer, less noisy. His grip on Newt's shoulder remained strong, but his other
hand began to creep up, fingers brushing against Newt's jaw, an intimate sort
of touch. Newt jolted, but he stared at Roscuro in silent surprise, unsure what
he should be doing or interpreting this as.
And then, all at once, Roscuro was pulling away. He tapped a finger against the
back of his wrist, indicating time, then pointed to himself, then the hall.
Newt blinked, putting it together quickly in his head, and began to nod before
whispering, “Okay... I... I'll see you around this time here some day. S-soon.
Yeah?”
Roscuro nodded, then made a shooing gesture, and Newt went bright red when he
realized how much time he took.
“Oh, bugger, Percival's going to wonder what happened to me!” He cursed,
turning around and taking off, only pausing to call back, “B-bye!”
The month passed quickly. Newt enrolled in classes at Greylock, and received a
handful of emails from the other universities, ensuring Newt knew that their
offers were still on the table. Newt paid them no mind. He had his heart set on
Greylock, if not for the sociology course, but for the distance to Percival's
home. In order to remain near Percival for just a bit longer, though, he only
enrolled in online classes. That meant he could finish the year at the high
school, working as Percival's TA.
He wondered if he should tell Theseus that he had gotten a full ride. They
hadn't spoken to each other since their argument. Theseus never tried to reach
out to him, so Newt put the thought out of his mind. If Theseus wasn't
interested in bridging the gap between them, then Newt wouldn't put in the
effort either. As he waited for the spring semester to start, Newt focused on
his work for Percival, focused on rekindling their recently rediscovered sexual
relationship, and remained under the radar of the on-campus officers.
Well, all but one officer.
After making sure Roscuro had recovered fine from his seizures, he and Newt
seemed to create a strange sort of friendship. They didn't intentionally seek
each other out, but when Newt was given an excuse, he would purposefully go
down the hall he knew Roscuro would be in. They crossed paths more often now,
typically during classes or after school. Newt never knew if Roscuro was always
looking at him, but he offered the officer a smile all the same. Sometimes
Roscuro would nod his head. Sometimes he would lift a hand in a brief wave.
Sometimes he didn't respond at all. Newt didn't let it get to him.
They were only ever together for an extended period of time when Newt ran off
to the faculty restrooms during class, which hardly happened. Yet, whenever he
was done, it seemed like Roscuro was there, just making his rounds down that
very same hall. Newt smiled his way, Roscuro would nod, and then Newt would
fall into step beside the officer, and Roscuro would end up walking him back to
Percival's class. As they walked, Newt would prattle on about the first thing
that came to mind. Whatever Percival was teaching that day, what Newt thought
of the other officers at the school, what Newt was going to have for lunch.
Once, while they walked together, Newt found himself talking about Greylock.
“They offered me a full ride, you know.” Newt found himself bragging, only to
immediately follow up with, “I don't really know why—it's not like I applied
for that sort of scholarship. As far as I know, my grades have been average, at
best.” Newt huffed, looking at Roscuro, who was facing forward, like always,
“But I'm really excited, anyways. I'm just doing a few online courses, and then
I'm going to move down there for summer so that I can attend classes in the
fall.”
Roscuro tilted his head towards Newt, and the redhead added sullenly, “It's
going to be so lonely, though. I don't know anyone around Greylock U. I barely
made any friends here when I was in school.” Then, Newt looked at Roscuro, and
he asked, “Did you go to school here?”
Roscuro turned to look at Newt completely, neither nodding nor shaking his
head, and Newt grimaced before saying, “Oh yeah. You're supposed to be
anonymous. I guess that wouldn't work so well if people knew where you went to
school.” Roscuro faced forward again, and Newt let out a long, heavy sigh.
“I know you don't talk much, but... Why are you working as an officer?” Newt
found himself asking, just as they were drawing close to the hallway Percival's
class was. “Do you really believe the 10-241 is the best way to cull the five
percent every year?”
At that, Roscuro stopped walking, so Newt stopped walking as well. They faced
each other, Roscuro's expression hidden by the mask, but only silence stretched
between them. Newt felt his heart skip at the tense air between them, wondering
if maybe he had misspoken, if maybe he was stepping out of line. He knew
officers were allowed to inflict corporal punishment on the students if
necessary, but he didn't know if that meant the faculty was particularly out of
their reach. Slowly becoming more afraid, Newt began to take a step back, then
nearly jumped out of his skin when Roscuro snatched his wrist in his hand,
holding him in place.
“I-I'm sorry—forget I said anything,” Newt begged, struggling briefly when
Roscuro began to pull him close. The officer didn't stop until Newt was nearly
pressed right up against his chest, and though Newt squirmed and tugged in his
grip, his attempts at actually escaping weakened. Newt didn't realize what was
happening until Roscuro was turning Newt around and pinning him bodily to the
brick wall. Newt felt his breath catch, his eyes wide and his heart racing.
Keeping one hand on Newt's wrist, Roscuro brushed his fingers along Newt's jaw,
the gesture intimate and familiar. Newt found himself turning his head towards
the touch, eyes fluttering, although he kept them opened and trained at the
tinted visor in front of him. When Roscuro's hand left his face, Newt didn't
know what he was going to do, especially when he slotted a finger in between
the visor and the mask covering the bottom half of his face.
With bated breath, Newt watched as Roscuro removed the mask from in front of
his mouth, revealing a gorgeous, plush set of blood-red lips on ghostly-pale
skin.
“Roscuro,” Newt tried to whisper, but he barely got a syllable out before
Roscuro was dipping down and catching his mouth in a hot kiss. Newt responded
immediately, free hand clutching the strap to the bullet-proof vest Roscuro
wore, eyes sliding shut and lips parting almost as soon as Roscuro licked
against them.
The taste of him was strangely addicting. A sort of familiar tinge to it that
had Newt melting against Roscuro's lithe body, made bulky by the layers of
armor he wore. His mind was in a haze, blood pumping fast in his body, and he
didn't even fight it when Roscuro was moving both hands to the backs of Newt's
thighs, expertly picking him up and tucking his legs around his waist. When
Roscuro pressed Newt back against the wall, Newt broke away with a breathy
moan, clinging to Roscuro's vest, even starting to grind himself against the
hard material of his vest.
They startled apart when the bell rang. Newt nearly fell to the floor if he
didn't catch himself against the wall. Roscuro replaced the mask over his
mouth, breathing hard, and Newt ran his fingers through his hair while he
cleared his throat.
Without another word from either of them, Roscuro continued down the hall, and
Newt pushed through the slowly growing flood of students so he could step into
Percival's classroom.
He sat behind his desk, face burning red, and he wondered just what he was
thinking, returning that man's kiss as fervently as he had.
“Everything okay?” Percival was asking, and Newt looked up at him with a lost
gaze. Would Percival understand if he told him? It was Percival, after all, who
had initially started the polyamorous relationship between himself, Credence,
and Newt. But the actions Credence and Percival took to start the relationship
begun only after they discussed it, Newt recalled.
Clearing his throat, Newt instead said, “You left a bruise on my thigh. It's...
still tender.”
Percival smirked, but he didn't say anything more about it, and Newt was
allowed to wallow in his thoughts unbothered.
But Newt wasn't the only one coming in contact with Roscuro, it turned out.
Percival himself found himself encountering the officer on more than one
accidental occasion.
During most lunches, he and Newt would eat together in his classroom. For some,
however, they would have been too lazy to make their lunches, and Percival
would be tasked with getting them food from the cafeteria. On many of these
runs, he would walk by the security office, and on many of these runs, he would
see Roscuro stepping out of it, only to pause and watch as Percival made his
way. Percival didn't cast him a second glance, uncaring of the officers around
him, no matter who they were. Roscuro, unlike most officers, didn't seem to
like being ignored.
He began to appear around Percival when the man went to the restroom, standing
outside of the faculty bathroom door with arms crossed just as the man was
stepping out. He was seen waiting at the front of the school for Percival and
Newt to arrive, would wait to make sure Percival saw him, and then retreated
into the school building. Sometimes, Percival even saw him in the cafeteria,
arms crossed and head turned towards Percival. All the attention rubbed
Percival the wrong way, especially since his attempts at ignoring the officer
seemed to have no affect.
And what was worse was that Percival could see Roscuro looking at Newt with
just as much interest.
Percival tried not to let it bother him, but when Roscuro actually entered the
faculty bathroom just as Percival was washing his hands, the man had had
enough. Ignoring the fact that Percival didn't actually know that Roscuro could
access the faculty bathroom at whim, he looked at Roscuro through the
reflection of the mirror, jaw clenched tight, then said in a cold voice, “So
the rat learned how to use a door.”
Roscuro froze on the spot, not saying a word. Percival turned the sink off,
shook the excess water from his hands, then pulled the disposable hand-towels
from the dispenser, wiping them dry. Looking at Roscuro and trying to decide
what to do, he eventually said, “I've seen you watching me. Watching Newt. What
do you want from us?”
Remaining in the same spot, Roscuro still did not respond. His silence only
made Percival's anger flare, and he balled up the towels in his hand and threw
them forcefully into the trash. In three quick strides, he was standing before
Roscuro, mouth opening and sucking in a sharp breath, completely prepared to
yell at the damned officer. However, just as he was about to be nose-to-nose
with the man, Roscuro suddenly dropped, and the anger was punched out of
Percival's chest.
Kneeling before him, Roscuro dipped his head down, the perfect display of
submission. Percival felt his stomach twist at the sight. A flutter of heat
crawled its way up Percival's spine, a flicker of recognition, and, as if it
were muscle-memory, Percival reached down and grabbed a fist-full of Roscuro's
black hair.
He jerked Roscuro's head back, tilting his head up, and he growled, “Who the
fuck do you think you are? You're just a creep. A stalker.” He tugged harder at
Roscuro's hair, making him gasp. “What is it, hmm? Some sort of fixation on
Newt? Because if you hurt him, I swear, I will do everything in my power to
make sure you regret it.”
At that, Roscuro huffed in amusement. Without a second thought, he was reaching
up and removing the lower half of his mask, exposing his pale skin and sinful
lips. Percival couldn't help himself, he felt arousal swell within him at the
sight. He especially couldn't help the groan when, without a word uttered,
Roscuro held his mouth open, tongue flat at the bottom of his mouth, wet with
saliva and tempting.
But Percival was not a man to cheat, and he wasn't going to start, even if this
arousing creature was kneeling before him, basically begging Percival to sink
into his mouth and fuck his face thoroughly. No, he was not going to hurt Newt
in such a horrible way.
Instead, maybe he would turn this into something more.
Grabbing Roscuro by his jaw, Percival questioned in a low voice, “Do you really
think I'm so desperate that I'd just let anyone suck me?”
Roscuro slowly closed his mouth, but Percival forced him to open it again by
pressing his thumb past his teeth and tugging at his jaw. Roscuro gasped again,
but made no further noise, and only sealed his lips around Percival's thumb,
giving him a tantalizing example of exactly what he would get if he did give
in. But Percival wasn't planning to. Not yet.
“Depraved,” He told the officer, and the word seemed to make him tremble, “I'm
no fool... but I wonder if you're even trying to do harm. In fact...” A small
smirk spread on Percival's lips, and he said, “Come by my classroom if you're
truly interested today after school.”
Roscuro slid his head back, removing himself from Percival's thumb. Percival
let go of his hair, wiped his wet thumb against Roscuro's cheek, then stepped
away from him completely. He could feel Roscuro watching him as he exited the
restroom, but he didn't look back, nor did he say a word.
He made it back to his classroom, Newt checking emails on his IGlass,
completely unaware. Percival settled in his seat, sighing, and he rapped his
fingers against his desk.
“Newton,” He spoke up, but the redhead didn't even look up from his IGlass. He
only hummed, half paying attention. “I think we should bring a little more
excitement in our lives.”
“Mhm.” Newt hummed, scrolling on his IGlass, reading still. Percival looked at
Newt, still tapping his fingers, wondering just how he should bring it up. With
Credence, it was easy. With Newt, he wasn't sure how the boy would react.
Well, if being straightforward worked once, then it was likely it would work
again.
“I've noticed someone grow interested in the both of us. So I propositioned
him.” Percival stated. Newt didn't even deem him with a hum. He blinked, eyes
roaming the screen. Percival felt his impatience grow. “He's coming today,
after school.” Still, no response. “It's Roscuro.”
Newt dropped the IGlass on his lap, head twisting up with wide eyes. Percival
smirked. “Got your attention, do I?” He teased, and Newt opened his mouth to
respond, although barely a word came out.
It took him a few tries, and then Newt was asking, “You asked Roscuro? I-
I thought you said to stay away from him?”
“I did,” Percival agreed, leaning back in his chair, “But like I said, he
seemed to have gained an interest in us.”
Now nervous, Newt stuttered out, “Wh-what gave you that idea?”
“He's been following us around the school,” Percival answered calmly, watching
Newt visibly relax at the answer. It was suspicious, and Percival narrowed his
eyes, “Why? Is there something you aren't telling me?”
Newt tensed again, and he said in a rush, “No. Nothing. I'm just surprised,
that's all.”
“Oh?” Percival lifted a brow, looking Newt up and down, before asking, “You
haven't had any run-ins with Roscuro yourself, have you?”
Immediately, Newt shook his head and said, “No, I haven't.”
Percival continued to leer at Newt, knowing that the boy was lying, wondering
exactly what he was lying about, then figured he wouldn't get it out of him
unless he admitting something himself.
Turning his gaze to his hands, Percival hummed, then muttered under his breath,
“Interesting.”
Newt caught the word immediately, frowning at Percival, then asked, “What's
interesting?”
“Oh, nothing,” Percival hummed, looking up at the ceiling, “I just thought
since Roscuro approached me, that he would have done the same with you.”
“Approached you?” Newt asked, surprised, “How—How do you mean?”
“Hmm?” Percival looked Newt's way, “Well, it's obvious, isn't it?” When Newt
shook his head, Percival smiled, then said, “He approached me to have sex.”
Newt's jaw practically fell. Percival didn't wait for him to ask before saying,
“I didn't, of course. But I may have implied that if he showed up today, he
would be getting exactly what he asked for.” But then, Percival put on a frown,
and added, “But I thought he was interested in you as well... If he was, he
would have approached you already. I guess I was wrong. I can always call it
off, anyways--”
“No!” Newt gasped, looking, to Percival's surprise, thrilled, “H-he kissed me
before, I-I didn't ask him to, of course, but he just—it just happened.
He's—He's interested.”
Percival smirked, finally getting what he wanted, and he told Newt, “You know
you can tell me anything, don't you Newt?”
Immediately, the boy flushed. He turned his head down before admitting, “I
thought you'd be upset. It wasn't too long ago, too... I didn't want you to
think...”
“Shh....” Percival prompted, and Newt peeked up at him from under his lashes,
“I understand. Honestly, I may have been upset had you told me before today.”
He leaned forward in his seat, regarding Newt, and asked him, “Do you want
Roscuro to join us?”
Newt bit his lip, considering the question for what it really was. This wasn't
just going to be an invitation for one little fling. This was going to be a
third person stepping into their relationship. Stepping into the spot Credence
left behind. He wanted to move on, he truly did... but he was afraid that this
meant he was trying to replace Credence.
He admitted such to Percival by saying, “It... feels too much like Credence,
still.”
To which Percival responded with a melancholic, “It's always going to feel like
him. But we can't let that keep us from living our lives, Newt. It isn't wrong
to fall in love again.”
Newt sighed, but he trusted Percival. It hurt still, losing Credence, but it
was always going to hurt in some way. Roscuro was flirting with them now, he
was an option now, and Newt needed to stop living in the past.
Closing his eyes, Newt said quietly, “Okay. Let's try it.”
Percival smiled kindly, then reassured Newt, “Whatever happens, whatever we
decide to do, you know I love you.”
Newt smiled, comforted, and said, “I love you too, Percival.”
The rest of the day was tense. Newt fidgeted impatiently in his seat as
Percival paced the room and gave his lectures. The students took their notes
and paid Newt no mind, leaving Newt to glance at the time. He tried to distract
himself with his IGlass, tried to focus on the lectures to the point of taking
his own notes, but his eyes wandered back to the clock relentlessly, and his
foot began to tap.
By the start of the last period, Percival approached Newt and said to him, “Go
take a little walk, get some of that nervous energy out of you.”
“You sure?” Newt asked, although he was already getting up. Percival nodded,
smiling, then said, “Just make sure you're back in time, alright?”
Nodding, Newt left the classroom just as it was filling up, heading outside of
the building to catch a breath of fresh air. He stayed close to the building,
though away from the patrolling officers and their ever-vigilant cameras. He
paced back and forth between two of the buildings, trying to calm himself,
trying to reassure himself that he shouldn't feel guilty for moving on, that he
should be excited for a new potential partner.
“God, Credence, just... Just give me a sign that you're okay with this,” He
whispered, hiding his face in his hands with his back pressed against the wall
of one of the buildings, “Please, just anything to tell me this is fine with
you...” Dropping his hands from his face, he crossed his arms and looked to the
sky, as if maybe Credence would descend from Heaven right then and there, but
the clouds didn't part and angels didn't appear to him. Overwhelmed with guilt
and confusion, Newt dropped his head again, then muttered, “I miss you so
much...”
Trying to repress the tears in his eyes, Newt didn't notice someone was
approaching until they were nearly upon them. Newt looked up briefly, then
jerked his head up entirely when he saw a familiar figure, hands tucked into a
dark coat and a wide-brim hat atop pale yellow hair. This person approached him
quickly when they realized Newt had noticed them, and Newt stepped away from
the building wall.
“Hello?” He called out to them, but the person only picked up their pace, until
they were right in front of Newt and grabbing at his shirt.
Newt stumbled backward, yelping when he was shoved further down the alleyway
between the two school buildings, and when they were well out of sight of the
officers and the cameras, the person lifted their head, allowing Newt to see
their familiar pale face and emotional blue eyes glittering up at him. Her hair
was braided back from her face tightly, tucked under the hat, and before Newt
could ask her who she was, the girl was saying, “Listen to me, please. You
don't need to believe a word I say, but I must ask you merely listen.”
Newt held his breath and his tongue, staring down at this girl, confused, but
curious. The girl took his silence as acquiescence, and said in a quiet,
trembling voice, “My name is Chastity Barebone, I-I'm the younger sister of
Credence Barebone, adopted daughter of Mary Lou Barebone.” Another shaking
breath, and she continued to say in a grave tone, “And my mother and I are
being haunted.”
Newt felt as if his mind shut off and turned back on, that was how ridiculous
the claim seemed to him. “Excuse me?” He blurted, staring wide-eyed at this
frantic girl, thinking that she was crazy already.
“Shh!” She hissed, looking left, then right, making sure they had garnered no
attention. Breathing quickly, Chastity looked back at Newt and explained, “Ever
since the school year started, my mother has been getting calls from anonymous
numbers. Unknown numbers. Untraceable. No matter what number it is, it's the
same voice. It—It's Credence's voice.”
Shaking her head, Chastity continued, “They come in the middle of the night,
always, always Credence's voice. Every time Ma answers, she breaks down in
tears, sir! She's started to refuse to answer her phone! So—so I've started to
answer the calls. There's no mistake, sir. It's Credence. It has to be
Credence. No one, no one sounds the same as him!”
“Alright...” Newt said slowly, put off by her hysterics, “Why are you telling
me this?”
“He told me to, sir.” She explained, looking desperate, “He says he won't stop
haunting us until I tell you—tell you what he told me. Told me to tell you 'the
truth.'”
Newt grimaced, not really sure if he wanted to hear this girl out. He looked
around them, wondering what would be the best way to get away, but then
Chastity was talking again, and her words froze Newt in place.
“He told me to tell you that he isn't gone. He told me to tell you that—that
he's with you. Every day. He's with you.” Chastity sucked in a shaking breath,
then said, “He told me to tell you that there's something coming, and he wants
to protect you, which is why you should go to Greylock before the end of the
school year.”
“I-I... What?” Newt huffed, looking at this girl like she was insane, “How do
you know I'm going to Greylock?”
“Because, sir, Credence told me!” She claimed, and Newt scoffed at her before
he stepped away.
“You're delusional,” He told her, cruel but he couldn't bear hearing these
words, “Please, leave me alone.”
“No, you have to listen!” Chastity gasped, grabbing at Newt's clothes as the
man began to walk away, but Newt simply tore out of her grip, “Please! He won't
leave us alone if you don't listen!”
“What else have you to say?” Newt suddenly burst, glaring the girl down,
watching as her eyes glistened and her bottom lip quivered, “Credence is dead,
and you're running around, trying to dig up old memories! You're... You're
mad.”
Turning away from her, Newt marched on, leaving the girl behind in his dust,
but carrying her words with him in his mind. He didn't stop walking, not until
he was back in Percival's classroom, taking his seat without disturbing the
lecture. He was no longer impatiently anticipating the end of the class. Now he
had one too many things knocking around in his head.
Newt was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he all but jumped in his seat
when the final bell rang.
“Don't forget about the essay due tomorrow. I can tell when you guys
procrastinate!” Percival called out after his retreating students, looking just
as exhausted as they did from a full day of teaching.
Percival wandered to Newt’s desk in the corner, leaning his hip against it and
crossing his arms, and he asked, “Excited?”
“Nervous,” Newt admitted shyly, sitting up a little bit straighter. “What if--
what if he doesn't like me?”
“Oh, Newton,” Percival tutted, stroking Newt’s cheek, then lifting his head up
with a finger under his chin, “It’s hard not to like you.”
The door opened again before they realized it, and when they turned towards the
entrance, they saw Roscuro standing there, mask still adorned and nightstick
hanging off his belt. He hadn't taken off a single bit of armor. Perhaps he
never did when he was on campus. Or perhaps he had come to them as quickly as
he could.
Percival smirked regardless. “There you are,” he said impatiently, even though
they hadn't been waiting long. “Well? Are you going to lock the door?”
Roscuro took a long breath, as if centering or calming himself, then slowly
twisted the deadbolt, locking the door shut. Silence reigned as Roscuro made
his way to the front of the classroom, boots thud-thud-thudding with each heavy
step. He walked with a sort of grace, alluring, enticing, and when he was at
the front, just a few meters away, he stopped. His hands clenched and
unclenched. He was nervous, too.
Newt stood from his seat, putting a hand on the table, and said in a gentle
voice, “It’s okay if you want to change your mind. We don't have to do
anything, you know.”
Percival glanced at Newt, catching on to what he was doing, then added, “We
won't judge you, no matter what you decide to do.”
Newt bobbed his head, crossing his arms self-consciously over his chest as he
stepped up to Percival’s side. “Do--Do you just want to watch? Maybe… Maybe it
will help to ease you into the idea?”
Roscuro squeezed his hands into fists, then slowly, oh-so-slowly, shook his
head no. Newt took a breath, somehow comforted by the gesture, relieved that
Roscuro was communicating with them one way or another, then said, “Alright. Do
you still want to do this?”
Immediately, without a moment’s hesitation, Roscuro was nodding. Newt smiled
and he leaned against Percival’s side. Percival wrapped an arm around Newt’s
waist, keeping him close, then asked, “How do you want to do this?”
At that, Roscuro hesitated. It wasn't a yes or no question, Newt realized.
Speaking up before things could become tense, Newt instead asked, “Do you want
to be in the middle? Percy in you, you in me?”
Percival glanced at Newt again, but Newt kept his eyes on Roscuro, who seemed
to consider the question. He took a step closer to them, his knees trembling
for a moment, and then he removed the bottom half of his mask, exposing his
lips that both Newt and Percival ached for.
Still silent, Roscuro first pointed at Newt, and the redhead went rigid.
Following Newt, Roscuro pointed at his own mouth. Then, he pointed at Percival,
then to own his chest. Newt blinked, confused, but Percival interpreted, “You
want to blow Newt while I fuck you.”
Roscuro nodded, and Newt felt his stomach flutter. “Oh,” he breathed, feeling
light-headed, “I… I can do that.”
Roscuro smiled, and it looked so strange, seeing emotion on a previously
emotionless face. Roscuro glanced at Percival’s desk, then slowly made his way
to it, putting his hand on the wood, stroking the grain almost reverently.
Newt bit his bottom lip, a sort of disdain bubbling in his gut. He didn't want
them to do this anywhere near Percival’s desk--it made him think too much of
Credence.
When Roscuro set his other hand on Percival’s desk, Newt suddenly blurted, “Wh-
Why don't we, um… do it over here?” Newt suggested, gesturing to his own, much
smaller desk, and Roscuro’s head snapped up so quick, lips pressed in a hard
line. Newt felt his nerves jump, especially when Roscuro clung to Percival’s
desk as if he was about to refuse.
Newt licked his lips anxiously, dropping his gaze when it became too much, and
was about to change his mind when Percival took his side, explaining, “Newt is
quite sentimental. He doesn't want to mix up old memories with new ones.”
At that, Roscuro seemed to relax, and he stood up straight, removing his hands
from Percival’s desk. Newt fidgeted anxiously, muttering out a shy, “I-I'm
sorry…” but Roscuro merely shook his head. He approached the two of them
carefully, looking between Percival and Newt then Percival once more. When
Percival nodded his head towards Newt, Roscuro took the gesture for what it
was, and he took Newt’s down-turned face in his hands. Tilting it up, Roscuro
placed a firm kiss on his lips, sliding his tongue in until Newt was trembling
with desire instead of worry.
When Newt was more relaxed, Roscuro broke away from the kiss with a soft, wet
smack, and he smiled at Newt, who nervously smiled back.
“Beautiful,” Percival sighed, his eyes already hazy, as if he were in seventh
heaven just from watching them. Taking control once more, Percival then
ordered, “Newt, go sit in your chair. Roscuro will be on his knees in front of
you. I'll be behind him.”
“Okay,” Newt said, breath shaky, and he quickly obeyed. As soon as he sat down,
he was undoing his pants and tugging them down his thighs, letting them hang
around his knees so he could stretch his legs out. He kept his boxers on,
however. He was too embarrassed and shy with their new partner to bare himself
like that.
Roscuro approached Newt with a smirk, putting his hands on the armrests of
Newt’s chair, then slowly, sensuously dropping down to his knees, giving Newt a
soft kiss when their heads were level. As soon as he was on the floor, his
hands were trailing up Newt’s thighs, leather black gloves warmed from his
hands, feeling rough and inhuman as they danced along his skin. Newt was
trembling already when Roscuro curled his fingers underneath the waistband of
his boxers, and with a gasp, Newt was exposed, cock already at half-mast from
the thrill of it.
“God…” Newt breathed, covering his face with his hands, but Roscuro didn't seem
to be one affected all too much by simple things like nerves. He wasted no
time, in fact, to engulf Newt’s length in his mouth, exhaling through his nose
as he sank further and further down. Newt trembled and whimpered, peeking
through his fingers just as the last of him vanished down Roscuro’s throat, and
when the man offered a cocky smirk, Newt’s dick twitched against his tongue.
“B-Bugger…” Newt gasped, heart racing as Roscuro slowly pulled back up,
exposing inch by wet inch of Newt’s flesh until his lips were pursed around the
head. Newt’s hands fell from his face so he could stare, wide-eyed and mouth
agape, while Roscuro merely dipped back down with another exhale, sucking him
all the down to the tight clench of his throat.
Creeping into his vision came Percival’s hand on Roscuro’s head, grasping the
black locks there and yanking him back. Roscuro popped off of Newt with a huff,
a thick line of spittle connecting them for only a moment longer before it
snapped. Percival leaned in, lips pressed to Roscuro's ear, and he growled out,
“I see you've done this sort of thing before.”
Roscuro only let out a shuddering breath, mouth still hanging open, drool
beginning to drip down his chin. Percival tightened his grip in Roscuro's hair,
making the man smirk and gasp, and Percival began to tug at Roscuro's clothes,
undoing his belt and yanking down his pants just enough to get what he needed.
“There we are,” Percival hummed, looking excited, “Now. I want you to put your
mouth on Newt's dick and keep it there until he comes. If you pull off, I'll
punish you. Do you understand me?” Percival waited for Roscuro to give an
initial nod, then he tightened his grip so that Roscuro couldn't move, and he
forced his head down, bringing him down on Newt's cock once more. Roscuro went
down eagerly, a hand coming up to clutch at Newt's leg. When he was so far down
his nose was buried in Newt's pubic hair, Percival let go of his hair and
tugged open one of Newt's drawers, finding a small bottle of lubricant tucked
inside.
He poured some into his hand, meeting Newt's eye as he dipped his hand behind
Roscuro, and he waited for Newt to give him a slight nod before he sunk his
fingers in. Immediately, Roscuro's mouth went slack around Newt's cock, and
Newt chewed on his bottom lip and gave a tentative twitch of his hips, nudging
himself against Roscuro's chin. The officer sealed his mouth tightly around
Newt again, sucking him with a vengeance, and Newt's hips jerked again.
Percival, still working his fingers in Roscuro's ass, prompted Newt, “Put your
back into it. Fuck him.”
“Sh-shouldn't I wait for you?” Newt asked, placing a nervous hand on the back
of Roscuro's head, sighing when Roscuro twisted his head to the side, his
tongue peeking out to graze his balls. “I—I don't want him to ch-choke...”
Percival hummed, pressing his fingers in nice and deep, and said softly, “I
think Roscuro is rather interested in choking on your cock.”
As if to agree, Roscuro swallowed, his throat clamping down on Newt's length
with an excruciating strength. Newt's body jolted, his knees jumping up and his
hand clutching tight at Roscuro's hair. “O-Okay, okay,” He moaned, and Roscuro
slowly pulled back, keeping only the top of Newt in his mouth. He suckled
sweetly at the flesh, tongue playing along the head, and Newt slumped back in
his chair, head tilting back and thighs trembling.
“I want to see those hips moving, Newton,” Percival commanded, and Newt sobbed
weakly before he began to lift his hips off the chair, sliding down his seat
until his bottom hung off the edge. Roscuro let his mouth hang open, and soon
Newt was thrusting into him, his hand keeping Roscuro's head steady as he did
so. Percival chuckled, adding a third finger to stretch Roscuro wide, but soon
he grew impatient and was pulling away from him, slicking up his cock so that
he could join in on the fun.
“Let's see how long you can last,” Percival hummed, squeezing Roscuro's ass,
enjoying the give of his muscle, then began to push into him. Roscuro's breath
shuddered, his back arching delectably, letting Percival sink further and
further into him with barely a moment of resistance. Cursing under his breath,
Percival immediately began to thrust, keeping one hand on Roscuro's hip and
bringing the other one up, grabbing him by the strap of his bullet-proof vest.
Newt, breathing heavily, forced his eyes open and his head to roll forward,
immediately meeting Percival's eye over Roscuro's back. With a little bit of
struggle, Newt began to match Percival's languid thrusts until they were in
sync. When Percival picked up speed, Newt did as well. When Roscuro gulped
around Newt's flesh and made him jackrabbit into his throat, Percival would ram
Roscuro's ass hard enough to jolt the officer.
Roscuro began to move his own head and hips, urging Percival to fuck him
faster, all the while slurping and swallowing down Newt's length until he was
choking himself, squeezing out whimpers and moans from the young man beneath
him. He worked with a desperate edge, not wanting Percival to relent. He peered
up at Newt from under the visor, noticing the redhead barely paying him any
mind, and he struggled to regain his attention.
He choked purposefully, gagging and coughing around him. His collar beeped in
warning, but Roscuro didn't give up. He pulled up as far as he dared, drool
spilling from his mouth, dripping hot down Newt's cock. He sucked tight around
the head, tonguing along the slit, then sank back down when Newt was looking
down at him again, high-pitched, staccato whimpers tearing from the redhead's
throat.
Newt's gaze was glazed over, his mind fuzzy and his thoughts all over the
place. His body was thrumming with pleasure, Roscuro's mouth hot and wet and so
good. Newt was stroking Roscuro's hair, his orgasm already budding inside of
him, and without really realizing it, Newt began a gentle mantra of, “So good,
Percy, so good...”
He could hear Percival chuckle through his haze, could feel that wet heat clamp
down on him again, felt the slap of Percival's hips into the body sucking him
off in echoes along his own length. Newt's eyes slid shut against his will,
focused solely on the pleasure, on the sensations, on the way Percival groaned
and panted and Roscuro's quiet, nasally breaths.
Tangling his fingers in Roscuro's hair, Newt drew closer and closer to the
edge, hips jerking up erratically, mind spinning, pleasure bursting like sparks
under his skin, and when it all came to a head, when he spilled into Roscuro's
mouth, he cried out in a simpering voice, “Yes! C-Credence, G-God--!”
His body slumped, Roscuro pulled off of his flesh, and everything seemed to
stop for a long moment. Newt, still floating amongst the afterwaves of
pleasure, was spurred to open his eyes when a hand clutched his arm and shook
him. Blinking quickly, Newt peered down to see who was rousing him, but found
the world around him blurry. He felt his chest shudder, felt a warm wetness
rolling down his cheeks, and when he finally gave a sob, he realized he was
crying.
“Baby,” Percival was suddenly saying in his ear, and Newt quickly rubbed the
tears away, but more and more kept coming. Hiccuping again, Newt curled over
himself, settling his elbows on his knees to cover himself. With another pained
sob, Percival started to rub his back, and Newt felt overwhelmed with guilt.
“I'm sorry,” He told them, realizing he must have ruined the mood, that Roscuro
nor Percival reached completion, “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
“Shh-hh.” Percival soothed, still rubbing his back. Newt then felt a hand
clutch at his calf, and he knew Roscuro was trying to comfort him as well.
“It's okay, Newt. It's nothing to apologize for.”
“I—I ruined it. I ruined everything,” Newt sobbed, shoulders shaking, voice
growing phlegmy the more he cried. Roscuro's hand tightened on his calf and
Percival brought his hand to the back of Newt's neck, giving it a firm but
comforting squeeze.
“I pushed too quickly,” Percival whispered, sounding forlorn, and it only made
Newt feel worse, “It was too much, too fast.”
Roscuro let out a short sigh, tucking his cheek against Newt's knee, and he
stroked his thumb against Newt's calf. The hard press of his visor paired with
the gentle touch of his gloved hand was strange, but paired with Percival's
strong hand and gentle voice helped Newt settle down just enough that he wasn't
sobbing grossly.
When his sobs weaned to mere whimpers, Percival resumed to stroke his back,
then reassured him, “Everything's okay, Newt. Emotions run pretty high in these
sorts of situations.”
Newt let out a long breath, sitting upright again and immediately tugging up
his boxers. He wasn't entirely worried about his pants, more worried about
covering himself so he didn't have to wallow in more shame than he already
felt. “I feel so foolish,” He admitted, face burning red and eyes feeling
puffy, a few more stray tears beading at the corners. He moved to wipe them
away, but Roscuro reacted first, bringing a gloved hand to Newt's face to wipe
them away himself. Newt looked up at him, finding his stretch-swollen lips
turned down in a sympathetic frown, made uneven with the stripes of come
clinging to his skin. Newt felt even more ashamed and tucked his arms tight
around his stomach, averting his gaze.
“Newt,” Percival tutted, stroking his hair now, massaging his scalp, and Newt's
eyes slid shut in bliss at the gentle touches. Roscuro noticed his expression
and began to massage the muscles in his thighs, too. “What we told Roscuro
still applies for you, too. Any time you change your mind, you just tell
us—tell me, and I'll take care of the rest.”
Sighing once more, Newt tilted his head into Percival's hands, letting his legs
go lax under Roscuro's attention. “I don't want it to end,” He admitted,
peeking up at Percival, “It just... everything felt so much like Credence...”
Roscuro's grip on Newt's thighs suddenly tightened, making the redhead flinch
suddenly and hiss in pain. Roscuro quickly let go, lips parting as if to
apologize, but no words came. Percival's fingers stilled in Newt's hair, but
Newt relaxed again despite this, and merely muttered, “You've a really strong
grip on you.”
Roscuro ducked his head, obviously apologetic, and Newt offered a meek smile,
reaching a hand out to stroke Roscuro's cheek. “Hey, it's alright. I know I
shouldn't talk about stuff like that here. Sorry.”
“Hush. We can talk more about it at home,” Percival said, resuming his massage.
Newt gave a soft moan, tilting his head back once more. “Why don't you take a
moment. Give me and Roscuro a second alone.”
Newt smiled a little, saying in a light voice, “Going to finish what I messed
up?”
“Stop it.” Percival huffed, tugging Newt's chin up with a hand so he could kiss
him on the mouth. “I just want to speak to him in private.”
Newt hummed, smiling genuinely now, then said, “Alright. But if things get
interesting, at least be somewhere I can see.”
At that, Percival chuckled and he pulled away, promising, “We won't leave the
room.” Looking at Roscuro, Percival said, “Give Newt a goodbye kiss then come
along,” before he stepped away, readjusting his clothes as he walked towards
the other end of the room, taking his time to get there. Roscuro lifted himself
to his knees, cradling Newt's cheeks and giving him a long, sweet kiss, one
that made Newt's stomach flutter.
When Roscuro did pull away, Newt found himself looking into the visor, seeing
just the faintest outline of eyes staring back at him. His heart skipped,
though he didn't understand why, and Roscuro offered him a soft smile before,
with more exaggerated movements, mouthed to Newt, 'It's okay,' or so Newt
figured. Smiling in return, Newt nodded his head and whispered, “Thank you. I'm
sorry, again.”
Roscuro scrunched his nose, then tapped a finger against Newt's lips almost in
admonishment, before he got to his feet, fixed his pants, then walked away from
Newt to follow Percival to the other end of the room.
Newt slumped in his chair, wiping away any lingering tears and trying to banish
the last few tendrils of embarrassment. He watched Percival and Roscuro, seeing
Roscuro place the mask over his face again, and watching Percival's mouth move
smoothly as he spoke in a low voice. Newt gave a sigh, then reached for his
IGlass, deciding to check his emails while he waited for them.
Greylock was reaching out to him again. Strange, Newt thought. He had done his
registration and chatted with the counselor. He even took the one-week
introductory course which was, in Newt's opinion, completely unnecessary. He
tapped the email open and began to read, only getting as far as 'Greylock
desires to invest in a type of insurance for our latest acquisition,' when he
heard the door open and saw Roscuro leaving, Newt frowned and sat up, but soon
Percival was standing in front of him, looking down at him with an amused
smile.
“Airing out?” He asked, eyeing Newt's still lowered trousers, and Newt gave
Percival a miffed look before he tugged them up around his hips, zipping them
shut. “Ready to go home?”
“Yeah,” Newt said, getting up from the chair and tucking the IGlass into his
pocket, “What did you talk to Roscuro about?”
“I just wanted to reassure him that he hadn't done anything wrong.” Percival
explained, taking Newt's hand in an odd show of affection, “He didn't do
anything wrong, did he?”
“No. I guess I just got overwhelmed. It was a lot like... all of our first time
together,” Newt squeezed Percival's hand, following him out of the classroom
and eventually out of the building itself. Percival kept their hands
intertwined as they made their way to the parking garage.
“I'm sorry,” Percival offered, but Newt smiled up at him, comforted by his
worry.
“Don't be,” Newt said to him, stopping them before they got in the car so he
could give him a kiss on the mouth, “I'm... I'm glad you did this for us.”
 
***** Creatures of the Dark *****
Chapter Summary
     I'm a whore for adding as many characters as I can even if it doesn't
     make sense. Sue me.
They weren't the only ones leaving, however. At the other end of the school,
Grindelwald and the other officers were piling into the back of an M939
military truck, the bed long and wide enough to accommodate the twelve
officers, with an additional two in the cab. Grindelwald was the last to board,
standing in front of Credence as he tugged the shock collar off of him.
“Remember,” Grindelwald spoke, voice low and daring, “You are to stay awake and
alert all night. Nod off, and I will know. I'll be watching.” As soon as the
collar was off, Grindelwald tucked it into his pocket, then re-buttoned the
collar of Credence's turtleneck. “We will be back at four. Meet us here.”
Credence swallowed, his throat no longer feeling restricted by the shock collar
pressed firmly against his trachea, and said in a hoarse, rarely used voice,
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy,” Grindelwald smirked, patting Credence's cheek through his mask,
then turning to get onto the truck. As soon as he was seated, the engine roared
to life, and right before they pulled away, Grindelwald reiterated, “I'll be
watching.”
Credence blinked, watching the truck drive away. He waited there until they
left the campus, then finally turned and walked back into the building. Every
night, the campus had to be monitored, both via cameras and by at least one
officer physically present. The only time no officers were present was during
summer and holiday breaks. But tonight, there was no holiday, and Credence had
been selected to stay.
It wasn't the first time he would be the overnight guard, and it wasn't going
to be the last. They switched out every night, making sure everyone got a turn
at being 'it.' They had enough people that each officer only ever had to do an
overnight patrol once every two weeks.
And whenever Credence worked the overnight patrol, he would have a little fun.
It was the only time outside of being in the barracks that he didn't have to
wear the shock collar. It was the only time he could use his voice. And use it
he did.
Since he knew the car ride to the barracks took twenty minutes, Credence
quickly made his way to the administrative office. He knew Grindelwald could
easily rewind the footage and catch him, but he hadn't thus far, so Credence
figured that, so long as he was no longer in the administrative office by the
time Grindelwald got to the barracks, he would be fine. He grabbed the first
phone he saw and dialed the only number he could remember. It was a shame, but
he had never asked for Percival's number, nor for Newt's. The only number he
remembered was Mary Lou's.
Calling her like every other time he had night patrol, he only waited for three
rings before the phone was answered.
“Hello?” Came Chastity's quivering voice, and Credence closed his eyes, always
feeling a sort of guilt when she answered. He didn't mean to scare her so much.
He didn't mean to make her think he was angry at them and haunting them, but it
was all he had, the only link he had to who he called his family. Even if Mary
Lou didn't love him, even if she loved Chastity more, Credence still missed
them.
“Chastity,” He spoke, and her voice quivered with a breath, terrified. And
then, because even though he missed them, he still felt spiteful, he said to
her, “It's so dark where I am. Please tell Newt--”
“I told him,” She cut him off, trying to sound strong, although her voice broke
still, “I told him, Credence, but he didn't listen. He said I was crazy, didn't
want to believe me, but I told him. I swear I did. Please, believe me. Please,
just... just move on.”
Credence fell silent, considering her words. So she had gotten to Newt finally.
He had been watching her progress. She nearly got to him when he went to the
faculty restroom, however many weeks ago. He felt a little regretful that he
didn't see the encounter. He was silent for so long that Chastity let out a
breath, then asked, “C-Credence?”
Deciding his fun was not yet over, Credence said, “Please tell Percival.”
“God, no, please,” Chastity whimpered, but Credence ignored her.
“Tell Percival the truth,” Credence bid her, “Tell him I'm still here. That I'm
with him. Tell him...” Credence took a breath, a thought in his mind, and
before he could really consider the consequences, Credence said, “Tell him to
take care of Newt for me. To... To take care of Roscuro, too.”
“R-Roscuro?” Chastity sniffled, voice wet with tears, “Who—the school officer?”
Credence quickly hung up. He said too much, and at the same time, he hadn't
said enough. He quickly left the administration office, wondering what Percival
might do once he got the message.
He walked the halls of the school, humming to himself as he went. It felt good
to use his voice after such an exciting day. Only half of his mind paid
attention to his surroundings. The other half replayed what he, Percival, and
Newt had done only a few hours before. A smile tugged at his lips, hidden by
his mask, and he continued to hum pleasantly.
He hoped this wouldn't be the only time he was invited into their arms. He
hoped that Newt wouldn't be put off by the overwhelming emotion that he had
experienced. Credence felt bad—he shouldn't have suggested recreating their
first time together. He just wanted to feel them again...
Giving a soft sigh, Credence wondered what Newt would do if he tried to kiss
him again. What Percival might do if he cornered him in the restrooms again. He
couldn't help but consider the worst, that they would end up rejecting him, but
he tried to stay positive. Percival had obviously not liked him, not until he
had put himself into a submissive position. Newt had warmed up to him
relatively quickly after he had been electrocuted for talking, but Credence
thinks it may have been more out of pity than interest. Still, Credence
couldn't help himself when Newt started talking ill about the 10-241. His
stubbornly passionate personality only reminded Credence of what he loved most
about Newt.
Credence wished he could just tell them. Tell them that he was there, he was
still alive, he was right under their noses,but he couldn't. Grindelwald had
been generous with his threats against them, and dangling Credence right in
front of their faces wasn't just a show of power, but a blatant dare for
Credence to make a move, to try and expose himself to them. If Grindelwald
thought that either Percival or Newt had an inkling of who he was, he had
promised to make them disappear. It was vague, but Credence didn't doubt him.
Grindelwald simply held too much influence.
Credence paused when he stepped on a crumpled sheet of paper. Frowning, he bent
at the waist and plucked it from the ground, unraveling it so he could take a
peek, and immediately he sighed. In many schools across the country, protests
had been taking place against the 10-241. In anticipation for a similar protest
to begin here, Grindelwald began to print and hand out pro-Thinning propaganda.
Credence remembered this particular design as Queenie's, the woman from the
Underground who had all the data available at her fingertips.
Credence tilted his head as he examined the flyer, noticing the arrangement of
red lettering, turning the phrase, “AMERICA, DEMAND RESPECT. CHANGE THE WORLD.
WE RISE FROM THE GIANT'S SHOULDER. TOGETHER, WE STAND TO THE END. TRUST THE
THINNING” to a much less appropriate “AMERICA. DEMAND CHANGE. WERISETOGETHER.
END THE THINNING.”
Smiling to himself, Credence neatly folded the flyer up and tucked it into his
bullet-proof vest. It wasn't the first piece of propaganda Queenie had made,
and it definitely wasn't the first one she had slipped hidden messages into.
Credence had kept a copy of each one. He also knew that her propaganda was most
popular amongst the students. Surely he wasn't the only one to notice the
words.
Continuing his march down the hall, Credence kept to his duties, making sure
the school was secure, that no students were present, and that, most
importantly, Grindelwald thought he was still under his thumb.
Chastity didn't get Credence's message to Percival until the end of the week.
Since their coupling, Percival and Newt seemed far too busy to give Rosucro the
time of day, but Roscuro didn't mind. He needed to make sure Grindelwald didn't
grow suspicious, which meant he had to spend more time at his side. He didn't
think much of the message he had given to Chastity, not until, on one of his
solo patrols, he was suddenly approached by Percival, who seemed to have timed
his restroom break perfectly to step into the hall right beside Roscuro. The
masked man didn't flinch. There were cameras in the halls. Credence didn't want
to tip anyone off.
Still drying his hands off on a paper towel, Percival kept his head down and
said under his breath, “Roscuro.”
Roscuro tilted his head, the shock collar back in place as was his silence.
“I had a visitor, early this morning,” He said nonchalantly, peeking up at the
officer. Roscuro met his gaze unerringly, although his heart began to race. He
held his breath, not sure what Percival might say, not sure what conclusion he
might have come to, but hoping, hoping that he was going to guess right.
But apparently, Percival didn't believe that Credence could still be alive. The
next words he said were simply, “I think, if you're amenable, you, Newt, and I
can consider having something more concrete.”
Roscuro sighed. It wasn't going to happen. Grindelwald would grow jealous if he
spent too much time around them. Besides, it's not like he would be allowed off
the campus. He would forever be trapped here, forever be a mere loner in the
school. He wouldn't be able to celebrate holidays or birthdays or anniversaries
with them. Surely they had to have realized that already, what with his
anonymity and all?
“I understand you're probably married first to your work,” Percival said
softly, brows furrowed, “But Newt and I... we are rather interested in you. We
would definitely like a repeat of what happened earlier this week. If you're
amenable.”
Ah. That he could do. Roscuro looked at Percival again, then nodded. Percival
offered him a smile before he tossed the paper towel away.
“Good.” He told him, pleased, “Thanksgiving break is the week after next. We'd
like to have you sometime before then.”
Again, Roscuro nodded. Percival gave the man a smirk, and with the grace of a
cat, he stroked a finger fondly against what would be Roscuro's cheek, if he
didn't wear the mask. Roscuro tilted his head towards the touch, wishing he
could feel it on his skin, but this would just have to do.
“Any time you're free, we'll gladly have you,” Percival said, stepping away
from Roscuro then and leaving him behind.
Later that day, when Percival and Newt were preparing to go home, Percival
mentioned to Newt, “Credence's sister approached me this morning.”
Newt went still at that, looking up with wide eyes. “She spoke to you too?” He
asked, and this time it was Percival who looked curious.
“When did she approach you?” He queried, watching as Newt stood up straight
from his desk.
“The same day Roscuro joined us.” Newt hesitated for a moment, then said, “She
started telling me stuff. Saying that she was being haunted. By... By
Credence.”
Percival harrumphed, crossing his own arms, then admitted, “She told me the
same. But she also told me something interesting.” When Newt peered at him
silently, Percival shared, “She said that Credence asked me to take care of you
and Roscuro.”
Newt blinked, and in mere moments, he looked absolutely overcome by emotion.
His eyes ran wet, his bottom lip trembled, and all of a sudden he was sobbing
into his palm, muffling his cries until his shoulders were shaking. Percival
was upon him in moments, grasping Newt by the shoulders, asking him what was
wrong, then eventually pulling the boy in for a tight hug when Newt couldn't
manage to muster up a word.
Newt was never a particularly religious man. In fact, he didn't think he ever
stepped foot in a church in his life. But, standing here in Percival's arms,
hearing that Credence's supposed ghost had told Percival to take care of not
only Newt, but Roscuro, especially after Newt had begged him for guidance...
well, if there was ever an angel for Newt to believe in, it would be Credence.
It made all the sense in Newt's world for him to come back from the afterlife.
As soon as his sobs had settled, Newt wrapped his arms around Percival's neck
and hugged him even tighter. He gave the man a few shaky kisses, ones that
Percival returned just as sweetly, although the touch of concern didn't leave
his eyes, nor did his hands stop their reassuring petting down Newt's sides.
“Newt?” Percival finally managed to ask between thrilled kisses, and Newt
smiled up at him, trying to blink through his tears, “You're worrying me...”
“I'm sorry,” Newt sniffed, pulling away just enough to wipe his tears away,
trying to center himself, “I just.... Feel so much better... about Roscuro. If
Credence really approves...” He sighed, still smiling. Percival stroked his
side once more, then cradled Newt's cheek in his hand, wiping away a few stray
tears. Newt grinned up at him, feeling at ease, and they shared one more soft
kiss.
“So I guess it's good that I asked Roscuro to come back sometime before
Thanksgiving?” Percival wondered aloud, and Newt gave a soft laugh, already
nodding his head.
“Tell him he can come by after Thanksgiving, too.” Newt said, letting Percival
hold him tight to his chest, relaxing in his strong arms, “And I promise I
won't cry this time.”
Percival chuckled, endearing and warm inside, and he said, “I'll tell him,
then.”
They went home with a lightness in their chest, Newt not feeling so foolish and
guilty and Percival thrilled to finally move on, eager to get over the death of
the boy he thought he couldn't live without.
And maybe the two of them were simply lying to themselves, merely replacing the
absence Credence left with the faceless, voiceless Roscuro.
Credence would have to wait until he was put on overnight duty to go to the
couple. Until then, he had to return to the barracks with Grindelwald, riding
beside him in the bed of the truck, keeping his head down and suspicions low.
Grindelwald had no clue, or if he did, he didn't think Credence's actions would
jeopardize his plans. Credence would rather keep it that way.
“More protests are breaking out across the country,” A soldier told
Grindelwald, looking down at the tablet in his hands, “A handful of schools
were even set on fire.”
“Were there any soldiers inside?” Grindelwald asked, and the soldier shook his
head.
“Only the night patrol, but no deaths have been reported. This sort of damage
is going to be expensive, however...”
Grindelwald sighed, crossing his arms, then said, “If this keeps up, the public
will begin to question our power. We'll have to enlist more officers from the
pens.”
“Is that really a good idea?” Another soldier asked, green and unaware of
Grindelwald's temper, although she faltered just a bit when Grindelwald focused
a dark gaze on her, “Without the proper training and conditioning, we won't be
able to guarantee a loyal or skilled team.”
Grindelwald's eyes narrowed. Credence curled in more on himself, and the other
soldiers who had yet to participate in the conversation turned their heads the
other way.
“What say you, then?” Grindelwald asked, voice cold and calculating, “Shall I
conjure more soldiers from the air? Shall I invest my time in the study of
homunculi?”
“W-well...” The woman stammered, and Credence clenched his jaw tightly,
screaming in his mind for her just to shut up, to apologize and let it be, but
she needed to learn on her own. “W-why don't we open the position to the
public? Allow those who survived the Thinning to... to work on the campuses?”
Credence closed his eyes. Grindelwald barked out a sharp, sarcastic bite of
laughter. “Shall we also tell them all of our dirty little secrets?” He
questioned, stiff in his chair, “Shall we let not only them but the rest of the
public know that their poor, deceased little boys and girls are living
underneath their feet, working in sweatshops to manufacture the shit they buy
without a care for where it came from? In fact, why stop there? Why not tell
the whole damned world that America hasn't been culling their five percent like
we claimed we were?!”
The girl had finally gone silent. Credence allowed Grindelwald to take a few
breaths before he reached out to him, brushing his fingers against his thigh.
Drawing the attention to himself. Grindelwald snatched his hand in a painful
grip because of it, but Credence barely flinched.
“Keep your hands to yourself, fool,” Grindelwald spat, glaring Credence down
instead, “Mute bitch, doesn't know when to act.”
Shoving Credence's hand back into his lap, Grindelwald announced irately, “We
are heading underground tonight. We must begin training immediately. Credence,”
He looked at the boy, brows pinched tightly and eyes deranged, “You will be
taking charge underground in my absence.”
Credence jerked his head up, surprised and aghast. He opened his mouth to say
as much, but stopped before a word could come. He still had the shock collar
on. He didn't want to risk the pain.
“Cross me again, boy, and I'll bury a bullet in that damned Brit's head.”
Grindelwald threatened, shoving a cruel finger against Credence's chest, sure
to bruise his solar plexus. Credence still did not speak, but he felt his hands
begin to quake and his worries swell. He wouldn't be able to see Percival and
Newt again for Lord knows how long. He didn't even have a way to tell them.
What would they think? That he abandoned them? That he quit? Maybe they would
think he hadn't liked their first interaction. Maybe Newt would think he scared
Roscuro off with his tears.
The flurry of thoughts made Credence feel sick to his stomach, but with the
shock collar in place and Grindelwald sitting beside him, he could do nothing
more than lean his elbows on his knees and try to breathe through the nausea.
Exiting from the Underground was nothing like entering it. Credence felt a wave
of deja vu overcome him as he, Grindelwald, and the rest of the soldiers
stepped into the basement of the barracks and filed into the metal lift, having
to press in shoulder-to-shoulder in order to fit all of them. One officer slid
the metal gate closed, and then another grabbed the lever at the side and
cranked it forward. The whole elevator jolted, the floor trembling under their
feet, and Credence swayed dangerously, breath catching in his throat. As they
descended, Credence watched as the concrete that blocked them in gave way to
dirt, earth, and then concrete and metal, the foreboding sign that they were
entering the living Hell just beneath everyone's feet.
It took ten minutes. Ten minutes of just standing there, shoulders pressed to
Grindelwald and a faceless nobody in a uniform similar to his. Ten minutes of
hearing others breathe, others cough, others sniff and clear their throat. It
was ten minutes of the loudest silence that Credence had to endure, the whine,
click, and scrape of the elevator continuing its journey downward. He could
only imagine how more horrible it would have been had he and the other Failures
been awake and alert when being brought down. A handful of shaking, confused,
naked teenagers who had just been told that they were going to die, forced to
quietly suffer in the darkness wondering exactly what their fate might be.
Credence thought he might vomit already. If he had been awake the first time,
he may not have been the only one to have.
With a final lurch, the elevator stopped, showing them a dimly lit hallway only
a few meters in length. At the end was a reinforced steel door. An officer
yanked open the metal gate. Credence moved to take a step, but Grindelwald
stopped him with a shove.
“Wait until I open the door.” He told Credence. As Grindelwald stepped out of
the elevator, Credence realized none of the other officers were stepping out,
either. Grindelwald approached the door alone, his back blocking the view of
whatever information he was inputting into the keypad there—if it was even a
keypad—in order to unlock the door.
As soon as it slid open, the officers filed out of the elevator, chatting
amongst each other as they stepped into the virtual blackness on the other
side. Credence lingered for a few moments after they all filed out, his eyes
locking onto Grindelwald, who was standing by the steel door, waiting for him.
He could slam the metal gate shut, standing alone in this elevator. He could
yank the lever back and bring himself back up to the world. He could escape
Grindelwald, he could get himself free.
Grindelwald smirked at him, a playful but dangerous glint in his eyes, and he
said, “Don't get any ideas, pet.”
Credence didn't move immediately. He really did think about it. His fingers
itched to wrap around the metal gate and slam it shut. His heart pounded in his
ears, the adrenaline burning in his veins...
Then, with a heavy sigh, Credence stepped off of the lift and shuffled to
Grindelwald's side, head ducked and shoulders slumped. Grindelwald reached out,
gripping Credence tightly by the back of his neck, and pulling him in nice and
close to whisper in his ear, “Test my patience again and I'll end you.”
Credence gulped, but he didn't reply. Grindelwald didn't let go of him, not
until he unlocked the shock collar from Credence's throat and pulled it off.
“Get in there,” He ordered, jerking his head towards the darkness past the open
door, and Credence obeyed without a second thought. He stepped blindly into the
darkness, marching with more confidence than he was capable of holding until
the outline of shapes became visible, then dim colors, then smaller details. He
was at the end of the hall with the rest of the officers when he was capable of
seeing more than five feet in front of him. There was another reinforced door
in their way, and the officers congregated around it, chatting amongst
themselves and making light jokes. A few chuckled lightly, their voices echoing
in the hallway.
Grindelwald appeared a few moments later, grazing a hand possessively over
Credence's shoulders before he approached the door.
“Welcome back to the Underground, men,” Grindelwald announced, pressing his
thumb to the DNA scanner embedded into the door. After a whir and click, the
door unlocked and swung inward. Grindelwald pulled his hand back, thumb beading
with blood which he wiped off on Credence's shirt sleeve, and watched as his
officers filed through the doorway, entering the factory underground with a
much lighter air than Credence thought was reasonable. When the last officer
filed through, Grindelwald pushed Credence forward and together they walked,
entering the place Credence loathed with every last inch of his being.
First thing's first, they had to go up and down the lines and pull anyone fit
and healthy enough to begin rigorous training. They had to make sure they
didn't grab anyone too young, lest their height and gangly adolescent forms
give them away, but they still ended up gathering quite a few children just
barely turning fourteen. Credence looked amongst their gaunt, fearful faces,
wondering if they even knew what was happening. Maybe they thought they were
being selected to die. Maybe that would have been better than what was going to
happen.
They would be trained to be like the rest of these soldiers, heartless,
egotistical, violent. They would become the very same people who treated them
like shit, keeping the cycle turning. Credence loathed the truth, but it was
inevitable. These people would be warped and Credence could only stand by and
watch.
As soon as they had fifty of the workers lined up before them, Credence and
nine other officers decided to split them up into groups of five, giving each
officer a group to train. The officers looked between one another
conspiratorially, then all nine of them rushed to pick their five, leaving
Credence with the less desirable selection. Credence bit back a sigh and tried
to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He wasn't surprised, he already knew the
other officers didn't care for him. These slights against him were proof of
that fact, and Credence could only bear with it.
As the officers and their groups dispersed from the hall, Credence remained,
ignoring the sound of the factory workers just behind the door and the echoing
footsteps of the officers and their wards that were slowly fading out. He
waited, standing quietly until the last echo faded, until the hum of the
factory became a muffled buzz in the back of Credence's mind, and only when he
was certain that the other officers were gone did he really take a look at his
group.
Five misfits, he was given. Chosen solely for their health, for not a single
one of them sniffed or coughed or shivered with chills. Their eyes were bright,
but their bodies clearly lacking. Credence felt so familiar with them already,
knowing he himself had barely filled out his armor ever since he had been taken
down here.
He walked down the short line-up, gauging each of them. In his group he had a
squat, ill-proportioned young man with oily brown hair cut close to his scalp,
making his flat nose look even wider than it already was. He had a tall girl,
her early growth-spurt making her look older, though her chubby face and
awkward stance belied her youth. Next, a rather plain looking thing, blue eyes
probably much more beautiful in the natural sun than this dim, unflattering
light. Their hair was already turning white from the lack of exposure, their
waxy skin making them look worse for wear than they actually were. They looked
at Credence, only for a moment, and Credence could tell they were much more
intelligent than they let on. Lastly, there were the twins. Fresh meat to the
Underground, which made them more desirable than the rest, but not chosen by
the other officers because of their short stature. The girls couldn't have been
taller than five feet, but their dark skin still held a sun-kissed quality to
it, their eyes a glimmer that was typically stolen from most after their first
year. They did not cling to each other in fear. They were both independent in
their confidence, and yet they stood close to one another, afraid for what may
happen to them by Credence's hand.
After giving each of them a quick glance, Credence stood before them, hands
clutched into fists at his sides, and he said in his meek voice, “Your names,
please.”
It certainly wasn't what the ragtag group had expected. They looked at one
another, a quiet communication happening between them that Credence was deaf
to, but they still obeyed despite the oddity that was Credence.
“Nathan,” The squat boy started off, voice much more shrill than Credence
thought it would be.
“Empress,” The tall but young girl said next, quiet and trembling.
“Douglas,” The ghostly-pale individual stated in a whisper that carried well in
the echoing room.
“Oak,” Said the first twin, sharp and sure.
“Ami,” Said the second, just as confident as her sister. Credence bobbed his
head, looking over his group, wondering just what he was supposed to do now in
order to get them prepared for the world above.
“I'm Credence,” He told them, trying to be the leader, although he felt very
out of his skin, “But above-ground, they call me Roscuro. Above-ground, we need
different names.”
Douglas' eyes lit up immediately, already understanding what the rest did not.
So he was quick-minded. That was a good thing to have.
“I want each of you to decide what you want to be called when you eventually go
above.”
The four others caught up with Douglas, and looked at one another in quiet
shock, as if testing to see if they had heard the same. Credence let them
fidget. It was a lot to take in, after all. And if he was going to have to work
with this group, then he was going to have to earn their trust. He wouldn't be
cruel to them. It was all he could do in an effort to retain their kindness.
“I'm not so good at names,” Credence admitted, regaining their attention, “But
I can decide on names for you all. If you want.”
Glancing once more at each other from the corners of their eyes, they tried to
decide if this was a test or not, if maybe they were being pranked. Maybe if
they answered wrong, Credence would hurt them. Maybe if they angered their
seemingly even-tempered officer, Credence would try to hurt them. Deciding it
was better to be safe than sorry—or to have a name they liked—they each agreed
to Credence naming them. Immediately, Credence felt the pressure weighing on
his shoulders.
He sucked in a breath, trying to think quickly of suitable names for each of
them, and eventually went down the line. He started first at Nathan, announcing
in a quivering voice, “You'll be... N.... Nick.... Niff.... ler. Niffler. A-
and... you can be, um... E-Er...Ernest? No.... Er-oo.... rum... pet. Erumpet.
Yes.” Licking his lips and trying to ignore the disgruntled looks from the
first two, he turned his gaze on Douglas and declared quickly, “Dougal.”
Luckily, Douglas laughed.
Lastly, looking at the twins, he stammered out, “You... you can be... um...
Oak-Ami.”
“Occamy?” The girls said in unison, looking at one another, and Credence
nodded. “Which one of us?” They then asked, and Credence floundered.
“I-I don't know... both of you?” He suggested weakly, feeling suddenly hot
underneath his armor. “I mean, you both look the same.”
The girls crossed their arms, faces pinching in distaste, but they didn't argue
the fact. Credence cleared his throat, relieved that was over with, and then he
looked over them all and asked, “Do you... Can you remember those? Are those
fine?”
The five of them considered the question for a long, tense moment, but, since
they were still afraid of Credence's position over them, they reluctantly
nodded their heads, accepting their new, awkward names. Credence nodded as
well, whispering a breathless, “Okay. Good.” Before he considered them all one
last time. None of them were particularly made for fighting. None of them had
the skill even after years of physical education. The Underground had not been
kind to any of them, especially their muscles, and Credence knew it would be
hard to gain the same sort of muscle mass the other officers had. Deciding to
work with this limitation instead of against, Credence planned a crazy idea and
asked, “Will you all please follow me, then?”
He turned and began to walk, only glancing back a few times to make sure the
five of them were following, despite their unsettled frowns and curious gazes.
Credence led his group down the hall and towards the elevator, allowing them to
pile inside first before he, too, stepped in. Grabbing the lever with both
hands, Credence jerked it forward, and the elevator began to descend.
Knowing he was no tour-guide like Samson or Grindelwald, Credence awkwardly
explained during their descent, “We will be going to the very bottom floor.
Erm.... not many officers tend to roam this area, but—but I am armed, so... so
don't get any ideas. Please.” Credence bid them, glancing over his shoulder to
offer them a pleading look before he finally let go of the lever.
As soon as the elevator stopped, Credence pushed open the gate and stepped out,
waving the five of them out of the elevator and down the hall. Credence took
the lead once again, pushing open the double-doors and guiding his team into
the bottom floor's main room. Immediately, his team was taken with the rows
upon rows of technology.
“It—It would be a good idea to start here,” Credence said, trying to raise his
voice to be heard over the constant clak-clak of the thousands of fingers
flying over hundreds of keyboards, “I think, um, a lot of you will be familiar
with this, um, sort of work.”
Credence guided them around the room, much to the amusement of the officer
stationed to watch over the workers. One by one, his proteges splintered off,
each one finding a task to be more interesting than others, until they were all
sitting beside one of the workers, watching them click away on their old
keyboards as they worked on their projects. Credence let out a breath, feeling
better now that he didn't have to actively pretend like he knew how to lead,
and he wandered towards the back of the room where an obnoxiously long table
sat, its entire surface embedded with a glowing touchscreen. Sitting behind the
desk, with her golden headset and rose-gold glove, sat Queenie, Credence's only
real friend in this hole.
“Creedy,” She said in her delicate voice, curious smile on her cupid-bow lips,
“You brought friends home?”
“Grindelwald needs more officers,” Credence explained, and Queenie hummed,
obviously having known that already. She knew everything that happened the
moment it happened, it seemed, and it was that knowledge that was somehow
soothing about this woman. There was no secret kept from her, but at the same
time, Credence didn't have to worry and flounder about how to approach any
given subject, especially about himself. Queenie knew all there was to know
about Credence and his ex-lovers, and she had no room in her kind heart to
judge.
“Queenie,” Credence spoke up, hands twisting anxiously at his sides, “I want to
ask a favor of you.”
Queenie took one look at him, batted her pretty lashes, then smiled once again.
“Oh, honey,” She sighed, giving Credence a scolding smirk, “You look so pale.
You. Need. Food.” He punctuated her words with a delicate tap of her gloved
finger in the air, then turned her attention back to her table, “I know a fella
in the kitchen who can make a pązcki that'll make your heart sing, you know.”
She paused, then, and gave Credence a sharp look. She looked him up and down,
really looked at him, her eyes clear as day and keen as hell before she
returned to her aloof self once again and corrected herself, “Although, you
look more like a babka fella to me.”
A wink in his direction and Credence had a new task in mind. Abandoning his
five recruits, Credence booked it to the kitchens and hunted down the man he
needed, finding him toiling away happily over a springy ball of dough while the
oven behind him baked.
“Jacob,” Credence said as he approached, and though he made no attempt to sneak
up on the man, Jacob still jumped as he turned, as if he hadn't expected anyone
but himself to be in the kitchen that day.
“Oh, hey!” He said cheerily, patting a flour-covered hand on Credence's
shoulder. Jacob was the second good thing in this dungeon, although, and
Credence felt a bit bad about it, he was a bit hard to talk to. Jacob was
painfully optimistic, and Credence couldn't gather the patience to agree with
him half the time. Still, despite Credence's cold shoulder, the man still
pulled through whenever he was needed.
“Jacob,” Credence said again, voice quiet and eyes wide, “I heard you can make
babka.”
“Hey, yeah! Learned the recipe from my great aunt, anyway.” He hummed
pleasantly, and Credence shuffled on his feet.
“I—I've always wanted to try it,” He told Jacob, trying to express his true
intentions with his eyes and tone of voice, “Would you mind making a babka for
me?”
“Sure thing, pal. I'll make anything you want me to.” Jacob smiled, everything
about him soft and genuine. He patted Credence's shoulder again then turned
back to his dough. Credence chewed on his bottom lip but knew there was no
point in lingering. He had come to place his order, and if past experience had
anything to show him, he knew Jacob would deliver.
Just as he turned around, however, the oven dinged, and Jacob jumped.
“Oh, hang on there, pal,” He told Credence, tugging on a pair of oven mittens
so he could pull out the tray of freshly baked pastries. “Would you mind making
a trip for me?”
“Not at all,” Credence said, turning back towards Jacob as the man jostled
about, surprisingly fast and nimble for a man his size. He pulled together a
pązcki, made only an hour ago, and wrapped it up in a thin napkin before he
handed it off to Credence.
“Mind givin' that one to my gal?” He asked, a love-struck look in his eyes,
“Let her know I put an extra little bit o' me in this one.”
“Okay,” Credence said, barely interested, but this was the least he could do
for this man after putting in his own request. Jacob let Credence go, then, and
Credence quickly made his way back down, finding his team still wandering
amongst the workers, the awe yet to wane. With the pązcki in hand, Credence
approached Queenie and offered her a genuine, “Thank you.”
“Oh, honey, you shouldn't have!” She gasped, already spying the sweet wrapped
in the napkin. Despite her words, Queenie snatched the dessert from Credence's
grip, already beginning to unwrap it.
“U-um...” Credence spoke up, stopping the golden woman from tucking right in,
“He says there's... a piece of him. In this one.”
Queenie's eyes went round, and she let out a soft, “Oh!” before she looked back
at the pązcki. Unfettered by the stickiness, Queenie tore it in two, then dug
her fingers right into the gooey middle. Credence watched with a sort of sick
fascination, wondering what exactly she was trying to do, and only finding out
when she pulled a thin, tightly wrapped note from the center.
She popped the note into her mouth, then, using her tongue to tuck it away
somewhere against her cheek, then smiled up at Credence and said earnestly,
“Thank you, sweetie.”
“It's—It's no problem.” Credence replied.
“You'll be in the kitchen tomorrow, won't you?” Queenie inquired smoothly,
blinking innocently up at the man, “For the babka.”
Credence nodded, caught on, and said, “I'll... see if I can get you another
pązcki.”
“Oh, thank you, honey.” She smiled, picking at her current pastry, “You might
want to head out now. Sammy will be headed this way and she won't be too happy
seeing you and your group here.”
Giving a smile, Credence offered her another quiet thanks before he turned to
face the room, seeing his ragtag group doing some of the work under the keen
supervision of the techs. Credence cleared his throat and, trying to project,
called out, “W-we should be going, now.”
Dougal was the only one who looked up at Credence. The others seemed too
enraptured in the work they were doing to hear him. Credence felt his face
flush, and he tried to clear his throat again, but a mixture of embarrassment
and nerves kept his throat locked up tight. Luckily, it seems like Dougal was
ready to help.
Getting up from their seat, Dougal quickly went to each individual, tugging on
their arms and whispering in their ears. One by one, he got their attention,
and soon all five of them were waiting by the doorway leading back to the
elevator. Credence approached them quickly, cheeks red, and he said in a small
voice, “Th-thank you. Erm... We should—We should figure out where the others
have gone.”
They managed to find the other teams touring the bunks where the officers and
trainees stayed. They all crept in at the very back of the tour, and their
absence somehow went unnoticed. Not a single one of them mentioned the little
detour they took. When the groups were allowed to select their bunks, Credence
found his group choosing a set of beds placed directly beside each other, the
Occamy twins pairing up on one of the twin-sized mattresses. While the other
recruits began to chat amongst one another, becoming loud and boisterous as
they settled into their new living arrangements outside of the factory,
Credence's group remained clustered together, speaking in low tones and keeping
to themselves.
Credence slowly felt himself relax, standing away from the other officers and
watching over the younger recruits. It was unfortunate, but they all seemed so
much happier now that they were out of the factory and certain that they
weren't about to be killed. They talked and laughed, their voices rough from
disuse, though that didn't stop them from reveling in their new freedom.
Credence couldn't help the small smile that spread on his face, distantly
hoping that they can keep this sort of innocent joy, even if it was only for a
little while.
He startled to attention with the other officers when Grindelwald suddenly
entered. The room fell silent immediately, all eyes on him, and Grindelwald
smirked at the attention.
“So theseare my newest recruits.” He said, looking around the room slowly,
keenly, “It's very good to have you all here. I understand you must be a little
jarred from the sudden change, some of you may be confused, but rest assured,
this is a good change. From today on, you will be trained by my officers in
order to follow in their footsteps. These men will not accept failure. They
will push you to your limits, mentally and physically. They will break you down
so that you can be built back up. And once you're ready, they will take you
outside.”
A gasp echoed through the room, followed by excited whispering amongst the
recruits. Grindelwald allowed them to bubble in excitement about the chance to
return above-ground, biding his time before he regained control with a booming,
“However...” Everyone looked back at him, “This does not guarantee that you
will make it that far. If my men think you are a risk to bring above, if any of
them think you have not fulfilled your training, then you will be thrown back
into the factory. If my men think you are disloyal or a risk, then you will be
killed.”
Silence stretched in the room, and Grindelwald made sure to look over them all
one more time, before finally saying, “I will not be here to oversee your
progress. In my place,” He waved towards Credence, who stepped forward
obediently, head bowed, “Credence will be watching. My men will answer to him
and so will all of you.”
Giving a gesture, Credence took a few steps back, and Grindelwald tucked his
hands behind his back. “You will return to this hall every evening. In the
mornings, your training officers will meet you here. You are not to wander
without your officer. If you are found anywhere alone, you will be killed on
sight.” A few of the recruits glanced at one another. Credence's team seemed
unshaken.
With that out of the way, Grindelwald offered the recruits a very misleading
smile, then said, “Well, it's time I returned to my business. My officers and
Credence will take it from here.” He turned away from the recruits, then, and
walked casually out of the dorm. Credence watched him go from under his lashes,
flinching when Grindelwald's hand patted his shoulder possessively.
By the time he was gone, the other officers were leaving as well. Credence
lingered, watching each one of them leave until he was the last one standing
there amongst a room of fifty recruits. They had begun to talk, though they
looked towards him fretfully. Credence gazed at them, wondering what might be
going through their minds, what they might be thinking of him.
Clearing his throat, Credence bid them all, “Good night.” But he only got a few
replies in return, mostly from his own group. He didn't take it personally. He
wouldn't have wanted speak to a person he believed had a hand in their previous
life of torture.
He left them in peace after that, returning to Grindelwald's apartment for a
little rest himself.
 
***** Thanksgiving *****
The next day, he waited for the other officers to collect their group before he
corralled his own. Double-checking down the hall to ensure they weren't in
hearing range from anyone else, Credence looked back to his group and told
them, “I didn't hand pick you. The other officers, they decided you weren't
worth the trouble.” Lowering his gaze, Credence admitted, “I know what it's
like to be a burden.” Then, meeting their eyes again, he added, “But I also
know what it's like discovering what you're truly meant for.”
Looking over them, committing their faces to memory and hoping he was making
the right choice, he asked them, “Do you think you're meant to be here?”
They looked at one another, and Credence saw with some surprise that his words
had inspired his recruits. After a long moment of silent deliberation, Dougal
spoke up with a confident, “No one is.”
Credence pressed his lips into a line, a swell of pride in his gut, though he
tried not to show it. He gave them a curt nod, then said, “We're... We're going
to have a different sort of training than the others. But that means we c-can't
tell them about it. Okay?”
They nodded resolutely, and Credence chewed on his bottom lip before he
gestured with his hand for them to follow him. “We're returning back down to
the-the surveillance room. I want you to learn as much as you can. About the
equipment, I mean.”
Another nod and Credence lead them out of the hall and towards the elevator.
Their journey down went as smoothly as the one before, although this time,
Credence only walked them in before telling them he was going to do other work.
“B-But what about what the man said?” Erumpet suddenly asked, looking worried,
“If we're caught without you, they'll shoot us.”
“Hush.” Credence quelled her quickly, glancing around to make sure no one else
heard them, “You'll be just fine. The only one who comes here with a gun is
Samson.” However, this didn't seem to soothe them.
“Samson?” Niffler groused, bug-eyed, “She wouldn't hesitate a second!”
Credence couldn't help but roll his eyes. Even though he knew they were
unfamiliar with the space down here, he thought they should at least trust him,
considering he had been skirting around her and the other officers for so long
already.
“So long as you stay towards the walls, she won't notice you.” Credence
explained calmly, brows furrowed, “She only comes to check on Queenie, anyways.
So when she comes in, just keep your heads down.”
Dougal, it seemed, was the only one without a worry about their situation. They
rocked on their feet for a moment, then said, “These desks are solid. If any of
us are worried about being seen, we could always hide underneath.”
“Wouldn't that be odd?” One Occamy asked, looking towards Dougal uncertainly.
“Wouldn't they say something?” The other Occamy wondered, gesturing towards the
workers, silently and sedately tapping away on their keyboards.
“They won't,” Credence said with certainty, “They came from the same factories
as you, you know. They're here because of the same test. They won't tell.”
“We'll be fine,” Dougal said, smiling at their companions. “The longer we stand
here, the less time we'll have, anyway.”
With a reluctant sigh, Niffler grumbled, “You're right. Unless we want to be
with the others doing laps or what have you, we might as well take advantage of
the time we have.”
“So what are we waiting for?” One Occamy asked while the other was already
running off to find someone to tutor her.
“If we're really going up, then I'm getting the credit card info.” Niffler
declared, running off as well.
“Then I'm going to look into blueprints and architectural plans.” Erumpet
grinned, taking off herself.
“Oh!” The remaining Occamy gasped, looking determined, “I want to study the
CCTV cameras!” and she, too was gone.
Dougal remained behind, looking at Credence for a long moment. When Credence
frowned nervously at them, Dougal asked, “Is there anything you need us to
learn?”
Credence pressed his lips into a line, anxious, but managed to suggest, “It may
be a good idea to—to learn about campus security in the public schools. How to,
erm, control them, and such.”
Dougal blinked, but they nodded without complaint. Instead, just before they
turned away, Dougal said to Credence, “Be careful, please.”
Credence nodded, and he left them in the surveillance room without another
word.
He made the short journey to the kitchen, where he sought Jacob out
immediately. Upon approaching the man, Credence was fully expecting to receive
something from him, but when Jacob laid his eyes on Credence, he merely looked
thrilled and said, “There's the man of the hour! Hey, I need a favor from you.”
Credence's brows lifted, surprised, but he didn't object. Instead, he asked,
“What do you need?”
Pulling out a tray from the oven, Jacob tugged off his mittens while
explaining, “You see, I made a little snack earlier today. We call it a babka,”
Credence's eyes lit up, but he didn't interrupt, “I wanted to deliver this to
the man up above—Gary, I think his name is.”
Credence's brows quirked, and he asked, “From imports?” When Jacob merely
nodded, Credence admitted dumbly, “I don't understand...”
“I just need you to give it to him,” Jacob explained, smiling kindly at the boy
while handing over the babka, “Tell him Benni asked me to whip it up for him.”
And then, as if it were a secret, Jacob leaned in and whispered, “And she'd
love to know how it tastes, alright? So make sure he takes a good bite.”
Brows dipped low, Credence took the babka and nodded, still not entirely
understanding, but able to gather that this was what Queenie had suggested he
do. As soon as the babka transferred hands, Jacob turned back to his work and
Credence scurried off, taking the elevator past the factory and towards the
top, reaching imports with no trouble at all.
He entered the warehouse, walking by the foreign workers who barely gave him a
glance of recognition. He marched down the lines and up to the small office
tucked in the back corner, finding the officer in charge—Gary—lounging back in
his chair. He looked up when Credence cleared his throat, and although he
looked surprised to see him there, he didn't look the least bit worried.
“Samson send you?” He asked, and when Credence shook his head, his confusion
only grew, “Whatcha up here for, then?”
Licking his lips, Credence procured the babka and said in a small voice, “Benni
wanted you to have this.” Gary blinked at the dessert in Credence's hands,
bewildered, and Credence added, “Sh-she enlisted the talents of a well-known
pastry chef in the kitchen. Um... she wants to kn-know what you think of it.”
Gary looked up at Credence, eyes wide, and he asked, “Benni did? Really?”
“Mhm.”
Reaching for the babka like one might reach for an infant, Gary cradled the
dessert with both hands before delicately placing it on his messy desk, staring
down at it with such rapturous awe that Credence wondered if there was an image
of God Himself burned into the top. Credence watched Gary stare at the babka,
mouth hanging open and eyes twinkling, but when he made no move to eat it,
Credence cleared his throat sharply, making Gary jump in his seat.
“S-sir,” Credence spoke up, brows arched, “The taste?”
“Oh, right, of course...” Gary said a bit breathlessly, shoving papers and food
wrappers across and off of his desk in search for a fork. As soon as he found
one, he cut a hefty chunk from the side of the desert, and nearly immediately
popped it into his mouth.
With a luxurious groan, Gary tilted his head back and said through a full
mouth, “God, this is like heaven. What's in this thing?”
“Haven't the slightest,” Credence admitted, watching Gary closely, wondering
just what he was supposed to be looking for if anything.
“Benni was right--this guy is a prodigy!” Gary declared, scooping up another
forkful and promptly munching down, following it up with another dramatic moan,
“I should go tell her in person how fantastic this is!”
Credence's brows lifted immediately. This must be what he was waiting for.
Quickly, he nodded his head, saying, “I-I bet she'd love that! You should go
see her. Immediately.”
“Yeah!” Gary got up from his chair with a heavy groan, “I'll go see her
myself!”
He then took a confident step forward, then dropped face-first to the ground.
Credence skittered out of the way with a gasp, eyes wide and heart pounding. Oh
God, he thought in a panic, he's just killed him! He's a murderer!
Credence nearly dropped to his knees to pray, but a sharp snore tearing through
the air stopped him. He stared down at Gary's prone form, waiting with bated
breath, and when the second snore came from him he all but sighed in relief. He
wasn't dead, thank God. Jacob must have packed the babka full of sedatives.
But now that Gary was knocked out, Credence had full access to Gary's work
desk. And, more importantly, Gary's telephone. Exactly what he wanted.
Credence plopped down in Gary's seat and scooted forward, pulling the phone
closer to him and grimacing at the bulk. The thing was so old, Credence
wouldn't be surprised to find out it didn't work. In fact... Credence lifted
the cradle, eyes wide. Was this a landline? How primitive.
Shaking his head, Credence lifted the phone and pressed it to his ear, hearing
a dial tone. That was a good sign. He poised his hand over the dial pad, giving
himself a moment to gather himself, then dialed the one number he remembered.
The phone rang. It rang and rang and rang. Credence thought for a worried
moment that they weren't going to answer, but on the fifth ring, there was
finally a click, followed by an unfamiliar girl's voice asking, “Hello?”
Credence paused. His brow furrowed and he glanced at the phone, as if he could
see the person on the other side if he looked long enough. When the girl called
out again, a bit petulant, Credence pressed the speaker back to his ear and
asked, “Who is this?”
There was silence for a moment, and then the girl said, “I think I'm supposed
to be asking that.” When Credence didn't reply, however, she supplied, “I'm
Modesty.”
“Modesty.” Credence murmured, brows furrowed. That definitely sounded like a
name Ma would give her child. But it was hard to imagine that she would adopt
another child. “Is Chastity there?”
“She's in school right now.” Modesty said, following it up with a deceitful
cough and a nasally, “But I'm sick today, so I have to stay home.”
Credence felt the corners of his lips tug in a smile. Whoever this girl was,
Credence liked her. He felt a touch of regret that he couldn't meet this girl,
that he probably never would. He also realized, with a bit of vengeful
pleasure, that this meant Mary Lou no longer believed in Chastity's
intelligence. She mustn't have done well last year.
“So who is this?” Modesty then asked, and Credence wondered what he should tell
her. Would she know who Credence is? Had Mary Lou told her about him? He didn't
know. He didn't think Mary Lou would want to bring up her failure son who
managed to almost bypass the entire system, but at the same time, Mary Lou
would use anything at her disposal to make sure her girls were in line, even if
it meant threatening to make sure they ended up 'dead' like him.
Deciding he didn't want to get into specifics with her, Credence avoided the
question and instead said, “Can you do something for me, Modesty?” The girl
sighed, but Credence asked anyways. “Will you tell her I called?”
“Okay, but who is this?” She huffed.
“Don't worry about it. She'll know.” Credence said, smiling a little. And then,
deciding to be a little cruel, Credence added, “Tell her that I'll call again.
I'll always call again.”
Modesty drawled out an uncomfortable, “Okay...?”
“Thank you, Modesty,” Credence said kindly, leaning against the desk, “Erm...
do well in school.”
“Yeah, alright....” She hummed, uncertain.
“Goodbye,” Credence said, brows furrowing. When Modesty returned the farewell,
Credence put the phone back on the cradle and sighed. He wouldn't be able to
call again unless he drugged Gary again, and he was almost certain that at this
point, Gary was going to be a little reluctant in eating anything Credence
would give him.
Looking at the unconscious man still snoring on the ground, Credence figured he
was going to be out of it for a while longer. Well, he might as well take
advantage of it while he can.
Looking at the monitor set on the desk—and God, that was old, too—Credence
looked through the system, perusing through the inventory until he stumbled
upon the ordering list for various medications. There were supplements,
steroids, insulin, IV fluid, birth control—a long, long list of medicine that
Credence didn't even know about or what they were for. He scrolled through the
list slowly, brows raised at the quantities they ordered bi-monthly, and then
he found a curious medication on the list.
Asphodex. Credence frowned in confusion, wondering what they needed Asphodex
for. Surely if one of the factory workers had ADHD or chronic anxiety,
Grindelwald would have relocated them, lobotomized them, or killed them. He
hadn't been hesitant to do so for a guy who had gotten mad, nor did he have any
issues doing so for children who had a cough or the stomach flu. He looked over
the quantities, saw the ordering rate, and wondered further just what they
could be using it for.
It came to him in a memory, recalling Samson telling him that no one would be
revolting if they were constantly happy. Asphodex--though it was made to treat
ADHD amongst other ailments by mimicking the affects of dopamine while also
acting as a light tranquilizer--could easily affect anyone else. People up top
often take them to increase their focus, even if they don't have ADHD. Credence
remembers doing an essay about Asphodex addiction and abuse. There were studies
out there that claimed they didn't actually do anything for people not
suffering from ADHD, but if that were the case, why would they be using it
here?
An idea came to mind, then, and he cast a glance at Gary as he considered it.
Gary had already shown he was quite incompetent. God forgive him, but Credence
didn't think Gary was even double-checking the orders before submitting them.
He probably had this list, sent it in, and that was that.
With a small smile, Credence deleted the Asphodex and, pushing his mind to
remember what it was called, typed in a name for a prescription
placebo—Cebocap.
He jumped in his seat with a gasp when Gary suddenly groaned and began to shift
around. He saved and closed the program, then hopped to his feet, grabbed the
remaining babka and scurried out of the office, making his way to the elevator
before Gary could wake up and question him.
He would have to wait, now. Wait and see if what he had done would have any
sort of impact, if it really was the Asphodex they were using to keep those
trapped down here calm.
Miles above him, the week passed with a tense air, Newt anxious to see Roscuro
again. Percival was a bit more relaxed about the situation, but when neither of
them saw Roscuro before Thanksgiving break, they began to doubt his interest.
Newt more-so. He had begun to have his doubts only halfway through the week,
but the longer they went without seeing Roscuro, the more despondent he became.
Percival, meanwhile, only became anxious. It was fine that Roscuro hadn't come
to them. They told Roscuro that he didn't have to stay with them if he didn't
want to, and Percival meant it. What made him nervous was that he hadn't seen
hide or hair of that man on campus at all.
His suspicions only grew the more he saw Grindelwald walking the halls,
accompanied by at least one of his officers. Something had to have happened to
Roscuro to explain his absence. Which meant that he wasn't coming to them not
because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't.
Percival didn't share his theory, however, until the first night of
Thanksgiving break. Newt was curled up on his side while Percival sat up,
reading the news on his IGlass, a pair of glasses atop his nose. Talk of
student-led protests leading to entire schools shutting down for almost a week
was startling, but Percival thought their efforts were futile. No matter what
they did, the Thinning would continue to exist.
Although, Percival began to wonder, maybe these protests wouldn't be happening
if the mix-up over Newt and Credence last year hadn't happened. Percival looked
at Newt's back, peering over his glasses, and thought to himself, if he had
allowed Newt to be marched to his death instead of Credence, would any of this
be happening?
It didn't matter now, Percival supposed. What's done is done, and no matter
what could have been, nothing was going to change. In order to distract
himself, Percival cleared his throat, then said, “Have you seen Roscuro at all
before the break?”
Newt shifted where he lay, voice quiet and annoyed as he mumbled, “No.”
Percival frowned. Tugging off his glasses, he set them and his IGlass on the
nightstand just to his right, then looked at Newt again. “Have you seen him at
all after we invited him in?”
“No,” Newt said again at the end of a sigh, voice tight.
Percival rapped his fingers against his thigh, then said, “I think something
may have happened to him.”
Newt scoffed at the idea, his shoulders rising to his ears, and he groused,
“Yeah. I happened. I started crying like an emotional slag.”
“Newt,” Percival sighed, and Newt flopped over onto his back, scowling at
Percival with teary eyes, “It's not your fault and you know it.”
“How can you even say that to me?” Newt complained, pushing himself up until
he, too, was sitting, allowing them to speak at the same level, “If I didn't
burst into tears, I wouldn't have scared him away!”
“You didn't--!” Percival cut himself off, knowing that arguing with Newt was
entirely useless. Instead, Percival brought the conversation back to the
original topic, “I haven't seen him on campus at all, Newt. Even if he didn't
want to join us, we would have seen him doing his rounds.”
Newt huffed, already turning to lay back down, and he muttered, “Maybe he
quit.”
“Officers can't quit,” Percival said flatly, irritated by Newt's dismissive
attitude.
“Then maybe he transferred to another school!” Newt yelled, tugging the blanket
over his shoulders, trying to put an end to the conversation, “I don't know,
Percival!”
Percival rolled his eyes, allowing Newt to brood. Even if Percival honestly
didn't think Newt had anything to do with Roscuro's disappearance, him telling
the boy that would do nothing to ease his mind. Still, Newt was being childish,
and Percival couldn't help but mutter under his breath, “It wouldn't hurt to
show even an ounce of concern for someone else, you know.”
Newt didn't utter a word. Instead, he threw the blankets back, got up from the
bed, grabbed his pillow and marched right out of the room. Percival only rolled
his eyes again, not even sorry for his biting words. He'd let Newt sleep on the
couch like he had for the past few nights. It wouldn't bother him because he
knew Newt was simply being sensitive and narrow-minded. Roscuro's absence was
beyond their relationship, but Newt was too embarrassed to see that.
The next morning, they would forget about the conversation. Newt would continue
to mope and Percival would focus on enjoying his time off with his lover. Maybe
they'll even get intimate again. Lord knows they hadn't even touched each other
since that experience with Roscuro.
It wasn't brought up again until a few days later. They were eating dinner, the
animosity from their first conversation cooled to a simmer, and Newt was
perusing the news feed on his own IGlass. Percival wasn't at all interested
until he heard Newt give a half-hearted, “Huh.”
Percival glanced up, chewing slowly. “Huh, what?” He asked, and Newt scrolled
on the page he was on, still reading. He took a few more moments, read a few
more lines, then said, “Senator Barebone is currently under fire from the local
public. They are questioning her motives and intentions for the years she
allowed her son, Credence Barebone, to evade the Thinning. It is also bringing
up questions about who else might be giving their children, nieces, or nephews
what the government is calling 'free passes,' not to mention who might have
taken their place in the slaughter halls.”
Percival sighed, leaning his elbows heavily on the table, putting his head in
his hand. “It's only a matter of time before they start outing everyone who's
given free passes.”
Newt hummed, still scrolling through the article, and then he mentioned,
“They're only mentioning government officials so far. No one is suspecting the
teachers have any influence. You're probably fine.” Newt sighed, picking up his
fork to play with his food, though his eyes remained glued to his IGlass. After
a few more lines, he continued reading aloud, “Investigations are underway to
ensure her current children, Chastity and Modesty Barebone—the latter having
been a recent addition to the Barebone household—are not receiving the same
privileges. So far, no foul play has turned up.”
“Modesty?” Percival hummed, and Newt looked up with a confused frown, “I don't
remember Credence mentioning a Modesty.”
“Me neither.” Newt sighed, putting his IGlass down, “I guess when they say
recent, they mean very recent.”
Percival huffed, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I guess Chastity hasn't been
meeting Mary Lou's standards.”
“What do you mean?” Newt asked, setting his IGlass down and focusing more on
his dinner—and their conversation.
Percival gave a nonchalant shrug, then said, “Just something Credence told me.
He said Mary Lou adopted Chastity when he started failing his 10-241. She was
still vouching for him, of course—Chastity didn't need a free pass. When they
got older, however, Credence grew more and more worried about Mary Lou's
vouches, so he and I... well, we met.”
Suddenly, Newt adorned a very pinched, disturbed look. He eyed Percival up and
down, then said, “Don't tell me you offered....”
“It wasn't like that,” Percival sighed, looking irritated. “I was merely
tutoring him at first. Our relationship grew from there. Besides, I loved
Credence. I would never threaten him like that.”
Newt slowly relaxed, though he looked a little doubtful still. Percival figured
as much. Credence and Percival's relationship was immoral at best, and
downright pedophilic at worst, although Percival didn't want to consider
himself as one. It was only ever Credence that he loved. Newt, too, in a way.
“Sorry,” Newt sighed, lowering his gaze and pushing his food around his plate,
“I guess I just assumed the worst.”
“It's fine. I don't expect anyone to understand how it happened.” Percival
admitted, brows furrowed, “I don't understand how it happened myself.”
Newt shifted in his chair, awkward, and placed the fork on the table. He picked
the tablet back up, going back to his articles, and Percival focused back on
his dinner, allowing the silence to calm him.
Another article caught Newt's attention. He read with a furrowed brow and gave
a distressed hum. Percival peered back up at him, not needing to ask, merely
waiting until Newt read it aloud. This time, though, it took longer for Newt to
do so. He scrolled on the page, eyes scanning the words quickly, and then he
scrolled all the way back up, blinking in surprise.
“Just yesterday?” He whispered, more to himself, and Percival lowered his fork.
“What is it?” Percival questioned, watching as Newt's mouth fell open, jaw
working as if he was trying to force the words out.
With enough force to make his voice crack, Newt said in disbelief, “S-someone
set the school on fire.”
Percival's brows shot up. “Say again?” He requested, and now Newt was standing,
bringing the IGlass with him around the table, plopping without warning in
Percival's lap. Percival looked at the screen, reading it over as well.
“Someone set the school on fire,” Newt said again, while Percival read the
words:
'Firefighters were called to the local Ilvermorny campus after alarms were set
off. By the time trucks arrived, the school was up in flames, the smoke being
seen from miles away. Working long into the night, firefighters were unable to
quench the flames until early this morning, around four a.m.
After the fire was put out, police were called to investigate, as well as the
campus security, including Grindelwald himself, as well as his right-hand man,
Roscuro. Police are blaming this blaze on a so-far-unnamed arsonist. They say
the blaze itself started outside of the school building, which should have
prevented the flames from getting inside, but due to an oversight from campus
faculty, a window to one of the classrooms had been left open. This allowed the
fire to get inside the building and spread from there. Police are currently
investigating the teacher to see if they have anything to do with the arson.
“We are in a place where the youth can no longer rely on the validity of the
10-241 due to the illegal actions taken by government officials.” Grindelwald
said in an interview about the arson, “While it may seem hard to believe, it's
extremely likely that the arsonist was a student of Ilvermorny. Whether they
are at risk of failure of the 10-241 or not cannot be said with certainty.”
Journalists then turned to Roscuro, who had this to say: “The destruction of
this school is a blatant radical protest movement conducted by our youth. After
the deception of the older generation, they are scared for themselves and are
willing to take extreme measures in order to postpone the inevitable. This is
not the first protest, nor will this be the last. America's younger generations
are demanding change. They are rising together against the 10-241.”
However, after asking what steps would be taken to ensure such radical protests
were stopped, Roscuro refused to comment.'
Percival looked at Newt, and Newt blinked up at him with a frown, obviously
worried. “Do you think they'll do something like this during school?”
“No,” Percival said, although he wasn't sure himself, “They're after the
school, not the students...”
Newt shifted a little, then asked, “Not the faculty?”
Percival pressed his lips into a line, but said, “Not the faculty.”
The news was put out of their mind for the next two days. Thanksgiving came,
Percival taking charge of making them a hearty turkey dinner while Newt
wandered around the house in a sort of daze, cell phone clutched hopefully in
his hands the entire time. When they sat down for dinner—although a three
o'clock meal was only ever dinner on Thanksgiving—Newt barely touched his food,
staring wistfully at his phone set atop the table instead, He pushed his food
around listlessly, checking his notifications every half-minute. His nerves
were becoming infectious, however, and soon even Percival found himself tapping
his fingers impatiently on the tabletop.
“Everything okay over there?” Percival finally managed to ask, and Newt's face
crumpled.
“I haven't heard from Theseus at all,” He admitted, sliding his hands under the
table, still staring at his phone, “I thought that maybe he'd try calling
today... We never celebrated Thanksgiving, but... I knowhe's not working.”
Percival's brow dipped, then he asked, “Why don't you text him?”
But Newt only sighed, shoulders slumped, and he mumbled, “I don't know... I
don't want to bother him if he doesn't want to talk... He's... probably still
upset with me, anyway.” Newt shifted awkwardly in his seat, eyes growing wet,
and he stuffed the phone into his pocket with a touch of malice before saying
in a thick voice, “I-It doesn't matter. If he doesn't want to—to make up, then
fine.”
Frowning, Percival set his fork down and said in a quiet voice, “Newton...”
“I don't n-need him, anyway.” Newt huffed, scrubbing at his eyes angrily, then
giving a loud sniff before he picked his fork back up, moodily stabbing at his
food although he didn't make the effort to bring it to his mouth. “I have you.
I don't need him.” Percival didn't say a word. He merely continued to look on,
feeling his heart breaking for Newt, but the redhead wasn't done. “I-I got a
full ride without him! I passed the Thinning without him! I-I don't need him
st-sticking his nose in m-my life!”
Giving a long sigh, Percival was about to speak up when Newt made a
particularly violent stab into his turkey and spat out, “It's not l-like he's
all the f-family I have left!” And almost immediately after, tears were
spilling down his cheeks and hiccuping sobs bubbled from his throat. He gave a
single wail, trembling hands covering his face, and Percival was up and moving
long before Newt sobbed out his name.
“Shh, shh, shh,” Percival cooed, pulling the young man into his arms, tucking
Newt's head tight against his chest, allowing him to stifle his sobs with his
shirt. “There you go, working yourself up like this.” Percival tutted, combing
his fingers through his curly hair, gently working the tangles free, although
it only seemed to make his hair poof out. Slowly, he began to rock him back and
forth, beginning to rub his back all the while.
“Wh-why doesn't he l-love me?” Newt whimpered, clutching tightly at Percival's
shirt, not daring to lift his head lest his teary face make even Percival run
away in disgust, “I-I'm his brother! He's sup-supposed to... supposed t-to...”
He sobbed again, shoulders trembling, fingers clutching.
“I don't know, baby,” Percival sighed, leaning down enough to tuck his chin
against the top of Newt's head, “I don't know, but he's making a huge mistake.
There's no one alive in this world that deserves more love than you, Newton.
And if he's going to neglect you like this--” Percival paused, reaching down
and forcing Newt to look up at him, meeting the quivering boy's eyes and never
once flinching in distaste, even when Newt was certain he had tears staining
his cheeks and snot clogging his nose, “If he's going to neglect you like this,
then I'll just have to love you tenfold.”
Newt closed his eyes, giving one last shuddering sob, and he tilted his head
against Percival's palm. He allowed the older man to pull him back into a hug,
allowed him to wipe his face clean with his hands and then kiss him on the
forehead, the nose, the lips, until he was no longer whimpering with sorrow and
the loneliness burning in his chest was nothing but a dull ache.
Newt drew close to Percival that night in bed. It had been a while since the
boy curled up at Percival's side, heart too broken from Roscuro's disappearance
and emotions too tender to allow for anything too intimate, but Newt needed
comfort, and he sought it from the only man he thought would give it to him. As
Percival's arms wrapped around his middle, palms resting flat on Newt's stomach
to keep him close, Newt tucked his nose against the pillows and sighed. His
tears had all but dried out by then, but he still managed to squeeze out few if
the tepid dampness beneath his cheek was anything to go by. He didn't do a
thing about it, however. He merely closed his eyes and accepted the fact that
he was just an unlikable man, this belief only spurred on when he recalled the
fact that Percival would have never approached it had it not been for Credence.
The rest of the week went by so much quicker, it seemed. Thanksgiving had only
just happened and then Monday was upon them. Newt felt like he was still too
tired, not at all rested from the week-long break. Regardless, he and Percival
got up early in the morning and prepared themselves for the day. While Percival
showered, Newt brushed his teeth. While Newt pulled on his clothes, Percival
cooked. They both ate quickly before hurrying out to the car, Newt carrying
Percival's classwork for him as Percival skimmed over the weather report for
the day followed closely by the traffic.
The ride to school was silent. Newt was nodding off in his seat, already used
to sleeping in even though it had only been a week. Percival, luckily, remained
vigilantly focused on the road, sipping his coffee with one hand on the wheel.
As soon as they pulled up to the school, though, Percival roused Newt with a
soft, “Baby, look.”
Lifting his head and rubbing the sand from his eyes, Newt looked out the window
and immediately gaped in surprise.
While all of the buildings were still standing, one of them was cordoned off
and being patrolled by a mix of policemen and campus officers. From where they
were approaching the building, they saw nothing wrong with it, but as soon as
the other side came into view, they saw the damage. The wall itself was stained
black from soot and ash, outlining the gaping hole in it that exposed the
building's infrastructure and interior. The furniture immediately visible was
blackened and charred, a few investigators pacing around inside. Even
Grindelwald could be seen, speaking at length with the woman who must have been
in charge at the scene, his arms crossed and face drawn in a scowl.
The building soon vanished as they pulled into the parking lot. Newt looked
over at Percival, his heart throbbing in fear, but Percival remained resolute
and merely stated, “It's just fear mongering. No one will do anything while
school is in session.”
Newt nodded, having no choice but to believe in him. He gathered the classwork
in his arms and stepped out of the car, Percival leading them into the main
building. At least their classroom had been untouched.
As they headed for their building, Percival holding both his and Newt's cups of
coffee and Newt hugging the classwork to his chest, they both noticed the
sudden increase of campus officers, especially when they realized the officers
were lining students up and checking each and every one of them. They were all
masked and armed, two of them flanking every entrance with shotguns on display.
When Percival and Newt approached, Newt spied a familiarly unique mask and
immediately ducked his head, cheeks burning in a mix of shame and anger.
Percival immediately caught on, leaning close to whisper to Newt, “Why don't
you go around? I'll be there in just a moment.”
Irritated, Newt whispered back, “You don't have to talk to him for me. Just
leave it alone.”
“Go around, Newt.” Percival then ordered, using his dominating tone. Newt cast
him a cruel look but ultimately obeyed, splitting from Percival's side to go
around the building, headed for the doorway where Roscuro was not currently
guarding.
Newt's avoidance didn't go unnoticed. Percival could see Roscuro watching his
boy walking away, then snap his attention back to Percival as soon as Newt was
out of sight. Percival continued to approach, avoiding Roscuro's stare himself,
although he smirked when he heard the guard fall into step behind him as soon
as he entered the building.
Together, they walked through the crowded hallway until they reached Percival's
less-crowded classroom. Newt taking the long way would give them a few minutes
alone, but Percival still planned on making it quick.
The moment the door closed behind Roscuro, Percival was speaking.
“He's quite bitter with you.” He told the man, setting his and Newt's coffee on
his desk, then turning to face Roscuro, who stood stiffly beside the door.
“Although I agree with him; It was a bold move, vanishing the way you did.”
Roscuro lowered his head, ashamed. Percival allowed him a moment to sulk before
saying, “But you didn't have much choice, did you?”
Roscuro didn't answer. Percival took it as answer enough. Stepping away from
his desk, Percival approached Roscuro with a calm confidence. He drew close to
the man, stepping into his personal space, using both hands to cradle Roscuro's
masked jaw, tilting his head back up. Roscuro moved with the grace of a jointed
doll, breath shuddering quietly.
“I'm an old man, Roscuro,” Percival said in a quiet, purring voice, slipping a
thumb along the crease between Roscuro's visor and his mask until he found the
latch connecting the two, one set on either side of his face. He unlocked the
first and felt Roscuro twitch under his palm. “I have enough experience to know
the difference between running away,” He unlocked the other side, and Roscuro's
lower-mask fell away. His lips were parted, wet from the humidity of his own
breath, “And being unable to return.”
He pressed his thumb to the bottom of Roscuro's lip, his mouth opening just the
slightest bit more, red tongue on display. Leaning in, Percival pressed a kiss
on his open mouth, slipping past teeth to steal a taste. Roscuro tilted his
head in Percival's palm, tongue stroking wetly with a hurried tinge of
desperation, hands trembling at his sides. When Percival pulled away, Roscuro
had to restrain himself from dragging the man back in, although he stole one
last kitten-lick to his top lip, making the man chuckle. With a gentle touch,
Percival stroked Roscuro's cheek and said smoothly, “As I thought.”
Handing Roscuro the bottom-half of his mask, Percival told him, “Newt is still
young, you know. He's self-conscious and emotionally guided.” Allowing Roscuro
to put his mask back into place, Percival advised him, “He needs to be
reassured. Do you understand me?”
With his mask back in place, Roscuro gave a brief nod. Percival smirked at him
and nodded back, stepping away from the man and dismissing him with, “Go on,
then, before Newt arrives. I think you should focus on him for now before you
can join us again.”
With an amused grin, Percival watched Roscuro's shoulders deflate. Still, the
officer accepted Percival's advise and opened the classroom door. With one last
lingering glance, Roscuro left the room, and only a minute later did Newt
arrive, still looking disgruntled.
“I swear, Percival, if you threatened him--” Newt started to say, and Percival
chuckled delightedly as he made himself comfortable in his seat.
“I've done nothing of the sort,” He said in a voice far too innocent for Newt's
comfort, “I merely wanted to find out the truth. He had not been absent
willingly.”
Newt rolled his eyes. He all but dropped Percival's classwork on his desk
before he plucked his coffee from the table, making his way to his own desk and
chair. “So he says,” Newt grumbled bitterly, sipping at his drink.
“Newton.” Percival sighed, but Newt refused to meet his gaze, glaring moodily
at his desk, “Just give him a second chance. I'm sure you won't regret it.”
Newt didn't respond, but Percival didn't press him anymore. He had said his
piece. Now it was up to Roscuro to bring Newt around. He only hoped that the
officer didn't wait too long.
 
***** The Best Apology *****
Chapter Summary
     finally we all gasp, more porn.
     Homophobia towards the end tho lol whoops
Roscuro made his move the very next day when Newt was least suspecting it.
Roscuro was planning to wait for Newt when he was sent to get himself and
Percival lunch from the canteen, and when he saw the redhead trekking the now
empty halls in the middle of lunch all by himself, he knew he was not going to
get another shot like this in a long while.
Without a second thought, Roscuro approached Newt. The redhead, upon noticing
Roscuro's presence, looked like he was about to turn away, but Roscuro snatched
him by the arm and forced him into the nearest restroom, despite his reluctant
tugs. As soon as the both of them were inside, Roscuro locked the door behind
him and finally let go of Newt. He removed the bottom half of his mask in a
single smooth motion, letting it hang at the side of his cheek from one of the
hinges, and then he was on the other man, grabbing him tight by the front of
his shirt, jostling him backwards against the dirty wall, and kissing him
firmly, as if trying to relay his own desperation through it.
Newt squirmed in his grasp, an indignant squeal coming from the back of his
throat, and he shoved and pushed and swatted at Roscuro's chest, although the
officer didn't let up nor did he try to stop him. Roscuro instead cradled
Newt's cheek with a hand, his thumb creeping towards the corner of Newt's
mouth. Once there, he pressed down, forcing Newt's lips to part just enough for
Roscuro to slip his tongue in.
He felt the redhead shudder against him. Felt the way his lips trembled and
heard the soft moan trickle from the back of his throat. Roscuro felt warm in
his chest, arousal spiking when Newt began to return to hurried kiss, but he
was jolted from the pleasure when Newt suddenly stomped his foot down on
Roscuro's toes, making the officer jolt backward and clench his jaw tight,
fighting the instinctual yelp so he didn't get shocked.
Breathlessly and using the wall to support him more than his own two legs, Newt
wheezed out, “You arse! Y-you think you can just—just kiss me like that after
what you did?!”
Roscuro chewed on his bottom lip, balancing awkwardly on his uninjured foot
while his toes throbbed and ached. Newt licked his own lips, face tinged red
with embarrassment, but then he declared, “I-I'm not just going to forgive you
for that, you know! You can't just—disappear without a word and then g-grab me
right when you come back! I-I know Percival and I said you can join us but—that
doesn't turn me into some easy make!”
Slowly, Roscuro's pain seemed insignificant to Newt's own hurt, especially when
his eyes grew glossy and his bottom lip began to tremble. In a thick voice,
Newt told him, “It hurt, what you did... I-I don't get it. Did I—Was it me?”
Nothing would have made Roscuro want to speak more than seeing Newt look at him
then, tears rolling down his cheeks and eyes filled with heartbreak. It
physically hurt Roscuro, knowing he couldn't vocalize his apology, and all he
could really settle for was a shaky attempt at sign-language, an uncertain
action of tracing his closed fist in circles over his chest while he slowly
approached. Newt understood easily enough, but he dropped his gaze and let his
eyes squeeze shut, a sob pulling from him as more tears fell.
When he was in arm's reach, Roscuro deliberately pulled Newt against his chest,
relaxing just a touch when the redhead went willingly. Wrapping his arms around
him, Roscuro stroked a comforting hand up and down his back, helping him
through the overwhelming emotion, wishing that he could just whisper only once
so he could tell Newt that he loved him. Even holding up the sign with one hand
seemed unsatisfactory, especially since Newt didn't react overwhelmingly well
to it. Instead, he merely smacked Roscuro's hand away and muttered, “Y-you
don't have to taunt me like that. I get it, alright? I know what you're doing.”
Newt pulled away from Roscuro, arms crossed tightly over his chest, looking as
if he might suddenly be sick. Roscuro could only watch as he took a handful of
steps away from him, the reflection of the redhead in the bathroom mirror
allowing him to see the waterfall of emotions overtaking his expressions.
“Percival told me, before the break, you approached him. Propositioned him,
actually.” Newt didn't lift his gaze, didn't look over his shoulder, didn't
turn towards Roscuro at all as he said, “He told me you wanted to sleep with
him which was why he invited you in. He said you were interested in me, too,
but I know that's not true. People just don't like me.”
Roscuro felt his heart clench and his self-hate swell, but he allowed Newt to
continue speaking, even though it felt like a sharp knife in his gut when he
said, “You're interested in Percival, fine. You don't have to pretend to like
me to get to him, though.”
Unable to express himself, Roscuro stood there, trembling in anger. Newt still
didn't look at him, he still didn't turn to see what sort of affect his words
might have, but Roscuro was relieved of it because he was certain that he would
have looked far too vicious, his teeth gnashing and his fists squeezed so tight
his leather gloves creaked. In all his life, Roscuro never felt particularly
upset by the situations he found himself in, but at this very moment, he could
have cursed every god out there if he thought it would let him speak to Newt
just once without the damned collar electrocuting him. He was so angry but
there was nothing he could do about it, so desperate without a voice to let it
out with. He wanted to reach out and grab Newt, but he feared he might hurt him
with how tense his muscles had become. He was scared that he might take the
confusion and anger and despair out on the heartbroken man, and even if he
thought that it might have been necessary in order to get Newt to just
understand, he knew he would never intentionally cause the man harm, because,
in the end, he loved Newt just as much as he loved Percival. Even if they
couldn't see Credence under this ridiculous guise. Even if they thought him
dead and were trying to move on from him with what was essentially his own
ghost.
Unable to do much else but stand there silently and quake, Roscuro approached
Newt from behind. He didn't put his hands on him, afraid they might grab and
twist without his permission. He didn't allow his lips to part or purse, afraid
he might accidentally let a shout or scream slip out and shock him. He didn't
release a muscle from the restrained tension he kept them under, not wanting to
lash out at the nearest thing or do something he might regret. Instead, Roscuro
rocked forward on his feet and ducked his head, tucking his forehead against
Newt's shoulder, the dark plastic of his upper-mask digging into the skin
there. He heard more than felt Newt shudder, and he himself closed his eyes,
wishing above all that he could just be suddenly telepathic, that he could
somehow convey to Newt without a moment of doubt that he was his just as much
as he was Percival's.
He didn't expect his wish to be granted, didn't believe it could have been,
anyways, but for a brief moment in the silence, his head on Newt's shoulder,
praying, he thought it may as well have been when he felt Newt's warm fingers
card through his hair. With that first, comforting stroke, Roscuro felt his
entire body go lax without his permission, the rage in him quelling to a gentle
simmer, the pain in his heart vanishing with the abruptness of a knotted muscle
releasing. When he was certain that his hands would cause Newt no harm, he
settled them on the man's hips, first just to touch him, to keep him there, in
front of him, and then to guide his arms around his waist, twisting around
Newt's thin midsection so that he could pull the man even closer, every last
inch between them feeling like a mile.
Newt huffed when he was pulled flat against Roscuro's front, his hand unable to
stroke his hair without twisting uncomfortably, so instead it settled overtop
Roscuro's arms, stroking him through the padded clothing. His clever fingers
ran up and down his forearm, sneaking between the material of Roscuro's glove
and sleeve in order to touch skin, and even that innocent stroke made Roscuro
tremble.
“I'm sorry,” Newt suddenly whispered, and Roscuro merely turned his head on
Newt's shoulder, placing a kiss on his delicate neck. “I shouldn't be so upset
with you. Something must have happened... right? That's what Percival said, at
least...” Roscuro gave him another kiss, slightly higher, and Newt sighed in
his arms.
And then, without much warning, Newt was turning in Roscuro's arms until they
were chest to chest. He looked up into Roscuro's visor, trying to meet his eyes
although he could barely even see the outline, and he asked so genuinely, “Are
you okay, though?” that Roscuro felt he might tear up himself.
He offered Newt a smile, indicating that he was, in fact, just fine, but Newt
didn't seem to buy it. He continued to look into his visor, continued to look
with his brow furrowed and his bottom lip slightly pursed, and really, Roscuro
couldn't not let Newt look at him like that without giving him a soft,
appreciative kiss.
This time, he was better received. Newt tilted his head just the slightest
amount, allowing their mouths to press together more comfortably. His eyes had
slid shut and he nipped almost apologetically at Roscuro's bottom lip, so
Roscuro decided to accept it by allowing Newt inside, greeting him with a warm,
wet tongue and the slightest suckle.
Newt sighed against Roscuro's mouth, more relaxed, more receptive. They
continued to kiss, stroking tongues with a lazy slowness, and Roscuro slowly
walked Newt backward until the redhead was pinned to the bathroom sink,
backside digging into the metal countertop uncomfortably.
Roscuro's hands dripped down, sliding behind Newt's thighs, and their kiss fell
apart when the officer hoisted Newt up onto the counter, being mindful of any
wet spots left behind by messy teenagers. With the space between them, Newt
looked over Roscuro's face, both the covered and uncovered half. Roscuro fit
himself comfortably between Newt's knees, hands settled comfortably on the
thickest part of his thighs, and he smiled under Newt's attention.
“Do you... really like me?” Newt suddenly asked, voice quiet and timid, and
Roscuro answered with a single, confident nod. “Not just because of Percival,
right?”
This time, Roscuro shook his head, the gesture sharp and short. Newt's bottom
lip quivered, his eyes looking wet all over again, and Roscuro feared he may
have replied incorrectly before Newt was suddenly requesting, “Will you—will
you p-prove it?”
Ah. Roscuro didn't need to ask what Newt meant by that. He knew already exactly
what Newt wanted, knew exactly how he was supposed to prove his affection. It
was his original intent, having Newt here in this bathroom, so he wasn't ill-
prepared for it. However, with the rather chaotic spike of emotions between
them mere moments ago, Roscuro felt like new approach would be necessary.
Leaning forward, Roscuro placed one soft peck on Newt's lips, his silent
affirmation that yes, he will prove it to him, and then he was lowering himself
to his knees, his hands on Newt's hips undoing the man's pants and pulling them
down with him. Newt propped himself on his hands, allowing the clothing to be
coaxed away, not at all flinching when his boxers soon followed. Newt licked
his lips almost in tandem with Roscuro, and when the officer went down on him,
Newt felt his body jolt with the electric rush of pleasure. Stubbornly, Newt
refused to let out a noise, and he locked his jaw shut, lips tucked between
teeth as if that could stop the grunts and huffs being squeezed from his lungs.
But Roscuro didn't seem hindered by Newt's silence. Instead, it almost seemed
like he took it as a challenge, or maybe Newt was simply reading too far into
it. Roscuro knelt there between his legs, his back ramrod straight in order to
stay eye-level with Newt's lap, and he gave Newt a quick few slurps, more
introductory, as if he were merely reminding Newt that this was his ultimate
goal, what he would inevitably be after before he pulled away. Instead of
busying his lips and tongue with teasing Newt's sensitive flesh, Roscuro
instead gave his attention to Newt's exposed thighs. He ran his gloves up and
down Newt's calves while he smooched, nipped, nibbled at his legs, not daring
to leave a mark more permanent than the translucent blooms of blush-red left by
his teeth.
From where he stayed between Newt's thighs, Roscuro could hear his pulse rise,
could hear it in the artery that he lingered above. If he pressed his lips down
hard enough, he could feel it as well, thumping in a staccato rhythm.
Newt's head tilted back, the muscles in his throat working as he breathed
noisily from his nose. Roscuro watched him from beneath his visor, lips and
tongue still working, still admiring the taste of his skin and the sensation of
excitement coursing through him. He didn't even have to gaze upon Newt's
intimacy to know how aroused he was. He could feel the heat radiating from him
anyways.
He moved from one thigh to the other, drawing out his teasing ministrations,
ensuring that both thighs received exactly the same amount of attention. He
fascinated himself with painting Newt's pale skin that gorgeous blush, looking
just the right touch of depraved. He stroked a languid tongue from Newt's knee
up his inner thigh, skipping over Newt's arousal so that he could trail back
down on the other side. He could feel Newt quivering, could see the muscles
jumping underneath his skin, and it only made Roscuro smile.
“S-stop teasing,” Newt finally panted, breaking his silence and allowing his
mouth to hang open, “You-you're just making f-fun of me...”
Roscuro grinned at that, unable to help one more indulgent nip at the meat of
Newt's thigh, making the redhead jolt and huff. At the look Newt gave him
afterward, however, Roscuro decided to move on and returned his attention to
where Newt desired him the most.
The head of Newt's cock was already slick, precum breading wetly at the very
tip of it, creating balls of lust that Roscuro broke apart with a clever swipe
of his tongue. His hands continued to stroke and fondle Newt's thighs while
Roscuro massaged the head of Newt's cock with his lips and tongue, coaxing more
precum from his body only to steal it greedily, allowing the taste to fill his
mouth and coat his tongue, flooding every last taste bud of his with Newt.
“Roscuro,” Newt breathed, dazed blue eyes focused on the masked officer
kneeling in front of him. He seemed to be holding back from touching Roscuro
himself, his hands clamped tightly on the edge of the counter, knuckles turning
a pale white from the strain. Roscuro didn't care either way—he knew Newt's
hands would be on him sooner or later.
Glancing at Newt from under his visor, Roscuro watched his face as he finally
sunk down around his flesh, lips sealed tight as he took more and more in,
stretching only to accommodate Newt's girth. The redhead gasped softly, breath
shaking like his thighs, but he didn't take his eyes off of Roscuro, even if
his half-lidded gaze didn't seem focused at all. “Wow,” Newt whimpered, even
though Roscuro was only halfway down his cock. Still, Roscuro rewarded his
quiet praise with a quick suck and a slight twist of his mouth around him,
making Newt's hips jolt and buck all the while.
Newt's hands buried in Roscuro's hair, just like he had predicted, and soon
that incessant pressure on the back of his head had Roscuro descending even
more, not stopping until his nose got in the way, his upper lip being tickled
by the wiry copper pubes dusted around Newt's base. Roscuro twisted his mouth
again, turning his head this way and that until Newt was beginning to crumble
underneath him, breathy whispers of “Roscuro, Roscuro,” coming from the man.
Roscuro didn't think Newt was on the edge. He didn't know the redhead was going
to burst until he was, cock twitching and bursting forth release just as
Roscuro ran his tongue back and forth against the skin in his mouth. Taken by
surprise, Roscuro choked on the sudden influx of come, but he recovered
quickly, throat working double-time to coax the rest of Newt's spend down.
Breathing heavily from his nose, Roscuro gave a few last sucks, a last swipe of
his tongue across the head. He grinned toothily when Newt jolted from over-
stimulation, body twisting in a mix of discomfort and stinging pleasure.
When he had pulled off completely, Newt slumped back against the mirror behind
him, still breathing heavily. Roscuro slowly got up from his knees, licking his
lips to catch the lingering aftertaste, but he didn't take his eyes off the
man. As Newt recovered, Roscuro settled between his thighs, hands placed on the
counter on either side of Newt's hips. The redhead blinked lazily up at
Roscuro, cheeks painted red, and he slowly hooked his legs around Roscuro's
body, keeping him there in front of him.
Lifting his hands, Newt cradled Roscuro's cheeks, stroking the exposed skin of
his face. Roscuro leaned into the touch, turning his head enough to kiss one of
Newt's palms, smiling when the redhead gave a shuddering breath.
“You're not lying, right?” Newt asked him, and Roscuro gave his hand another
kiss before he leaned in and kissed Newt on the mouth. After he pulled away,
Newt huffed, a touch amused, and mumbled, “Whoever said 'actions speak louder
than words' was a lunatic. This is driving me mad. I've never been good at
understanding people...”
Roscuro sighed through his nose, pulling his face from Newt's hands so that he
could press a series of kisses to the man's neck, trailing along his pulse
point, nibbling at the lobe of his ear. From here, he could hear Newt draw
breath.
“I just fear that you think ill of me...” Newt tried to explain, voice quiet,
but Roscuro had no way of reassuring him other than by his touch, which he gave
Newt freely. “That I'm too sensitive.”
Roscuro scraped his teeth along Newt's jawline, making him squirm. His arms
looped around Roscuro's shoulders, one hand running through his black hair.
Roscuro grabbed Newt's hips and pulled him towards the edge of the counter,
exhaling in relief as soon as he felt the sweet press of Newt's heat against
his groin. Newt seemed to catch on immediately with the way he rolled his hips,
urging Roscuro to grind roughly against him, focusing on his pleasure for the
moment.
“Do you want to be in me?” Newt whispered into Roscuro's ear, and Roscuro
shuddered at the thought. He didn't try to act on it, however, even when Newt
took one of Roscuro's hands and brought it down to his still exposed cock,
making Roscuro wrap his fingers around him even though he was no longer hard.
“Want to fuck me?”
Breathing heavily, Roscuro kept his hand loose on Newt's dick and merely kept
rutting against him, perfectly fine with chasing his pleasure this way. He
might look depraved, might look like a damned dog in heat, but he wasn't about
to force Newt to do anything just for his sake. Newt frowned when he realized
Roscuro wasn't going to bring things further, so he stopped him with a firm
hand on his chest. Roscuro leaned away from Newt, breathing hard and looking at
Newt silently. The redhead flushed, embarrassed by the sight of Roscuro
aroused, and he asked, “C-Can I help, somehow?”
Roscuro took a deep breath, licking his lips slowly, then nodded his head. He
took a step back, just to give himself enough space to undo his belt and lower
his pants just enough for his erection to spring free. Newt bit his lip upon
seeing him, grasping him with a firm grip and giving him a few tentative
strokes. As soon as Roscuro let out a luxurious breath, Newt went bright red in
the face and gave a nervous sort of laugh.
Covering his face with his free hand, Newt admitted in a shy voice, “Oh, this
feels so strange...” Roscuro smirked a little, rocking his hips into Newt's
hand, nuzzling his nose and mouth against whatever part of Newt's face he could
reach. He managed to move his hand out of the way so he could kiss him fully,
licking into his warm mouth with a delighted sigh. As they swapped breath and
wet strokes of tongue, Newt tightened his grip on Roscuro's cock, beginning to
put a real effort in his actions. He twisted his fist back and forth, squeezed
tight as he stroked him fully, taking his time to fondle the weeping head.
Roscuro yanked away with a gasp, panting noisily. His head tilted back and his
hips rocked faster, eyes sliding shut underneath his visor. Distantly, he can
hear Newt chuckling, and soon the redhead was muttering humorously, “Percival
is going to be so mad.”
He leaned in, then, kissing Roscuro just underneath his jaw, scraping his teeth
along the visible part of his throat, then sealing his lips there so he could
suck a dark bruise into his skin. Roscuro's breath caught, his face twisting in
pained restraint while his hips bucked. A high-pitched whine squeezed from his
throat, which he clamped down on as quickly as he could. He could hear his
collar beep in warning, and with Newt so close, he didn't want to risk it going
off lest it shocks the both of them.
With a warm breath, Newt whispered against Roscuro's neck, “You're so pretty
like this...” He stroked him just a bit faster, hand slicked by Roscuro's own
precum, and he delighted in the sight of the officer shuddering under his
touch, “Can't believe I'm going to be the first one to see you come...
Percival's going to be so jealous.”
A soft, breathy laugh brought Roscuro dangerously close. He could see lights
dance distantly behind his eyes, just out of his reach, and he jackrabbited his
hips in a desperate attempt to catch them. What ended up bringing him over,
though, was Newt pulling back enough for Roscuro to see the side of his face,
eyes half-lidded, pupils dilated, and the corner of his lip tugged up in a
greedy smirk as he whispered, “I bet he'd snatch you up. Bring you off right in
front of me. Show me you're his.”
He exploded, holding back a loud cry at the last moment, only allowing a pained
gurgle to come through. His collar beeped rapidly, just on the edge of setting
off. Newt gasped underneath Roscuro, tugging on him once, twice more, then
pulling away entirely.
“Bugger,” He grumbled. Roscuro had to blink himself back into focus before he
tilted his head down, blushing when he found Newt's shirt wet with his spend.
Rudely, Roscuro pressed his thumb into the mess, rubbing it further into the
material, and Newt smacked his hands away with an incessant harrumph.
“Bastard!” He chided the officer, swatting him in the shoulder before he shoved
him away so he could hop off the counter. He fixed his pants first, then
proceeded to tug off his shirt so that he could run it under the tap, trying to
work the cum out of it before it dried and stained. Roscuro merely stepped back
from him, adjusting his own pants, though he worked slowly. His muscles felt so
relaxed now, his heart still pounding pleasantly fast. He reached up to
readjust his lower-mask, to cover his face entirely again, but stopped when
Newt whispered, “D-don't.”
Looking up, he saw Newt staring at him through the mirror, eyes wide and
vulnerable. His cheeks were bright red, but he still requested, “Just... not
yet?”
Roscuro smiled, and he let his mask hang. When Newt returned to washing his
shirt, Roscuro stepped up behind him and began to kiss his neck and shoulders,
admiring the bare skin in front of him. He ran gloved hands around Newt's
sides, cupping his stomach, then sliding up to his chest. Newt let him touch
silently, focused more on his shirt, and only spoke up after realizing, “Damn.
There's no hand dryer.”
Roscuro blinked and looked around himself. There really wasn't, and didn't that
just show how much the school cared about their students. They put in so much
money for the campus officers and the riot guards during the Thinning, but not
into fitting every bathroom with a hand dryer. Newt began to laugh in his arms,
and Roscuro looked back at him through the mirror, curious. “You look so
angry,” Newt grinned, wringing out his damp shirt to try and coax the excess
water out, then he held it up and sighed. “I really don't want to put this
on... It's still lunch, right?” He looked at Roscuro, who nodded meekly. “Good.
I have a jacket back in Percival's class that I can wear. It'll look odd, but
it's better than looking like a drowned rat.”
Roscuro made a face, lips twisted in a cringe, and he placed a rather stubborn
kiss on Newt's cheek, making the redhead laugh shyly.
“Ah, stop,” Newt huffed, pushing Roscuro's face away, “You would agree if you
caught me wearing it.”
Again, another kiss, and Newt laughed more, his face a bright red. With his
soaked shirt grasped in his hands, Newt gave Roscuro one last soft smooch on
the lips before whispering, “Come see us sometime soon, yeah? If—If something
happens... you'll let us know this time, won't you?”
Roscuro sighed. He really wanted to be able to promise that he would, but he
couldn't guarantee that Grindelwald wouldn't pull a similar stunt like before.
Seeing Newt looking at him so painfully sad, however, pushed Roscuro to give
him a nod. As soon as the redhead was smiling, Roscuro decided to pull his mask
back into place.
“I'll see you soon,” Newt whispered, smiling and blushing like a schoolboy with
a crush, and he placed one more innocent kiss to Roscuro's mask before
skittering away. He quickly made his way down the hall and back to Percival's
class, checking down each hall to make sure he wasn't about to get caught
shirtless. He was lucky, though, and he made it back to the classroom without a
single witness. He closed the door behind him with a blush, grinning when
Percival looked up at him curiously. Percival looked him over, eyes running
from head to toe, and then he sat up in his seat.
“And the lunch?” He asked, and Newt went absolutely white.
“I—I...” He stuttered, remembering all too late exactly what he had been doing
outside of Percival's classroom. He was worried for a second that Percival
might get mad at him, but the deep sound of his laughter made Newt relax. “I'm
sorry, Percy. I completely forgot...”
“It's alright,” Percival hummed, gesturing openly for Newt to come to him,
which the redhead immediately did. Once he was in reach, Percival grabbed him
and pulled him down onto his lap, placing a soft kiss on the boy's shoulder
before turning his nose towards his neck, taking a whiff. Newt laughed
nervously, especially when Percival hummed in desire, “Someone smells like he
had a good time.”
“S-sorry,” Newt giggled, blushing once more, but Percival merely nuzzled into
his neck more.
“What are you sorry about?” He questioned, giving him a few more kisses,
wrapping his arms around his middle.
“For playing around without you,” Newt said, “I know you were worried about him
too. I should've said no.”
“Hush,” Percival tutted, kissing Newt's cheek, “I like knowing my partners are
enjoying each other. I especially like knowing my partners are happy.” Then he
paused and asked, “You are happy, aren't you, Newton?”
Newt considered the question, really considered it, then said softly, “Yeah....
I think I am.”
With a smile, Percival gave him one more kiss and whispered, “Good.”
For the rest of the week, Percival didn't catch Newt without a smile. The
redhead was really flourishing now that they had Roscuro, his heartache over
losing Credence not completely gone, but glossed over, put on the back burner.
Percival didn't dare bring it up, didn't want to draw attention to it at all,
lest Newt slip back into his grief. Instead, he talked to Newt about Roscuro,
let him whisper his excited little fantasies to Percival in the middle of the
night or talk about how Roscuro looked standing at the entrance of the school
in his armor and mask—as if it wasn't an ordinary sight. Percival listened to
it all with a smile, adoring the way Newt gushed on and on, as if Percival
himself couldn't have realized these things about their new lover.
By Friday, Roscuro still hadn't come to them after class, and Newt was
beginning to get impatient again. With his impatience came a more bitter
personality, less talk about Roscuro, and Percival grew worried. In an attempt
to drag out the good feelings, Percival began talking about his own little
fantasies.
In the weekend at night, Percival wrapped himself around Newt from behind and
whispered filthy things into his ear. Newt would try to fight it. He was
stubborn like that, wanted to be mad all he could, but he would end up writhing
in Percival's strong arms, hands wrapped tight around his cock, the bed shaking
from how desperately he worked himself. He'd moan a mix of Roscuro and
Percival's name as he trembled to pieces, the only thing holding him together
being Percival. He made a mess of their beds thrice in one night, each time
threatening to go to sleep before Percival purred his dirty imagination into
Newt's ear. On the third go, Newt tried to physically stop him, covering
Percival's mouth with his messy hand, shoving and hitting him on his chest when
that didn't stop him, and then feverishly fucking himself on three fingers when
he couldn't take it any longer. Percival guided him through it, playing
Roscuro's part as much as he was playing his own, letting Newt fall apart one
more time against their stomachs.
That Monday, Newt walked into school beside Percival with his face bright red
and his head ducked. He clutched his and Percival's lunch bag to his chest and
tried to avoid Roscuro's gaze, but the officer stopped them by grabbing Newt's
arm and yanking him to a halt. The redhead gasped in shock, blinking up angrily
at Roscuro, about to lash out at being manhandled when the officer pointed at
the bag.
Surprised, Newt blurted, “What? It's just lunch. Are you really checking
faculty now?”
“Just give him the bag, Newton.” Percival sighed, obviously not wanting to
stand around any longer, and the Brit gave in with an irritated grunt, shoving
the bag into Roscuro's arms.
“Tosser,” He muttered under his breath, and Percival reached out and grabbed
Newt by the back of his neck, massaging the tense muscles there until the boy
was relaxing. Roscuro didn't react. He merely dug through their lunch as if he
was really checking for contraband, and when he found none, he zipped the bag
up and handed it back over.
“Thank you,” Percival said genuinely, and then he gave Newt a slight shake
before he, too, was muttering, “Thanks.”
Roscuro bobbed his head once, then gestured for them to go inside. Just as they
stepped through the doors, the other officer standing there with Roscuro called
out, “See you two after school.”
Newt nearly stopped in his tracks if it wasn't for Percival pushing him
forward. Percival didn't stop them for even a second until they got to his
classroom. Once inside, Newt practically exploded with excitement.
“Do you think he means Roscuro?” Newt asked breathlessly, leaning on Percival's
desk while the man finished up some work, “Do you think Roscuro's going to come
today? Do you think he'll finally join us?”
“We'll see, Newton,” Percival hummed, a small smile tugging at his lips. Newt
all but whined impatiently, and Percival had to hold back a laugh.
“If he does come, I want to kiss him first.” Newt declared with a grin, “And I
want to make him come first.”
“Newton Scamander,” Percival chided, although the grin on his lips didn't
falter, “Disgusting.”
Newt only giggled, though, not at all intimidated by Percival's words. He gave
the man a thrilled little kiss before whispering, “I'll only let you have him
when you get me off.”
Growling, Percival said in a low voice, “I can get you off right now, boy. Do
you really want me to?”
Newt trembled excitedly, pupils blown and cheeks flushed, his bottom lip being
chewed on by his teeth. “We only have fifteen minutes before the bell rings...”
He mentioned, daring, “And I know your first period loves to be early.”
“Maybe I'll love to have you under my desk,” Percival smirked, and Newt gasped
at him, perfectly scandalized.
“In front of the children, Percival? And you called me disgusting.”
Percival hummed delightedly, then pulled Newt in for a heated kiss before
whispering to him, “Look what I've done to you. I've made you selfish, haven't
I? Completely spoiled once you come out of your shell, aren't you?”
With one last chuckle, Newt shook his head and said, “Only for you. Promise.”
“Mhm. So I expect you'll be all shy and innocent when Roscuro does come around,
will you?”
Newt hesitated, considering it for a long moment before admitting, “Okay, maybe
for you and him. We'll see.”
“We will, won't we.” Percival grinned, then he slapped Newt on the thigh and
growled, “Get to your desk, boy, before I shove you underneath mine.”
With that excited grin back in place, Newt hurried over to his desk and made
himself comfortable, so cocky that he even put his feet up on his desk while he
turned on his IGlass. He regained his decorum as soon as the students came in,
however, sitting properly with his back straight and his eyes on his tablet.
The students, thank god, hadn't a clue of what their professor and his TA might
be doing for their extracurriculars.
In-between classes, Newt absolutely fidgeted in his seat and complained about
the wait. Percival found him completely endearing, but he knew his nerves would
only get worse the longer he waited. “Do you want to go take a walk?” Percival
asked between third and fourth period, and Newt gave him the most pitiful look
he could muster.
“I want to go for a wank,” He huffed, keeping his voice low in case a student
wandered in early, “But I'm worried that if I do, I won't want to do anything
else afterward.”
“Don't be silly. You're barely eighteen. You have more hormones packed in you
than the faculty combined.” Percival reassured him, a small smile on his lips.
Then, to give Newt a little more incentive, he leaned in and whispered to him,
“Why don't you go and give yourself some relief, hmm? Take your tablet with you
and record it. We can sneak it to Roscuro for him to watch later. Would you
like that?”
Newt answered by scrambling to grab his IGlass and getting to his feet, face
flushed and heart pounding so loud Percival thought he could hear it. Just as
Newt scurried out of the classroom, Percival called out after him, “Take your
time, Newton,” And soon after, students began to wander in. They were curious
about Newt's whereabouts, but none of them cared enough to ask. They merely
came in, took their seats, and upon the ring of the bell, they focused on
Percival and his lecture.
But now that Newt was off to take care of his arousal, Percival found his own
mind wandering. What was Newt doing right now? Was he really taking his time
like Percival told him to, or was he already shoving a finger or two into
himself, bringing himself off in the most debased way? Would he really want to
go through with showing Percival and then Roscuro the video, or would he delete
it immediately after from embarrassment?
And then he was wondering what Roscuro would do. Maybe he'd take it to wherever
the officers went at night and watch it, bringing himself off to Newt's video
in private. Or maybe he slept in bunks like they did in the army, and would
have to hide himself and the tablet under his blankets while he watched. Maybe
he would get so turned on that he just couldn't keep his hands away from
himself. Or maybe he'd let it all build up inside of him, only to snap the next
day when he saw Newt. Maybe he'd barge into the classroom before first period
or during lunch, throw Newt over the nearest flat surface and go right to town
on him. Percival smirked. He would just sit back at his desk and watch Newt
squirm.
He let out a long sigh, and then jolted back to reality when one of his
students called out timidly, “Prof. Graves?”
“What?” He blurted, blinking back to his classroom, feeling his face burn in an
unfamiliar way when he realized he was just daydreaming. In the middle of his
own class.His students, damn them, began to laugh.
“Feeling tired, Professor?” One of them teased, and Percival glowered at them,
but that only made them laugh harder. “Had a long night grading papers?”
“I don't have to grade anything if I plan on failing you all anyways.” He
threatened, but nothing was going to get his students under control now. All
they needed was a little kindling and they could start a whole fire.
“I bet his wife likes to keep him up at night,” One of the girls claimed, a few
others wolf-whistling in agreement, “Man like Prof. Graves has to have a pretty
little thing on his arm.”
“Let's not talk about my social life, please,” Percival groused, and now the
boys began to laugh.
“The only thing Prof. Graves has hanging off his arm is his work!” One shouted,
a few of the girls huffing and clicking their tongues.
“Do you see a ring on his finger? I didn't think so.” Another young man pointed
out.
“That only means he's not married, not that he's single,” One girl huffed, only
to then grin and say salaciously, “Unless.... are you single, Prof. Graves?
Because I might know a... friend of mine that has a thing for older men.”
“Disgusting,” Percival huffed, rolling his eyes a tad dramatically, “You're a
minor, Tracy. Not only is that illegal, but it's absolutely inappropriate.
We're here to talk about science, not my personal life.”
“You're the one who drifted off mid-sentence!” Another student taunted, looking
completely delighted, “So what was it, then? What got the professor so
distracted today?”
“I'm telling you, he has a girlfriend if not a wife!” One of the girls claimed.
“She's gotta be young though if she's keeping this old man up at night,” One
guy snorted, leaning back in his seat, “Or he's gotta be packing that Viagra.”
“Enough!” Percival shouted, slamming a fist on the table, “You want to know
what I was thinking about? Fine!” The classroom door opened, but Percival was
already yelling, “I was thinking about my damned boyfriend, you miscreants! The
only damned reason I don't have a ring on my finger is because it's still
fucking illegal to be gay in this god damned country! If it wasn't for your
homophobic government and your stupid fucking Thinning singling out anyone with
any individuality left in their bleached out minds, I could have been married
ages ago!”
The whole classroom was blessedly silent, save for the ragged breathing from
Percival himself. He was still seeing red, he was still so irate from these
damned kids that he didn't notice the newcomers until a slow clap shocked him
back into reality.
Everyone jerked around to see just who it was, and Percival felt his blood run
cold. He stood up straight, cleared his throat, then uttered, “W-We should get
back on topic, everybody.”
“Oh, please,” Grindelwald grinned, flanked by Roscuro and two other officers,
both of whom had their hands clasped tightly on their nightsticks. Roscuro was
the only one with both hands free. “Do continue your little tirade, Mr. Graves.
Don't stop on my account.”
Percival cleared his throat again but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he
grabbed his teacher's edition textbook and picked the first paragraph he saw,
reading from it diligently. The students quickly ducked their heads, following
along silently, trying not to arouse suspicion themselves. Grindelwald watched
on, his smile twisting into a scowl, and he said loud enough to talk over
Graves, “The Government is doing their best to ensure America's future is
bright and productive.” Percival fell silent, and again, the class was turning
their heads to give Grindelwald their attention. The man made his way to the
front of the classroom, Roscuro and the two others following him dutifully, and
Grindelwald faced the students, “If it weren't for the Thinning, our country
would be overrun by simpletons. Our streets would be lined with the
impoverished and homeless. We wouldn't have the right men and women to fill
positions in STEM fields. America would fall apart, with too many waifs
demanding hand-outs and too many whores popping out more retarded fucking
children.”
Facing Percival, Grindelwald spat out, “And if your kind had their way, you'd
brainwash our youth to follow your homosexual lifestyles. You'd turn every one
of these innocent young men and women into filthy fucking faggots. I bet this
is the sort you target anyways, isn't it? The young sort? Do little boys get
you off, Professor?”
Percival bit his lip, jaw clenched tight, and fought every fiber of his being
not to clock the man in his face. He wanted to spit at Grindelwald, call him
out on his bullshit, easily remembering that this hypocrite had blackmailed his
Credence into having sex with him before. He wanted to call him out on it, but
there was no way he'd be able to, not without bringing suspicion on himself.
In the end, the one to stop Grindelwald's tirade was Roscuro, who approached
him from behind and put a hand on his shoulder, urging him away from Percival.
The man flinched at first, looking ready to lash out at his officer just for
touching him, but seemed to remember his place and decided he had done enough.
Turning away from Percival, Grindelwald announced, “Calling out your pansy
professor was not my original intent when I came into this classroom, however.
I've come to announce--”
The door opened once again and Percival felt his heart skip when Newt clamored
in, face flushed and hair a bit sweaty. He startled at the sight of Grindelwald
and his men, nearly dropping his IGlass in the meantime. Grindelwald and his
officers all stared up at him, along with the rest of the class, and Newt
nervously cleared his throat, ducked his head, and hurried over to his desk,
sinking down into his seat and remaining quiet. Grindelwald eyed him for a bit
longer, but eventually cleared his throat and turned back, saying, “Anyway,”
“I've come to announce that, until further notice, we will be stationing an
officer in each classroom for supervision.” Immediately, the students shouted
their displeasure, a few of them rattling their seats as they threw themselves
back in their chairs. Grindelwald's lips pinched, and with a snap of his
fingers, the officers—excluding Roscuro—tugged out their batons and extended
them with a flick of their wrists, the ominous crack of the steel rod extending
silencing the youth in mere seconds. Roscuro jumped where he stood, looking
from one officer to the other in surprise. Without a word, he reached out and
tugged at Grindelwald's arm, but Grindelwald smacked his hand off of him with
no remorse.
Speaking loudly, Grindelwald explained, “This is for the safety of yourselves
and the faculty. Until we find out which one of you ungrateful brats set this
school on fire, we'll be taking precautions in order to keep it from happening
a second time.” He waited for a second longer, just daring the students to
speak up again, and when they remained silent, he gestured to his officers,
“Bennett. Clarke. You're both staying here.”
“I thought you said one officer,” Percival said, but Grindelwald merely sneered
at him.
“After your little 'gay agenda' tirade, you're lucky I'm not stationing more in
your class.” He spat out, and Percival bit his tongue, knowing it was pointless
to argue.
But Newt, poor boy, did not. “Gay agenda?” He questioned, lifting his head, “I-
I'm sorry, are we back in the bloody twenty-first century?”
Rolling his eyes, Grindelwald said in a lazy tone, “You may not recall, Mr.
Scamander, but homosexuality is illegal in America. Or letting them marry is,
at least. Lord knows we could reach our five percent faster if we killed them
all off.”
Newt blinked, just once, and then burst into laughter. Percival cringed and
dropped his head. Grindelwald looked absolutely affronted, but Newt wasn't
about to let this go.
“I'm—I'm sorry, did you just imply that you wanted to kill off homosexual
individuals? As in men and women like yourself?”
“Newt,” Percival warned, but now the students were whispering and Grindelwald's
wide-eyed stare only fed the fire.
“Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Grindelwald, sir, but I seem to recall a certain
campus officer blackmailing a student—a male student nonetheless—into giving
him a half-assed blowjob in the security office!”
A series of shocked 'ooh!'s echoed through the class so quickly that Percival
nearly missed the way Roscuro snorted back a laugh, hand coming up to cover the
front of his mask.
“You're deranged if you think I would do something like that!” Grindelwald
snarled, and Newt threw his hands up in surrender, although his sarcastic tone
was anything but apologetic.
“You're right, Mr. Grindelwald. I must have imagined the whole thing. It's not
like you threatened to fail the both of us on the Thinning if he didn't comply-
-”
“Newton,” Percival hissed out.
“And it's not like I was nearly marched to my death anyway!”
“You piece of shit,” Grindelwald spat.
“If there's anyone with an agenda in this classroom, Mr. Grindelwald, it's you.
You and your crooked officers!”
Even Roscuro was lifting his hands, trying to get Newt to settle down, but the
man was on a roll now.
“Your Thinning is nothing but America picking and choosing who they want to
stay alive! The only similarity those who fail the Thinning have aren't their
lack of intelligence, but their lack of support for their shite government!”
Gritting his teeth, Grindelwald uttered, “It looks like you and your boss share
very similar ideals, don't you? Maybe I should be looking into the faculty
after all. I wouldn't be surprised if one of you radicals were the ones to
start the fire.”
Keeping his ground, Newt declared, “Protesting your government is what
Americans are about, and I will gladly partake in a peaceful protest myself, as
is my right now that I am, too, American, but I will never condone the violence
and anger displayed in that fire.”
“Easy to say.” Grindelwald hummed, lifting his brows, “But hard to prove.”
“I don't need to prove my innocence,” Newt stated firmly.
“No, but it's far easier to prove someone guilty when you're in control of the
cameras.” Grindelwald threatened.
“Then look at your bloody cameras. You'll find no record of me anywhere near
that fire.” Newt huffed, “And when you're done trying to drag me through the
mud, you can come back and apologize. Both to myself and to Mr. Graves.” He
paused long enough to allow Grindelwald to speak, but when the officer didn't,
Newt merely gave a firm nod, took a deep breath, then said, “Now please,
station your one officer and get out of the classroom. Y-you are disrupting the
lesson.”
Grinding his teeth so hard the entire class could hear it, Grindelwald ended up
muttering, “Clarke. Stand guard. And be vigilant,” before he turned and marched
out of the room, Bennett following closely after. Roscuro took a few hesitant
steps, eyes glued on Newt. Newt anxiously glanced up at him, hands trembling at
his sides.
“Roscuro! Let's go!” Grindelwald barked, and Roscuro took a few more steps
backward before offering Newt a supportive thumbs-up.
Clarke took her spot at the back of the classroom. The students all remained
silent. Percival waited a few more moments after the door closed, then resumed
reading from the textbook, his lesson thrown out the window as well as the
classroom's attention. Newt sank down into his chair, running his hands over
his face in exhaustion. God, he was really sticking his neck out there, wasn't
he? He could hardly believe what he had done... but it was for Percival and, in
a way, for Credence.
Besides, who did Grindelwald think he was, threatening his partner like that?
Saying he wanted to kill off homosexuals when he, himself, was one? It was
just... stupid.
 
***** Climax (?) *****
Chapter Summary
     I believe we have reached the beginning of the end for this fic!
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
When the bell rang, signaling the start of lunch, Clarke left his post as the
students began to pack their things together. Newt remained in his seat, arms
crossed and a frown set firm on his face, and he only startled to attention
when one of the students called out, “Mr. Scamander?”
Looking up, he found the entire class standing in front of his desk, crowding
around him, and he suddenly felt overwhelmed. Percival, standing behind his own
desk, looked on with a small smile, a fond look in his eyes.
“Er... Yes?” He asked, shoulders lifting to his ears.
All at once, the students exploded into praise.
“That was amazing! You just stood up to Grindelwald!”
“Were you being serious about the protest thing?”
“Protests? I want to know if he was serious about Grindelwald propositioning a
student! Imagine the headlines!”
“Did you actually set the fire?”
“Just to let you know, my parents are all for gay marriage.”
“You're really brave, Mr. Scamander! I wish I had half the balls that you do!”
“I've never seen Grindelwald that mad before! You really showed him what for!”
“I thought you were going to throw down for a minute!”
“You've got to be an officer in disguise, the way you handled that was
awesome!”
“Alright, alright,” Percival thankfully stepped in, waving the kids away, “Give
him a little space. You're scaring him, now.”
And Newt definitely was a bit scared, if not overwhelmed by the sheer gratitude
these students were showing him. As Percival got them to thin out, one girl, in
particular, approached Newt, going so far as to take his hand and give it a
firm shake.
“I heard you stood up to Roscuro before, that day he intervened in that fight.
If you didn't do it, no one would have.”
“O-Oh...” Newt breathed, staring up at her in amazement. That felt so long ago,
Newt barely even remembered it. “I-I'm sure any one of you would have.”
“With our lives on the line?” She smiled sadly, then shook her head, “I'm not
the only one who appreciates what you've done. Thank you.”
Without anything more to say, the girl let go of Newt and left, the last to
vacate the room. Percival watched with his hands tucked into his pockets, then
looked back at Newt with a smile.
“Don't,” Newt warned, but it was too late.
“My little anarchist,” Percival cooed, approaching Newt's desk and pinching his
cheek playfully, “You're so sexy when you're dismantling the government one
asshole at a time.”
Groaning loudly, Newt dropped his head onto his desk and whined, mumbling into
his arms, “I've never felt so stupid! Grindelwald already has it out for me!
I'm just making him hate me more!”
“Then it's good that he can't legally touch you,” Percival stated, running his
fingers through Newt's hair to soothe him, “None of his pigs can unless they
want a lawsuit on their hands.”
Newt snorted, then, and he peeked up from under his arms to say, “They already
have a lawsuit on their hands if they find out what we've been doing with one
officer in particular.”
“Well can they blame him?” Percival chuckled, “A hot piece of activist ass like
you flaunting around so noisily? It's a wonder he can keep his hands off you.”
Laughing, Newt buried his face in his arms again and muttered, “Stop it.” Then,
remembering why he even had to speak up in the first place, Newt peeked up and
asked, “Are you okay? It sounded like something had happened before I came in.”
Percival frowned, looking embarrassed, then explained, “I sort of lost myself
in the middle of class to my own thoughts. The class decided to mock me and I
ended up preaching about homophobia and rights and all that.” Sighing, Percival
ran a hand down his face, and admitted, “It was juvenile of me. I shouldn't
have snapped.”
“I guess Grindelwald heard it, huh?” Newt guessed, frowning himself.
“Yeah. Caught the tail-end of it.” Percival grunted, shaking his head, “Again.
Juvenile.”
Newt smiled a little, then stood up and squeezed himself between Percival and
his desk, saying softly, “I wish I was there to hear it. I bet you get really
s-sexy when you're passionate.”
“Passionate,” Percival scoffed, putting his hands on Newt's waist and keeping
their bodies flush, “I wasn't passionate—I was angry. Nothing attractive about
that.”
“Hmm. Eye of the beholder and such,” Newt said dismissively, leaning up for a
kiss. Then, playfully, Newt said, “Well, since we've both put ourselves on
death row via Grindelwald, what shall we do with our final hours?”
“Grindelwald isn't going to kill us,” Percival chuckled, “Much less in hours.
If he even tries to touch you, I'll catch him right in his stupid 'stache.”
“Ooh, get angry for me,” Newt teased, lifting himself to sit on his desk, feet
swinging happily, “Tell me what other filthythings you'll do to him.”
Laughing, Percival uttered, “Gross, Newton.” He leaned down to give the boy
another kiss, and it was just in the middle of it did the classroom door burst
open.
Percival startled backward and Newt hopped to his feet, both of them bright red
and wide-eyed from being caught, but when they looked at the intruder they only
found a rather breathless looking Roscuro, already shoving the door shut and
locking it with one hand while the other fiddled with his lower-mask.
“R-Roscuro?” Newt squawked when the officer began to approach him, and Percival
had half a mind to intervene just as the man grabbed Newt and kissed him
roughly. Newt squealed against Roscuro's mouth, pleasantly surprised, and he
slowly began to kiss him back, mouth falling slack as Roscuro forced his way
in. Percival crossed his arms and watched with a smile, enjoying the wet, slick
noises coming from his boys, accompanied by soft gasps and whines from the
redhead.
As soon as the two broke apart, Percival declared, “I told you it was sexy,”
which Newt replied to with an embarrassed groan. Holding Roscuro close by the
straps of his bullet-proof vest, Newt tucked his head against his shoulder.
“He won't stop teasing me!” Newt complained, blushing when Roscuro wrapped his
arms around him almost protectively. When Percival burst into laughter, Newt
peeked up to see Roscuro bravely flipping the man the bird, promptly followed
by the officer grabbing Percival by his front and yanking him into a kiss. Now
it was Newt's turn to watch in a daze as Percival and Roscuro locked lips,
biting down on his lip when he spied Percival's tongue press past Roscuro's
teeth.
Flushing red, Newt whispered, “I-I really do have a lot of hormones...” and
Percival broke away with a sharp laugh.
“Don't get too excited,” He chided, looking down fondly at Newt, “I don't think
our friend here can stay for long, can he?”
Roscuro absolutely pouted as he shook his head, already beginning to pull away
from them, looking for all the world like it was hurting him to do so. Newt
desperately asked, “But you're coming back after school, right? W-we can—We'll
see you later today, right?”
Smiling this time, Roscuro gave a firm nod, and Newt could barely restrain
himself, he was so excited. He wanted to leave Roscuro with something sexy,
something to get him excited about coming back, but of course, Percival had to
ruin it by saying, “Newt's already jacked off once today in anticipation for
later. Now he's going to be absolutely insatiable.”
“Percival!” Newt shouted, burning bright red.
“What? It's true. That's where he was during Grindelwald's little tirade;
Tucked safely in the bathroom, fucking himself to the thought of you.”
Roscuro bared his teeth, looking even more pained, though he still backed away
from them. In one last gesture, Roscuro pointed directly at Newt, almost
threateningly. Newt sat stiff, breath caught, and was already whispering, “A-
anything—Anything you want. I'm y-yours.”
Roscuro gave a heavy breath, then nodded and left the class, every muscle in
him tense. As soon as he left, Newt was turning his desperate little doe-eyes
on Percival, and the man could do nothing but roll his eyes and say, “Pants
off. I'll take care of it for you.”
“I love you, Percy,” Newt gasped as he tugged open his jeans, and the man
merely huffed in amusement before he lowered himself to his knees in front of
Newt, mostly obscured by the desk.
Barely ten minutes later marked the second time Newt came in anticipation for
Roscuro's arrival later, and while Newt sat boneless in his chair, still trying
to catch his breath and regain his composure, Percival sat behind his desk,
eating his lunch with a smirk on his face. Newt struggled to even pull his
pants straight, much less blather out, “How do you st-stay so calm?”
“Simple. I'm in my thirties. Much more time to get all of this,” He gestured to
his own lap, “Under control.”
“Wanker,” Newt huffed fondly, running his hands through his sweaty hair, “I-
I bet Roscuro and I c-could get you just as w-worked up.”
“Hm. Maybe you can try when you're a little less worked up yourself,” Percival
teased, eyeing the boy smugly, “The moment Roscuro steps in this classroom,
you're going to have your hands all over him. I bet you.”
Newt huffed again, shaking his head weakly, but ultimately admitting, “I feel
bloody exhausted already. It'll be a miracle if I can even get up for him.”
“I'm sure you'll do just fine.” Percival cackled, holding out Newt's own lunch,
“Eat up. I don't want you complaining during fifth period that you're hungry.”
Shortly before lunch ended, Clarke reentered the classroom and took her
position at the back of the room. However, mere moments later, another officer
was stepping inside, approaching Clarke and sharing some quiet words with her.
Newt and Percival watched quietly, trying not to look suspicious, but when
Clarke stepped out of the classroom and was replaced by the new officer, Newt
and Percival couldn't help but share a look.
They didn't have time to consider it, though. The bell rang and students began
to file in, one by one. They would just have to ignore the change out and focus
on the lesson. The students all seemed shaken by the sight of the officer, but
none of them made a comment, wisely enough. Percival deigned not to mention it
either, not wanting to give Grindelwald the satisfaction of knowing that he was
intimidating everyone, not just the students. The lesson dragged on slowly,
everyone hyper-aware of the officer in the back of the room, flinching whenever
she made a noise loud enough to be heard at the front of the class.
Luckily, nothing big happened. The officer remained in her place for the
remaining two periods, and when the bell rang for the end of the school day,
she followed the students out of the classroom, leaving Newt and Percival to
themselves.
Percival began tucking his things away, wanting to keep his hands busy, and he
asked Newt, “Well? Still feeling exhausted?”
Newt shifted in his seat, cheeks flushed, and he shyly shook his head no.
Percival chuckled, distantly jealous of his youth, and he said, “Shouldn't be
long now. Although I'm curious, did you end up recording yourself earlier?”
Blushing even brighter, Newt bobbed his head up and down, whispering, “I did.
It was very embarrassing, by the way.”
“I'm certain,” Percival drawled, disbelieving, and he dug through his drawers
until he found a USB. He tossed it to Newt, who caught it with surprising
skill. “Save the video on that. We'll give it to him after.”
“O-Okay,” Newt mumbled, plucking the USB into the proper port on his tablet and
tapping away on the screen. When he dragged the video over, he huffed and set
the tablet down, “It's transferring. God—what if it gets into the wrong hands,
Percival? What if—What if Roscuro shares it?”
“He won't.” Percival sighed, going over to Newt and giving him a kiss on his
forehead, “You can't think like that, Newt. Especially with your partners. You
have to trust him, just a little.”
Frowning, Newt admitted, “It's hard to. Especially for—for me.”
“I know.” Percival hummed, kissing him again, “I promise you, nothing will
happen. If you can't trust him, then trust me.”
With a deep breath, Newt mumbled, “Okay. I trust you.”
“Good.” Percival smiled, just as the classroom door opened. Peeking over his
shoulder to ensure it was Roscuro, Percival said pleasantly, “Well, it looks
like the wait is over.” Roscuro closed and locked the door, taking his time
compared to the frenzy he had shown earlier, and he completely undid his lower-
mask, tossing it onto one of the desks as he made his way towards them.
“Welcome back.”
Roscuro barely nodded his head in greeting before he was approaching Newt,
cornering the redhead against his desk. Newt gave a shuddering gasp, eyes wide
and vulnerable, but with the first kiss, he was already melting. Sighing
pleasantly, Newt allowed Roscuro to pick him up and slide him onto the desk,
kissing him deeply, distracting him with the rough caress of his tongue while
he tugged Newt's clothes open. Newt whined against his lips, barely lifting his
hips to allow Roscuro to yank off his pants, and then he broke away with a
grunt when Roscuro started to tug off his shirt, pulling it off over his head.
Percival paced around them, eyes dark as he took in Newt's exposed body against
Roscuro's completely covered form. When Roscuro grabbed Newt by the wrists and
pulled him up from the desk, just to spin him around and bend him over it,
Percival all but grinned. Newt's face was completely flushed, his own eyes
heavy and dilated, and he barely looked up at Percival before he reached out to
him, drawing the man in with a simple beckoning hand.
Percival approached from the other side of the desk, brushing his hand against
Newt's cheek, then sliding his thumb past the panting boy's lips. He watched as
Roscuro dropped down behind Newt, his face vanishing between Newt's thighs, and
the redhead jolted with a muffled moan, eyes sliding shut.
“Feel good?” Percival hummed, allowing Newt to seal his lips completely around
Percival's thumb, sucking on it while he rocked his hips backward against
Roscuro's face. “You look gorgeous from here."
Roscuro pulled back from Newt's backside with a huff, then scraped his teeth
roughly against the skin of his ass before he dove back in, one of his hands
dipping down to press inside. Percival ran his tongue along his bottom lip,
pressing down on Newt's tongue to force his jaw open. Newt's hands fumbled
along the edge of the desk, then eventually made their way to Percival's pants.
He tugged the front of them open, panting heavily as he yanked them open, and
as soon as he had Percival's cock out, he pulled back from Percival's thumb and
did all he could to get his erection into his mouth. Percival laughed at his
attempts, but he remained just barely out of reach, forcing the boy to jut out
his tongue as he tried to nab a taste. Newt whimpered and whined, tugging
fitfully at Percival's pants, but when the man refused to budge he shoved him
back and whined out, “Percival! Please!”
“Ah, ah, don't be impatient.” Percival tutted, pulling further back from him
despite Newt's desperate protests. Still, he was rocking backward against
Roscuro's face and hand. “I want to see Roscuro fuck you.”
At that, Roscuro's head jolted up, and Newt slumped against the table with a
sob, his hips trembling from the lack of stimulation. Roscuro seemed to be
looking at Percival, mouth sloppy with his own saliva after eating Newt out,
and Percival grinned before saying, “Come on, don't tell me you don't want to.
Get your pants off and fuck him.”
Not needing to be told a third time, Roscuro scrambled to his feet and started
fumbling with his belt and pants. Newt, still breathing heavily, peered over
his shoulder to watch Roscuro pull himself out, and he mumbled, “Th-there's
lube in the d-drawer. Third fro-from the b-bottom.”
Wiping his mouth clean with one hand, Roscuro dug through Newt's drawers
haphazardly, making the contents rattle noisily as he hunted for the bottle of
lubricant. As soon as he discovered it, he nearly dropped it in his haste to
pop it open.
“Take it easy,” Percival laughed, walking back around the table, giving himself
a few strokes as he found himself the best spot to watch from. “He's come twice
for you, Roscuro. Make it worthwhile.”
Breathing hard as if he had been running for twenty minutes, Roscuro uncapped
the bottle and poured over Newt's ass with shaking hands. He rubbed the
lubricant around with one hand, spreading the glistening liquid around until
his entire backside was wet. Newt trembled, his arms crossed under his chin,
watching over his shoulder with a blush. Roscuro pressed in a thumb all the way
to the second number, pulled it back out, then slid in two fingers, working
them to the knuckle before twisting clockwise.
“God,” Newt gasped, his knees knocking together. Roscuro swallowed thickly,
taking his time to make sure the man was stretched, then he pulled his fingers
out, grabbed one of Newt's ankles, and flipped the redhead over so quick he
couldn't help the startled shout.
Laying completely on his desk, now, Roscuro shoved Newt's legs apart, slotted
himself right in between, then shoved himself impatiently into Newt's body,
making the redhead shout and squirm underneath him, gripping the desk with one
hand and clinging to Roscuro's vest strap with the other. As Roscuro sank
further and further into him, Newt let out a progressively higher-pitched
whine, his thighs absolutely trembling as his body was breached.
The second Roscuro was fully seated in him, Newt all but collapsed against the
table, ankles crossing behind Roscuro's back with his knees clutching his waist
tightly. Roscuro ran his hands up and down Newt's thighs, trying to soothe the
tremors from them, watching quietly as Newt's head lulled from side to side.
“Tell him what you want,” Percival ordered in a rough voice, fondling himself
slowly, keeping the pleasure a constant buzz underneath his skin without taking
it too far too quickly. Newt whimpered, running a hand down his body, grasping
himself and squeezing around the base before letting go and running his hand
back up to his chest.
Roscuro gripped Newt's thighs tightly, breathing raggedly as Newt felt himself
up, his body fluttering warmly around him.
“Newton,” Percival tutted, tired of waiting, but the redhead was lost to the
world, fondling and flicking at his nipple, squeezing down rhythmically around
Roscuro. His head dropped to the side, eyes sliding shut, and a thick line of
drool spilled from the corner of his mouth.
“Scamander,” Percival huffed, letting go of himself and furrowing his brows.
When Newt still didn't respond, Percival looked at Roscuro and commanded him,
“Fuck him roughly.”
Unlike Newt, Roscuro was ready to listen, and he didn't even have to give a nod
before he obeyed. Holding Newt in place by his waist, Roscuro planted his feet
firmly and, without a warning or giving Newt a moment to comprehend what was
happening, Roscuro pulled back and began a violent pace, slamming Newt so hard
that the redhead threw his head back with a shrill cry, his body twisting and
jolting as he tried to adjust. When he could worm his way out of Roscuro's
steel grip, he scrabbled at Roscuro's arms instead, clawing at the padded
sleeves as he tried to ground himself. His back arched beautifully against the
table, tears spilling from his eyes and more spittle dripping along his agape
mouth.
“Stop,” Percival demanded, and with a few final, stuttering jolts, Roscuro
managed to come to a complete halt, though his muscles shook and his hands
squeezed down on Newt's body. The redhead dropped back down on the desk,
gasping for breath and nearly vibrating apart. Percival approached the two of
them, running an approving hand through Roscuro's hair, then asked Newt, “Are
you listening now?”
Immediately, Newt nodded his head with a vigor. Percival smirked and asked,
“Did you like it rough?” Again, another impatient nod. “Tell Roscuro you want
it rough.”
Newt whimpered and jerked stubbornly against the table. Percival approached
him, standing opposite to Roscuro—who looked ready to snap himself—and he
cradled Newt's head with both hands, tilting it back until the boy was looking
at him. “Newton,” He said in his rough voice. Newt blinked up at him through
his tears, jaw clenching tight, “Tell him.”
With a shaking gasp, Newt looked back at Roscuro. His cheeks were burning, his
heart racing in embarrassment, but he managed to blurt, “I-I want it r-
rough...”
“Say 'please,'” Percival coaxed, earning another pitiful whimper from his boy,
but he obeyed without hesitation this time.
“P-Please...” He begged, breaking off into a moan when Roscuro began to grind
his hips against Newt's ass, unable to hold still any longer. The pleasure was
dull, however, and Newt's legs clamped down on him like a vice, panting out,
“Y-yes, more, please!”
“Tell him to fuck you,” Percival purred, and Newt barely waited a second before
he cried out the words.
“Fuck me! Please, God, Ro-Roscuro, fuck me-e-e!” He pleaded desperately, and
with a brief nod from Percival, Roscuro pulled Newt close and resumed his
brutal pace. Newt shouted in delight, his voice bouncing with each vicious
thrust Roscuro gave. With one hand holding onto the desk, Newt threw his other
hand backward, catching Percival by his shirt and twisting it in his grip.
Percival grinned and ran his hand soothingly over Newt's chest, flirting along
his nipples, making his body tremble. He peered up at Roscuro, watching the way
he bared his teeth, the way sweat rolled down his jaw, the way his nails dug
into Newt's skin, leaving bright red lines trailing jagged down his sides.
“Do you like how my boy feels?” Percival purred, and Roscuro dropped his head
forward, mouth hanging open, although nothing louder than his panting breath
came. “Do you like how he looks? How he sounds?”
Newt wailed, turning his head in an attempt to hide it against his lifted arm,
and Percival stroked a thumb down the pounding vein in his neck. “You're
certainly being greedy with him, aren't you?” Percival teased, “Maybe I should
make you stop, show you how to really fuck him.”
With a growl, as possessive as it is seductive, Roscuro slammed a hand down on
the desk beside Newt's body, arching over him like some feral beast. His hips
stuttered to a halt, more interested in protecting his keep than fucking, even
though Newt all but wept in distress. He tugged at Roscuro with his thighs,
then at Percival with his hand, and he begged anxiously, “Please, please,
Percy, Please!”
“Shh,” Percival cooed, stroking his neck again, and Newt gave a shuddering
breath as more tears spilled over. Looking back at Roscuro, he suggested,
"Maybe I should fuck him through you, then."
He hummed, delighting in the way Roscuro's aggressive stance relaxed. “Oh, you
like that idea, don't you?” Percival teased. Roscuro arched over Newt more,
resting his elbows on the desk, far more submissive than he had been before.
Newt, meanwhile, was soothed by the warmth of Roscuro's clothed body, and he
let go of Percival so that he could wrap his arms around Roscuro's shoulders.
Roscuro glanced at Newt when his thin fingers ran through raven hair, and then
he dipped his head to place a soft kiss to the center of his chest, urging a
soft giggle from the man.
Roscuro reached one hand up to wipe away a few tears from Newt's face, and the
redhead sighed pleasantly at his touch. “I swear these are good tears,” He told
the officer in a trembling, wrecked voice, barely paying attention to Percival
as he made his way behind Roscuro, already pouring lubricant into one hand
while he tugged Roscuro's pants lower. The officer set his feet further apart,
ducking his head to place a few more soft kisses on Newt's chest.
When Percival entered him with a finger, Roscuro took a long breath, tucking
his nose against Newt's body. Newt continued to run his fingers through
Roscuro's hair, cooing at him and whispering sweet nothings, coaxing him
through the breach. “Breathe, love. Nice and deep,” Newt guided him, keeping
his touches light, not wanting to overwhelm the man.
A second finger had Roscuro shaking. He bit down on his bottom lip to suppress
the plethora of noises that pulled at his throat. He focused on Newt's hands,
on the heat of his body still wrapped around him, on the way his thighs
stretched not only to accommodate him but Percival as well. He could feel Newt
fluttering around him, trying to distract him, and Roscuro sighed in pleasure.
Percival was working his fingers within Roscuro slowly, taking care to stretch
him, to make sure the lubricant reached as deep inside of him as Percival's
thick fingers could allow. It was that familiar intimacy, that care that made
Roscuro buck, which only made Newt gasp in surprise and Percival chuckle.
“Slowly, slowly,” Percival reminded him, pulling his fingers from his body just
to replace it with the blunt head of his cock.
As he pushed inside, Roscuro rolled his hips forward. Newt moaned softly and
pushed back down, his hands stilling in Roscuro's hair. Percival wrapped a hand
around Roscuro's hip, keeping him steady so that he could slide in. His other
hand trailed up Roscuro's spine, fingers curling around the collar of the vest
for a good grip.
The press of Percival's hips was a relief. Roscuro wouldn't have to suffer
alone much longer, standing still between his lovers. Tucking his cheek against
Newt's chest, listening to his racing heart, Roscuro rolled his hips between
the two men, just testing out the waters. Percival gripped the back of his vest
a touch tighter while Newt's thighs squeezed around him.
“If it's too much, let us know,” Percival then told Roscuro, and the officer
immediately shook his head. “If it gets too much--” Percival tried to comfort
him, but Roscuro kept shaking his head. It would never be too much, not in the
bad way, at least. Roscuro—Credence—was made to be between his lovers like
this. This was where he belonged, where he loved to be. Enveloped in Newt's
warmth, smothered by Percival's body, the gentle touches and soft voices
belying the intimacy underneath the animalistic sounds and movements.
With a smirk, Percival said, “Well then. We'll start slow.” Newt immediately
huffed, however, but he bit back any remarks when Percival began to move,
pulling Roscuro back with him, and then jolted him forward once more, a second
jolt taking Newt off guard from Percival's added weight. Newt quickly scrambled
to hold onto Roscuro, clinging to his shoulders tightly in preparation for what
was to come.
As Percival worked up to a steady rhythm, Roscuro panted and huffed and Newt
whined and whimpered. The faster Percival went, the harder Roscuro thrust into
Newt, and the louder Newt became. The redhead dropped his head back against the
desk with a thunk, gasping out, “I-I'm gunna come first... This isn't fair....”
“Hormones, Newton,” Percival teased with a growl to his words, leaning back a
bit to watch his flesh pull from Roscuro's body, then thrust back home. Newt
groaned mere moments after, feeling it deep inside himself.
“Th-there's no way...” Newt gasped, breathless already, “C-can't come twice...
not in a row.”
“Mmm, that doesn't sound like a 'can-do' attitude,” Percival smirked, grunting
when Newt immediately kicked him with his heel.
“Percival!” The redhead groaned, looking at the man with wide, irate eyes.
Roscuro, meanwhile, was smothering his breathy laughter against Newt's skin,
his shoulders bouncing. Percival clicked his tongue and delivered a rough slap
of his hips, immediately shutting both boys up with a tremor of arousal. Newt
tipped his head back once again, moaning out his name.
“Now I'll make sure you come first,” Percival groused, picking up the speed
much to the delight of both of his boys, “And then I'll fuck Roscuro so hard
he'll come on you.”
Newt whined petulantly, although he couldn't keep up the bratty attitude for
long when he was being fucked so earnestly, his thighs already beginning to
tremble. Roscuro, their poor, silent lover, seemed to be having a hard time
keeping up. He would jolt backward against Percival before springing forward
into Newt, his body confused by the two points of pleasure. Percival found it
entirely too adorable, and figured the only way to solve the issue would be to
fuck them both faster.
Picking up the pace once more, Percival himself couldn't hold back a delectable
groan. Newt whimpered weakly, nails digging into Roscuro's clothes.
“Percy.... Roscuro... Percy....” He chanted, rocking against their thrusts,
then grinding his hips up against the rough material of Roscuro's vest. He
could feel his own pre pooling on his stomach, wetting his already damp skin,
and he knew he really wasn't going to last long. Roscuro clung to him so tight
and Percival fucked them both so good, Newt was struggling to just last a few
seconds longer.
“I-I c-c-can't!” He cried out when it became too much to handle, his entire
body jolting in shock as his orgasm washed over him, pulse after earth-shaking
pulse making him squirm underneath the two men. Roscuro's breath caught
dangerously loudly, his own body shuddering, although he didn't quite hit his
release. Percival gave a low groan, but he didn't even allow Roscuro to help
Newt ride it out. He yanked the officer back to quickly that Newt whined in
disappointment, but he could hardly be angry, especially when he was treated to
the lovely sight of Percival fucking Roscuro with a passion, one arm holding
the man up, his other hand wrapped firmly around Roscuro's wet cock, flying
over it with a vicious speed. Roscuro's mouth hung open in a silent scream,
contorting as the pleasure overwhelmed him, and with a few final jolts of his
body he, too, was coming.
Newt gasped when Roscuro spilled over his body, fat stripes of come splattering
across his bare chest, painting him in a warm, milky white. Percival didn't let
up on his abuse, forcing every last drop from Roscuro until the officer was
tugging at his arm, cringing from the overstimulation.
With him finished, Percival pulled himself out of the officer, then tugged Newt
to the edge of the desk until he was dropping onto his knees. Newt thought at
first that Percival wanted him to blow him, but before he could even open his
mouth, the man was spilling down his face. Newt shouted in surprise, eyes
squeezing shut before something got in them. He couldn't help the full-body
shudder at the sensation of hot spend rolling down his cheeks and lips in thick
globs, and as soon as Percival was done, he dared to flutter his eyes open.
Roscuro was staring at him from where he had collapsed in Newt's chair, mouth
agape. Percival staggered backward a few steps but managed to find his footing
and he gave a relieved sigh. Newt, meanwhile, had come covering his face,
chest, and stomach, and he felt worse for wear.
“I needed that,” Percival declared with a smirk, running a hand through his
sweaty hair, pushing it out of his face.
“I need a shower,” Newt pouted, wiping some of Percival's jizz from his cheek,
then jumping when Roscuro kneeled down beside him and licked his other cheek
clean. Laughing deliriously, Newt said, “Not like that! An actual shower!”
Roscuro all but pouted, and when Newt laughed a second time, Roscuro dove back
in and continued to kiss, lick, and suck Newt clean. Newt giggled all the
while, allowing the officer to push him back onto the floor, stretching him out
so he could get every last inch of him. Newt barely noticed when his mirth
turned into soft moans, or when Roscuro started to actually suck him off. He
only realized that his fingers were curling in his dark hair tightly and his
groin was once again burning with desire.
“Roscuro,” He breathed, rolling his hips up, savoring the warmth of his mouth
while he had it. He came quickly, almost embarrassingly so if he hadn't already
come three times that day. As soon as Roscuro pulled away, licking his lips
almost triumphantly, Percival grinned down at Newt. Immediately, the redhead
panted out, “Not a word.”
“I wouldn't dare,” Percival promised sweetly, looking for all the world like he
had just won the best prize. But alas, their fun had to come to an end
eventually. Percival was going to be the one to break the bad news. “Newton, we
should head home, now.”
Roscuro pouted all over again, but he didn't try to stop them. Newt, however,
looked like he was about to cling to the officer in order to drag him along.
“Roscuro has work to do, doesn't he?” when Roscuro nodded, Percival added, “We
don't want to get him in trouble, Newton. Let him get back to work so that we
can do this again, alright?”
“But Percy,” Newt still complained, even as Roscuro slipped from his arms so he
could get to his feet, fixing up his pants and blatantly ignoring the wet spot
on the front of his vest. “I just want to take him home...”
“I'm sorry, baby,” Percival sighed, giving them both an apologetic look, “We'll
do this again soon, alright? Maybe we can figure something out for winter
break?”
Roscuro's face pinched, and Percival could already tell that any plans they
made would simply be impossible to go through with. Roscuro had his work to do,
and even if he was enjoying his time with the two of them, it was obvious that
his work came first. He was to remain anonymous, after all. It would be hard to
do such a thing if he had a lover hanging off both arms.
“Come on, Newt. Get dressed and give Roscuro a goodbye kiss.” Percival ordered,
and Newt huffed while he pushed himself up to his feet.
“Fine,” He mumbled, tugging on his clothes stubbornly. He only relaxed when he
approached Roscuro for his kiss, and he absolutely melted against the officer's
chest. In a soft, sweet voice, Newt whispered, “Come back soon, please?”
Percival smiled a little, then reminded his little lover, “Don't you have
something to give the man, Newt?”
“Do I?” Newt hummed, looking back at Percival for a moment before his eyes went
wide with recollection, “I do!” He scrambled for his tablet—knocked to the
corner of his desk in their frenzy—checked that the file had transferred
safely, then pulled the USB from the port and handed it to Roscuro. Blushing
bright red, Newt requested nervously, “J-Just... watch it when you're alone,
okay? Don't let it get into anyone else's hands.”
Roscuro took the USB, his mouth opened in a surprised 'o', and he peered up
once more at Newt before giving him a firm nod. Tucking the USB into his vest,
Roscuro pulled the redhead in for one last kiss, then did the same for
Percival, where he lingered just a moment longer.
“We'll see you tomorrow,” Percival smiled, watching Roscuro walk towards the
door to the classroom, his legs still a little shaky. Newt sighed wistfully,
frowning as Roscuro left the room. Shortly after, he was turning his attention
to Percival, and Percival merely shrugged his shoulders.
“We should head home, too. We both need a shower.” He suggested, and Newt's
forlorn stare turned into an indignant one.
“You're not the one who got covered twicewith come.” Newt pointed out, and
Percival could do nothing but laugh.
The next morning, Percival and Newt arrived at school and witnessed an
interesting scene. Crowded just between the gate to the school campus and the
main building was a crowd of at least twenty students, standing arm-in-arm in a
tight circle, rhythmically chanting “Educational discrimination is not grounds
for termination!” Already, this little protest was gathering a few interested
students, some of them content to just stand back and watch, while a few others
were taking out their phones and tablets to record the spectacle.
Percival grimaced at the sight, and with a hand on Newt's arm, he tried to
guide the redhead away. “Come on, let's get to class before this gets ugly.”
“Ugly? They're just protesting,” Newt said, eyes still drawn to the students
chanting, “That's what you Americans are all about, isn't it?”
“They're children. It'll break out into a riot soon enough,” Percival scoffed,
still trying to drag Newt away, but all of a sudden the young man was planting
his feet in the ground. Exasperated, Percival looked at Newt and said tiredly,
“Newton, come on. Class is going to start.”
Putting on a brave face, Newt unexpectedly said, “I think we should join them.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think we should go and join them! They don't have any faculty with them.
It'd be a good idea to supervise if you really think they'll turn violent. If
an authority figure is there, we won't have to worry about a fight breaking
out.” Newt claimed, gesturing towards the protest, and Percival struggled to
find an excuse. Luckily for him, it came in the form of five campus officers
approaching the crowd, Roscuro leading them.
Gesturing to the officers, Percival said, “There, see? It's being handled.
Let's go.”
“Percival,” Newt huffed, tugging his arm away from the man. He didn't say
another word, however, he merely shook his head at his partner, then turned and
jogged towards the protest, skirting around the marching officers and standing
between them and the students. A few of the students looked at Newt warily, but
when he didn't try to actively stop them, they instead focused their sights on
the officers drawing too close for comfort.
Percival rolled his eyes at the sight, far too old for a young and radical
lover, but he, too, wandered over to the protest when he realized Newt really
wasn't going to back down. He stayed on the sidelines, hands in his pockets and
a frown on his face. More officers were beginning to make their way over, drawn
in by the ruckus and the crowd gathering. This time, Grindelwald led the pack.
“What is going on out here?” Grindelwald questioned in a booming voice. Roscuro
and his five officers turned to face their boss, but none of them said a word.
Grindelwald looked over the students, who refused to stop chanting, and
sneered. “That's enough! Disband and get to class!”
A few of the students watching faltered and wandered away. Slowly, the crowd
weaned out, but the protesting group remained locked in arms, Newt standing in
front of them with his own arms crossed. He wasn't chanting, thank God Percival
thought, but it didn't look like he was going to let things be. Grindelwald
didn't seem to like that at all.
“Disband immediately or we will be forced to escort you to the Principle's
office” Grindelwald threatened. This time, a few of the chanting voices petered
off. Newt clenched his jaw and took a few steps back, putting himself in line
with the students, even going so far as to link arms with them. Percival
groaned and dropped his head into his hands, embarrassed.
When the protesters still didn't budge, Grindelwald snapped his fingers and
ordered his officers, “Take them in.”
Percival's head snapped up the moment he heard the familiar crack of steel
scraping on steel. His heart leaped to his throat when he saw ten officers
begin to surround the protesters, nightsticks in hand, looking ready to
throttle the students. They and Newt held onto one another tightly, Newt
beginning to tremble although he remained stubbornly standing.
“Are you insane? Those are children!” Percival shouted, gesturing to the group.
“They need to learn their lesson if they plan to protest their government.”
Grindelwald sneered. Roscuro and his five officers watched carefully, and when
Roscuro gave a signal with his hand, he and his team armed themselves with
nightsticks, flicking them open with a sickening crack. Percival felt his
stomach drop and his face flush white. Newt even looked shocked, though he
still, still didn't budge. He stared at Roscuro, however, wide-eyed and angry,
just daring the man to try anything.
“Detain them by any means necessary!” Grindelwald ordered, and that put the
officers—and Roscuro—into action.
The ten guards Grindelwald arrived with took only a handful of steps towards
the protesters, the students' chant faltering in preparation for the abuse.
Even Newt cringed and squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the blows
coming. Percival clenched his jaw tight, wanting to run in there and just yank
Newt away, make sure at least he didn't get hurt, but who was he, a thirty-
five-year-old man, against fifteen officers?
Roscuro and his five surrounded the crowd faster than Grindelwald's team did,
Roscuro standing face-to-face with Newt, nightstick still in hand. The students
quivered, some of them already beginning to cry, but Roscuro didn't raise his
weapon. None of them did, in fact. Percival and Grindelwald watched in equal
parts astonishment and fear as Roscuro turned his back on Newt, on the
protesters, and held out his arms and the nightstick in a show of protection.
And it wasn't just him. His five officers immediately followed suit, using
themselves as shields for the students—forNewt—looking ready to fend anyone off
that might wish harm on them.
“What are you doing?” Grindelwald spat, approaching his second-in-arms at a
lightning speed, shoving the man with both hands and nearly bowling him over,
but Newt managed to grab the officer just in time, keeping him upright. When
the students noticed that they weren't being attacked, that they were instead
being protected, their chants resumed with a tentative uncertainty, although it
picked up confidence the longer the officers stayed.
“Detain them! You stupid boy, detain them!” Grindelwald shouted at Roscuro,
shoving him again, even smacking him across the mask, but Roscuro didn't budge.
He kept his arms splayed, kept his nightstick open and in his hand. Slowly, an
audience began to grow once more. More and more students were taking out their
cameras, filming the spectacle that was Grindelwald, the man in charge of
officers not only in Ilvermorny, but the officers in their entire school
district, physically battered one of his own men while he shouted at him to
comply. Roscuro's five officers didn't try to help him, and Grindelwald's ten
didn't step in either. They were at a standstill, watching Grindelwald fall
into a deranged rage while Roscuro took the beating.
It all came to a head when, in Grindelwald's blind anger, he snatched a taser
from a nearby officer and slammed the business end of it against Roscuro's arm,
wracking his body with fifty-thousand volts. The officer shouted in pain, his
entire body going tense, twitching as the electricity worked its way through
his limbs. The students he was protecting shouted in horror, Newt yelling out
Roscuro's name, and finally they broke apart. A few of them ran for the
building, slipping by the officers who seemed fixated on the violence towards
one of their own. As soon as the taser was yanked away, Roscuro dropped to his
knees, his nightstick skittering out of his hand and across the ground. Newt
dropped down right beside him, pulling the limp Roscuro into his lap, and he
shouted at Grindelwald, “You bloody maniac! You'd do this to your own men?!”
But Grindelwald ignored Newt in order to tell his officers, “Detain the rest of
them! Throw them in the security office for questioning!”
A few more students made a run for it, but only a handful more managed to slip
away. Officers caught and grabbed the rest of the runaways, and even Roscuro's
five couldn't do anything more to try and keep the situation from escalating.
Newt clung tighter to Roscuro, tears burning his eyes, and he shouted at
Grindelwald a bit incoherently, “You told us Roscuro was here to keep you in
check! To stop any questionable actions taken by you and your men! You can't
tase your safeguard!”
“Detain Scamander as well! Throw him in my office!” Grindelwald ordered, and
one of Roscuro's five immediately acted, grabbing Newt by the arms and yanking
him to his feet despite his attempts to struggle.
“Let him go! He didn't do anything!” Percival tried to intervene, but the
officers were already urging Percival to step back, to move along and not cause
any trouble. Roscuro remained dazed on the ground as Newt and Percival were
forced apart, Percival shouting for Newt's release and Newt demanding justice
for Roscuro.
Facing the crowd of students and faculty alike, Grindelwald shouted, “Take this
as an example and a warning! You dare cross me and my men, and you will pay the
price!”
 
Chapter End Notes
     From this point on, things are going to be a lot less exciting as we
     wind this fic down. Phew!
***** Cognitive Dissonance *****
Chapter Summary
     Winding down now..... ahhhhh yes..... nice and calm from here on
     out....
     also, hello again!
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Kicking and screaming, Newt was dragged away from the students. Instead of
being led into the security offices, he was yanked down an isolated hallway,
held by the arms by the two guards who grabbed him.
“Where are you taking me?” Newt huffed, trying to tug his way free from their
grip, but their hands only tightened around him, digging into skin and muscle,
sure to leave a bruise. When squirming didn't help any longer, Newt tried to
dig his heels into the ground, but the soldiers were far stronger than he was,
especially paired up. Reluctantly, Newt had to allow himself to be forced
along, his stomach twisting when they neared the Execution Hall.
He nearly started fighting all over again as soon as they entered it.
“What are you doing?” He blurted, heart pounding, “Why—Why are we here? Let me
go!”
They carried him past the cold metal showers and through a dark concrete room
fitted only with chairs bearing leather straps to restrain their occupants.
Newt trembled as he saw the plastic seats and the restraints. He could have
been there last year. He could have been there, could have been killed, but
Credence had gone instead. Credence had been here in his place.
His panic left him in tears, although he stubbornly refused to sob or wail,
even when the officers marched him through a reinforced metal door, past a
rickety, dangerous-looking industrial lift, and into a small, dusty office. He
was then thrown unceremoniously into the wooden seat there, and while one
officer turned and left the room, the other stood in the doorway and pointed at
Newt firmly, ordering him in a dark voice, “Stay.”
“I-I'm not a dog!” Newt bit back despite knowing he wasn't at all intimidating,
what with the tears he could feel rolling down his cheeks and the way he rubbed
his sore arms. He trembled in his seat, wondering just what Grindelwald was
going to do to him. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long for the man of the
hour to show, tugging along a woozy-looking Roscuro by the strap of his vest.
Seeing his partner made Newt relax only the slightest bit, but he had to keep
his mouth shut, had to refrain from gasping in relief or asking Roscuro if he
was okay. The less Grindelwald knew about their relationship, the better.
With the officer still guarding the door, Grindelwald shoved Roscuro into the
chair behind the desk, then turned his rage on Newt. He didn't even allow the
redhead to get a word out before he was hissing like a snake, “You damned boy!
Always sticking your nose into things you don't belong in! Always trying to
take what isn't yours to have! Why couldn't you have transferred in and failed
like you were supposed to?!”
“Wh-What?” Newt blurted, but Grindelwald wasn't about to listen to him anytime
soon.
“And now you're throwing yourself in the spotlight and messing everything up
again! If it wasn't for Credence, I would have shot you in your fucking skull
already!”
Behind him, Roscuro gurgled weakly. Grindelwald reared back for a moment,
running hands stiffly through his hair, trying to keep himself together when he
was so obviously falling apart in rage. His breath came raggedly, sucked in
between clenched teeth and exhaled in great gusts from his nose. He paced the
small room, three steps left, three steps right, three steps left, then he
stopped and faced Newt again.
“Now here you are,” Grindelwald rumbled deep in his chest, pale eyes wide and
vicious, “Here you are, finally in my clutches, where no one can save you. Not
Credence, not Percival, not even your damned brother Theseus.” Approaching Newt
with a stiff gait, Grindelwald grabbed the chair he sat on by the edge of it,
clutching the wood so tightly it groaned under his grip. Newt jolted between
his arms, staring numbly at the center of Grindelwald's chest, unable to even
breathe lest he set this lunatic off again.
“I could kill you here and no one would be the wiser.” Grindelwald mused, lips
curling into what could only be described as a sneer, “Throw you down into the
pit with the rest of the goddamned pigs and watch you fester away.” And then,
cryptically, Grindelwald asked, “Do you believe in Hell, Scamander?”
When Newt didn't respond, Grindelwald leaned ever closer and whispered in a
voice so low he could feel it reverberating in his bones, “It exists. Just
under our feet, it exists, and it teems with the swine and refuse we've killed
over the years, tortured into submission. They have been raped and beaten and
abused by my own little devils, and you will bear their fate and break just
like they have. That's all your kind is good for.”
“My kind?” Newt questioned, voice trembling, but Grindelwald only scoffed at
him and pushed away, jerking Newt's chair backward in his haste.
“I should have never let you slip away from my grasp,” Grindelwald huffed,
pacing thoughtlessly towards Roscuro, ignoring the way his head lulled as he
struggled to keep it upright. Grindelwald stood by his chair and settled a hand
heavily on Roscuro's shoulder, tilting the man dangerously to the side. “Should
have finished the Thinning when I had the chance... I was prideful, but I will
not be any longer.”
Turning to face Newt again, Grindelwald said in a cold voice, “I know what you
have done with him. He cornered you in the bathroom and ravished you.”
Squeezing Roscuro's shoulder, he continued, “Even when he is mine, he is still
crawling right back to you, isn't he?”
Newt couldn't fathom what Grindelwald meant, but he shook his head anyway,
hoping that refusing it enough would make Grindelwald believe it. Roscuro still
sat there in a daze, unable to hear their words, and almost desperately Newt
claimed, “Th-this is just a misunderstanding. He and I—We n-never--”
But he was cut short when Grindelwald yelled at the top of his lungs, “Don't
you lie to me!” He stepped away from Roscuro and took the place in front of
Newt in three long strides. Newt clung to the edge of his seat, leaning back as
far as the wooden backing would let him, head turned away and eyes staring wide
at Grindelwald's shoulder, bearing his throat like Grindelwald was some beast.
“You are an ungrateful immigrant menace, bent on dismantling the American
government and tainting those you touch! Look at me!” Grindelwald bellowed,
snatching Newt by the jaw so suddenly that his head whipped forward. Newt
sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes locked with Grindelwald's, his pupils
mere pinpricks in mismatched hues. Grindelwald held his head so tightly Newt's
jaw was forced open a fraction, his muscles stinging in pain.
“You will learn to respect those in charge or you will learn to fear them!”
Grindelwald roared, making Newt's ears ring and his heart freeze in his chest.
Shoving Newt off of the chair with a rough hand, Grindelwald barked, “Now go!
Get out of my sight!” He scrambled to his feet and ran for the door, the
officer guarding it stepping aside just in time to avoid the terrified man from
crashing into him. As he ran down the concrete hall, Grindelwald's voice
followed close behind him with a warning.
“Lay a hand on my things again and I will make sure he will be the last one you
touch!”
Scrambling away from the execution hall, Newt barreled past students and staff,
face a mess and mind scattered. He didn't stop running until he got to
Percival's classroom, and even then he burst through the doors much to the
surprise of Percival himself and the few students that had gathered in their
seats early.
“Newton!” Percival gasped, not needing to take more than a handful of steps
before Newt was collapsing against him, arms circled tight around Percival's
neck. Despite the quiet whispers of the class and the rumors sure to fly by the
end of the day, Percival held Newt tightly around the waist with one arm and
held Newt's head to his shoulder with his hand. He tucked his nose against
Newt's neck, breathing him in, feeling beyond relieved at having his little
lover back. Exhaling all of the anxiety and fear, Percival didn't let Newt go
until the redhead was pulling away, and even then he fought to hold on to him
for just a few seconds longer. When they were at arm's length, Newt blinked his
wet green eyes up at Percival, bottom lip trembling, and Percival felt his
heartbreak.
“God, what did they do to you?” Percival whispered, cradling Newt gently by the
jaw and turning his head this way and that, examining the red marks on his face
left by Grindelwald's fingers. “Newton...” Percival tutted, wiping away the
tears that were beginning to fall from his lashes.
Hating how unhappy Newt looked, Percival declared with a finality, “We're going
home.”
But Newt immediately shook his head, his brows drawing together in a frown
despite the tears still leaking from him. “I don't need to go home,” He told
Percival, voice quivering wetly.
“Newt, you're crying,” Percival pointed out, but Newt still refused.
“I was just scared,” Newt decided, stepping away from Percival's grip and
wiping his own tears, “Percival, someone has to stop that madman! He just
threatened to kill me!”
The students whispered to one another again, their presence suddenly becoming
prominent in Percival's mind. With a worried glance their way, Percival
approached Newt and said in a low voice, “Newton, maybe we should talk about
this another time.”
But Newt jerked away from him once more, eyes wide and frown set, and he
declared without a care for who heard him, “No! This isn't something that can
wait, Percival! He threatened to kill me! Is this not surprising to you?”
Gritting his teeth, Percival tried again to calm his partner, “There are
children present, Newt.”
“Oh! Children!” Newt scoffed, “Let's have them run around with a murderous
madman on the loose, then! Much safer than discussing it!”
“Newt,” Percival sighed, but the redhead was on a roll now.
“It doesn't matter that he just violently broke up a peaceful protest! It
doesn't matter that he threatened me or the students! What matters is that we
don't scare anybody by talking about it!”
Irritated at being ignored, Percival snapped, “Well what did you expect when
you stood there in the middle of the courtyard?! You made yourself a target and
antagonized them, antagonized Grindelwald until he had no choice but to do what
he did!”
“Percival!” Newt huffed, shocked at his words.
“Oh, don't 'Percival' me! Your damned ambitious rioting is going to get someone
killed and you know it!”
Not even the students sitting in the classroom with them dared to utter a word.
The silence in the room was so heavy it made Newt tremble and crushed
Percival's heart. The longer it lasted, the quicker Percival's resolve fell
apart, until soon his shoulders were slumping and realization was crossing his
face.
“Newt,” He whispered, but Newt ducked his head and crossed his arms, sinking
back into the year-old shell Percival and Credence had worked him out of.
Percival could almost see it curling around him, locking off the most intimate,
vulnerable parts of himself.
When Percival reached out to him, Newt side-stepped him do expertly they didn't
even brush shoulders when he walked away, heading straight for his desk and
taking his seat. He kept his head down and his arms crossed, looking for all
the world as if it were his first day in an American school again. Percival
felt regret pool in his chest, but he had already made things worse. He didn't
dare open his mouth lest he say something even more irreparable.
The bell rang a moment later and the rest of Percival's students flooded in.
With the growing audience, Percival became nervous and held his tongue tightly.
He didn't want to create a scene. Neither did Newt, it seemed because he said
nothing on the matter as well.
The second bell rang and Percival began his lecture.
By the time school was over and Newt and Percival were just returning home,
Newt found the marks on his face had indeed turned to bruises. He stood in the
entry hallway, staring at himself in the mirror, and gently prodded the
darkened splotches across his jaw and cheek, only to immediately wince in pain.
He paid Percival no mind, even though the man looked properly shamed from
Newt's day-long silent treatment. He barely even reacted when Percival
approached him from behind and whispered a quiet, “I'm sorry.”
Newt clenched his jaw shut, not daring to utter a word. He averted his gaze
from Percival's reflection, covering the more heavily injured side of his face
with his hand and turning his head away. Percival didn't let him slip away,
though. He trapped Newt there in front of the mirror by placing his hands on
his hips and holding him still. He ducked his head to try and meet Newt's eyes,
but the man had too much experience avoiding such things. “Talk to me. Please.”
Percival bid, and Newt felt his eyebrow quirk.
The words burst from him as if he could no longer hold back. “Now you want to
talk—when there is no one around to hear it?” Percival cringed at the backlash,
but his embarrassment was not enough of an apology, “You didn't believe what I
told you earlier. Why should it be any different now?”
“I do believe you,” Percival tried to say, but Newt immediately questioned him
with a sharp, “Then why did you refuse to hear me out? You blamed me for
getting hurt! You... you embarrassed me in front of your students!”
With a heavy sigh, Percival said, “It was a conversation we should have had in
private.”
“It's a 'conversation' that the school districts need to have publiclynow.
Their students are at stake!” Newt argued, turning away from the mirror so he
could look at Percival directly, “I don't understand you, Percival. How can you
just sit here and let this happen around you?”
“The same way you lived in England and didn't do a thing to help the
handicapped from being unnecessarily culled.” Percival stated bluntly, brows
furrowed, “It's what the American government has decided on, Newton. We can't
change that.”
“It's not the same.” Newt claimed, irritated, “The Plague Doctors had to have
records to back up their claims. They needed to prove that the person was ill
beyond reasonable doubt in order to arrange for their death. Here, it all falls
under one test. And even so, those who 'fail' can be picked and rearranged like
little chess pieces. The politician's son can slip by nearly his entire high
school education just because he knows the right man. The immigrant student can
be singled out by the system because he is unnecessary baggage.”
Percival pondered Newt's words, his eyes thoughtful, and Newt thought for a
long moment that maybe Percival finally understood. When he opened his mouth,
however, the only question that came from him was, “If the Plague Doctors
needed proof, why was Theseus so keen on getting you out of Britain? It's
obvious you're not handicapped.”
Newt remained silent for so long that Percival hesitantly asked, “You... aren't
handicapped, are you?”
Lifting his eyes to look at Percival, Newt asked, “Would it matter if I were?
Would you love me any less?”
To which Percival replied with a calm, “I wouldn't love you differently and you
know it, but it does matter. If there is something I should be doing to help
you or something that hinders you, I should know about it so that I can take
care of you.” Newt looked down again, so Percival mentioned, “I love you for
you, Newt. Nothing's going to scare me away now.”
With a long, shuddering sigh, Newt crossed his arms and turned away from
Percival, not entirely turning his back on him, but no longer facing him head-
on. In a quiet tone, Newt explained, “When I was very young, I was tested for
autism. They believed I was displaying symptoms and at least had Asperger's,
but they eventually diagnosed me as autistic. My parents thought I was just
atypical, not autistic. They said I wasn't talking because I didn't have much
to say, not because I was disabled. I was shy, not isolated, not avoiding eye
contact.”
Peering at Percival from the corner of his eye, Newt mumbled, “My parents
fought to get the diagnosis expunged from my records. They provided proof
somehow that I wasn't autistic or that I had Asperger's. When the Plague
Doctors didn't take me that year, they thought it had all been settled...
“They died a couple of years before Theseus and I came here. A year after that,
Britain didn't meet it's five percent. We got a letter soon after explaining
that old records would be reopened and that anyone who had shown signs,
expunged or not, may be taken. Whatever proof my parents had that I wasn't
autistic was gone with them. When Theseus couldn't provide evidence that I was
not handicapped, he panicked and brought me here.”
Then, looking back at Percival, Newt declared, “Their system works, even if
it's a little faulty. At least there is a lower chance for mistakes to happen.
Plague Doctors need proof. Your schools rely on one measly test.”
Sighing himself, Percival asked Newt, “And what do you expect to do, huh? You
can't change how the American system works, Newt.”
“I can try.” Newt said stiffly, sticking his nose in the air, “And you can try
being a little supportive.”
“Newt...” Percival huffed, ducking his head for a moment, but when the redhead
didn't flounder, he decided to be honest with his lover. Looking at him, at his
fiery expression and stiff upper lip, Percival brushed a hand down Newt's arm
and admitted, “You know I can't, Newt... I.... I don't even want you to do
this. I don't want them to take you, too.”
The words touched Newt, even if just slightly. With a touch more compassion,
Newt relaxed and replied, “I don't expect you to stand beside me, but at least
have my back.” Unravelling his arms from his crossed stance, Newt took
Percival's hands in his own and squeezed, “Make sure they can't take me.
Protect me from the sidelines.” Then, with a wry smile and a nervous stutter,
Newt said, “You're a b-bit too old to be pr-protesting.”
Brows lifting, Percival felt a smile pull at his lips and he asked, “Old, eh?”
When Newt laughed, Percival pulled the redhead closer and growled, “I'll show
you 'old.'”
“For protesting!” Newt said again, then yelped when Percival hoisted him up by
the thighs, carrying Newt further into the house.
As they lay in bed later on that night, Newt unwinding with a book and Percival
watching a video on his IGlass with his glasses balanced on his nose, Percival
told his young lover, “Do you really want to do this, then?”
“Hm?” Newt hummed, finishing up his last sentence before he looked up at
Percival, “What? Protest?” When Percival nodded, Newt huffed through his nose
and said, “Positive.”
Looking uncomfortable, Percival asked, “You're not worried about Grindelwald?
About... About Roscuro?”
“Of course I'm worried, Percival,” Newt said with a frown, setting his book
down on his lap, “But I can't just sit by and do nothing.” Glancing away for a
moment, Newt then said, “I don't believe for a second that Credence deserved to
die because of the Thinning. He was smart, you know. Quiet and a little self-
conscious, but he was smart. I just... I just don't think the Thinning is a
good way of scoring intelligence.”
Percival looked at Newt, and Newt held his gaze steadily, just daring the man
to argue with him. Waiting for him to plead with Newt to change his mind and to
put Credence and the protest behind him. He set his jaw and waited for
Percival's disapproval, but what he got instead was a quiet, if not reluctant,
“Alright. Then we'll have to start getting to school earlier if you're going to
do your thing.”
Blinking at Percival in surprise, Newt asked, “You're going to help me?” which
garnered a brief chuckle from the man.
“You just lectured me on supporting you from the sidelines and now you're
acting shocked that I will? Can you make up your mind?” He teased, and Newt
felt his face bloom in embarrassment.
“I-I just thought...” Newt began to explain himself, but promptly fell quiet
when Percival leaned in for a soft kiss.
“I know.” He whispered, looking into Newt's eyes. Then, with a sad look, he
said, “I couldn't imagine Credence would want to have gone without a fight.”
Biting his bottom lip to fight back the tears, Newt pulled Percival into one
more deep kiss, trying to show how thankful he was that Percival was going to
help him.
“You won't have to stand outside with me,” Newt told him, smiling all the
while, “You can sit in your class and do all the work you need to if you'd
like. I promise I'll come in before the second bell rings.”
Humming, Percival said teasingly, “Don't make empty promises to me, young man.
If you're late even once, no more extra-curricular protesting!”
Pouting playfully, Newt whined out, “But Mr. Graves!”
“Don't 'Mr. Graves' me, Newton. These are my rules.” He tutted, wagging a
finger in the redhead's direction, earning a series of light giggles.
True to his word, the very next morning Percival woke Newton up a whole hour
earlier, getting them ready for the day and brewing them both coffee. As soon
as they hit the campus, Percival went to his classroom while Newt stood
outside, frowning at the passing campus officers who glanced his way. He
thought after yesterday's display-turned-hectic, the students would be too
nervous to join him at first, but as they began to trickle in, Newt found more
and more of them standing at his side, effectively creating a line in front of
the main entrance, arms intertwined and equally determined looks on their
faces. A few officers stopped to stare at them, crossing their arms or shaking
their heads. They didn't try to break up their line, however. It didn't seem
like they were going to do anything at all, in fact, not without a direct
order.
And then Roscuro came around and saw them. Newt felt his heart pick up speed, a
mix of nerves and relief pounding inside of him. He was glad the officer seemed
fine after yesterday, but he was afraid that Grindelwald's actions may have
turned the man against him.
Luckily, whatever might have gone through Roscuro's mind upon seeing Newt and
the student protesters standing there yet again held no ill will, and with a
commanding gesture, Roscuro urged the loitering guards away and back to their
posts. Just as he himself was beginning to leave, Roscuro glanced back at Newt
and offered him a simple nod. Newt had to fight back a smile. He had both
lovers' approval now, and that only made him feel more confident in what he had
decided to do.
When Grindelwald walked by, Newt and the students held each other more firmly,
preparing for the worst. Grindelwald indeed stopped and sneered at them, but he
only approached Newt, saying in a dark voice, “Keep this up and you'll regret
it.”
Setting his jaw, Newt replied firmly, “I won't drop this. Even if I'm the only
one standing here, I won't let this go.”
The way Grindelwald ground his teeth together only belied his anger that he
tried to keep hidden under a calm visage. Taking a few deep breaths through his
nose, Grindelwald then replied, “Then you will incur the wrath of my
government.”
Very, very briefly, Newt wanted to tell Grindelwald to bring it on. However,
with the last of his restraint, Newt instead offered a very brief, “I will face
the consequences.”
Grindelwald narrowed his eyes. He obviously didn't hear the response he wanted,
but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Without another word, Grindelwald
stalked away from the protesters, shoulders stiff and feet stomping. Newt gave
a shuddering breath, heart racing like a horse and feeling as if he had just
won a dangerous battle. This wasn't the end of it, he knew. There were going to
be many more confrontations to come. But at least Newt knew he wasn't alone.
Every day since then, Newt and the students stood outside of the main entrance,
arm-in-arm in protest against the 10-241. Some days they remained silent. Other
days they chanted together the same phrase, over and over. 'Educational
discrimination is not grounds for termination!” Newt thought he had never
spoken so loudly in his life. Percival teased him, saying that he was saying
the phrase so often he murmured it in his sleep. Newt even made it a point to
go to the campus at least every other day over the winter break to protest. He
stood in front of the closed gate by himself for the first three days. He
thought he would be alone for the whole two weeks, but Percival ended up coming
through for Newt. Without telling Newt first, Percival sent out a mere email to
his students. He didn't demand they come or offer anything in return. In fact,
all he told them was that Newt was still protesting on his break, and if anyone
was willing to join, these were the hours Newt would be present.
By the fourth day, Newt stood in front of the school with fifteen other
students. Some of them even came with signs. They were made of cardboard and
were falling apart by the end of the day, but it made more people stop at the
side of the road.
By the start of the second week, Newt stood with thirty other students,
chanting all day until their voices were hoarse and their feet were sore. By
the middle of the week, they had attracted the media's attention. At night,
Newt and Percival watched the news, Newt nursing a steaming hot mug of tea and
Percival massaging his feet and calves. As soon as the news implied that
Grindelwald was going to be making an appearance, Newt and Percival looked at
one another hesitantly.
“We don't have to go tomorrow,” Percival told Newt, but the damned boy was far
too stubborn to let one man scare him away.
“Of course we do, especially if Grindelwald is going to be there,” Newt told
him in a rough whisper, brows furrowed, “I can't let him think that he can
scare us.”
Looking reluctant, Percival ground his thumb against the ball of Newt's foot,
then grumbled, “Alright. I'll prepare bail.”
Newt gave Percival a flat look, and when Percival grimaced back at him, Newt
said plainly, “I'm not going to get arrested.”
“I'd be relieved if you only got arrested.” Percival said meekly, “If
Grindelwald is going to be there, so will all his officers. And if his officers
are going to be there.... Well, you saw what happened the first day you
protested. He's going to do whatever he can to get a rise out of you and the
others. If even one of you throws the first punch, Grindelwald and his officers
can claim self-defense and do whatever he'd like.”
“If Grindelwald is going to be there, so is Roscuro,” Newt pointed out, “He'll
keep us safe.”
Taking a deep sigh, Percival murmured, “You can't rely on one man for long.”
“I'm not relying on one man,” Newt said with a small grin, bringing his tea up
to his lip before murmuring, “I'm relying on two.”
Huffing and rolling his eyes, Percival said, “That's hardly any better.”
“Untrue. It's twice as good.” Newt teased, looking pleased with himself, and
Percival got back at him by pinching the bottom of his foot, making Newt yelp
and jolt in his grip.
“Just promise me that if all hell breaks loose tomorrow, you'll at least try to
get away.” Percival begged, frowning at Newt, “I don't mean this cruelly, but
you're too thin for a fist-fight.”
Laughing happily, Newt said, “I'll try. Promise.”
And try he did, if by 'try' he meant 'take on the brunt of the hell that did,
in fact, break loose so that the majority of his students could get away.'
Although, much to Percival's relief, getting arrested was the only thing he
actually had to worry about, and after settling the bail and filling out some
minor paperwork, Percival and Newt made it home at three in the morning, both
of them dead tired and Newt sporting a handful more bruises than before.
Newt flopped into bed and Percival took up the empty space beside him, working
Newt out of his dirt-encrusted and blood-stained clothes. When he was laying
there in his boxers, Percival grabbed a few heated towelettes and wrapped them
around the worst bruises before he started on cleaning up the scrapes Newt got
when he was thrown face-first into the ground so he could get cuffed. As he
worked on Newt's chin, the redhead began to doze off, head tilting tiredly and
eyelids looking heavier with every passing second.
“Go to sleep,” Percival said quietly, and Newt gave a soft, half-conscious
grunt. As soon as his eyes shut and his breathing evened out, Percival mumbled,
“I love you.”
Even in his half-sleep, Newt offered a small smile. Percival smiled back even
though Newt didn't see it.
And then, the very next day, Newt was in front of the gate once again, cheek
swollen and jaw scraped red. While Grindelwald didn't make another appearance,
there were a lot more officers than before, but also a lot more students taking
Newt's side. They ranked nearly fifty now, all standing side-by-side, arm-in-
arm, with Newt right in the front, proudly displaying the pain he had endured
the day before.
They thought it had all come to a head the day Grindelwald showed. Nothing else
happened for the remainder of the break. When school started back up, it all
felt a little anti-climactic, Newt standing with his students in protest
without a single disapproving word from Grindelwald or his officers. Even when
they chanted passionately and drew attention, not one officer stopped in front
of them.
“I think we're getting somewhere,” Newt told Percival in between classes,
sitting at his desk with his chin resting on his hand, “More students are
standing with us and after all that attention from the media, more people are
talking about it online.”
“That's good,” Percival smiled, grading a few papers while they spoke and
waited for the next class to fill up, “Besides, I don't think you're going to
stop until you get your way.”
Laughing pleasantly, Newt said, “Well, you're right about that.”
After finishing one student's work, Percival leaned back in his seat and gave
Newt his full attention, “Maybe we should celebrate.”
“Oh yeah?” Newt hummed, “You can buy me lunch.”
“I always buy lunch.” Percival pointed out, despite Newt's grin.
“Yeah, but I always get lunch. My feet hurt, Percival. Can't you spoil me this
once?”
Giving a playfully exhausted sigh, Percival huffed out, “I suppose, but only
this one time.”
“I knew you loved me.” Newt laughed, already looking forward to relaxing while
Percival got them lunch for once.
Following his word, Percival left Newt in the classroom to get their lunch. He
walked down the hall with a smile on his face and his hands in his coat pocket,
facing the hectic mess hall in order to get himself and Newt some mediocre
grub, as well as a small dessert just for Newt as a simple treat. He wanted to
make sure Newt knew how proud he was of him, and even though a mere chocolate
chip cookie didn't seem like much, Percival hoped Newt would like it anyways.
Just when the money was exchanging hands, the explosion happened. At first,
Percival didn't know what happened. The whole room fell silent as the floor
rattled and the boom echoed in the halls. Percival thought at first it was an
earthquake, but when the sirens erupted soon after, Percival felt his blood
pump. They had been drilled for this, but Percival never thought this was going
to happen.
It was like a lock-down and an earthquake drill mixed together, the alarm
rising in pitch in repetitive intervals. Dropping the lunch he had just
purchased, Percival and a handful of other present administrators and officers
began herding the children out of their seats in the cafeteria and getting them
outside. First thing's first, they needed them out of the building.
The second explosion happened much closer, rattling the walls of the very
building they were in, the noise so loud Percival felt his ears ring. It was
this explosion that the students seemed to realize exactly what was happening.
“Don't panic! Walk to the doors in an orderly fashion! Don't shove each other!”
Percival shouted over the screaming teenagers, hearing the other faculty
members shouting similar things. When the officers saw the faculty were
handling the students, they took off deeper into the building, planning on
getting out any stragglers left behind.
With the cafeteria emptied, Percival stood with the students far from the main
building, watching with wide eyes as a blaze took over more and more of the
campus. He watched more students pour out from the doors, some officers
stumbling out with injured students in their arms or over their shoulders.
“Newt,” Percival whispered under his breath, heart pounding, “Come on, come
on....”
“Roscuro!” He heard from a distance, and his attention was stolen by
Grindelwald as he searched his men, grabbing them by the shoulders and checking
their masks, looking frenzied if anything, “Damnit boy—Roscuro! Roscuro!”
By chance, their eyes met, and at that moment, Grindelwald saw red.
“You!” He shouted, stomping his way over to Percival before he grabbed him by
the front of his coat, “This is all your TA's fault! If that filthy alien slut
just kept his mouth shut--!”
“Get your hands off of me!” Percival growled, trying to shove Grindelwald off
of him, but the man had a tight grip and a ferocious snarl on his face.
“If a thing happened to my Roscuro--” Grindelwald began to threaten, only to
cut himself short when a figured dropped to their hands and knees beside them.
With hardly a breath, Grindelwald shoved Percival away and shouted, “Roscuro!”
Dropping down beside the panting and heaving officer, Grindelwald pulled him
closer and checked him over as best as he could without removing his mask. As
soon as he saw he was fine, Grindelwald became irritated all over again and
yelled, “You idiot boy! What the hell took you so long?!”
Looking over the crowd and not seeing hide nor hair of Newton, Percival cut in
by blurting, “Newt hasn't made it out...”
Roscuro lifted his head immediately, looking at Percival silently. Grindelwald
looked up as well, annoyed. “Then he's dead,” Grindelwald said spitefully, only
turning back to Roscuro when the officer grabbed Grindelwald by the front of
his vest. Scowling at Roscuro, Grindelwald said angrily, “No. Absolutely not.,
You are not going in there.”
“You can't leave him in there!” Percival argued, brows dipping low, “Your job
is to protect the students and the faculty! If you don't send someone back in
there, I'll take your ass to court!”
Roscuro tugged fervently at Grindelwald's vest, still breathing hard, and
Grindelwald looked ready to tremble out of his skin with rage.
“Damnit,” He cursed under his breath, pulling himself and Roscuro to their
feet. With a firm hand, Grindelwald tugged open Roscuro's collar, then
proceeded to rip off the shock collar latched tightly around his neck. “Utter a
word to anyone that isn't an officer, and I'll make sure you never say a word
again, do you understand me?”
Quickly, Roscuro nodded. Percival felt anxious, not wanting his other partner
running back into the burning building, but he watched Roscuro go without
another word. This was what Roscuro was trained for, Percival reasoned. He
would just have to hope that Newt and Roscuro would make it out just fine.
Running back into the building, Credence was immediately overwhelmed by the
smoke filling the halls and the blaring sirens still ringing. He wouldn't let
it slow him down, however, and he pushed his way through the bleakness. His
mask luckily doubled as a sort of respirator, though it did little to keep the
heavy stench of burning wood and plastic from clogging his senses. The top half
of his mask also kept the worst of the smoke and soot from stinging his eyes,
letting him walk quickly down the halls. He headed straight for Percival's
classroom, figuring the best place to look for Newt would be where he spent his
lunch.
He didn't have to go far, however. He found Newt halfway to Percival's class,
ushering students out of a classroom and directing them to cover their mouths
and noses with their shirts while doing the same himself. Credence made a dash
for the redhead, and just as Newt looked up at him, a third explosion hit the
school just down the hall.
Screams erupted all around them. Credence and the students were blown backward
from the force of the explosion, the air being punched out of Credence's lungs
for a horrifyingly long moment. The heat passed over him in a thick wave,
making the skin underneath his armor sting. He couldn't imagine what the
students or even Newt felt.
Shoving himself back to his feet, Credence pushed the disoriented students
towards the exit, making sure any injured were being guided out by another.
When he didn't see Newt immediately, he felt himself begin to panic.
“Newt!” He called out, throat scratchy from disuse and the smoke. “Newt!”
Tucked underneath the rubble of a collapsed wall, Newt faded in and out of
consciousness. He could feel blood spilling from his hairline. With a groan,
Newt tried to push himself up by his hands, but the debris pinned him down with
its weight, making his arms quiver from the strain. With a weak grunt, Newt
dropped back down to the floor, unable to push himself out from under the
wreckage, already feeling his skin burn from the fire crawling ever closer to
him.
“Newt!” A familiar voice shouted. Newt blinked blearily as he fought the desire
to give in and collapse. He knew that voice, he knew it but he couldn't quite
remember.
“Newt! Please!” He begged, and Newt tried to respond, tried to call out, but he
couldn't manage a noise, much less a word. It was just at the edge of his mind,
just out of reach who this voice belonged to. It incited a sort of nostalgia,
as well as sheer denial that it existed. He was probably already falling
unconscious, his mind creating one last hallucination before the fire took him.
“Newton!” The voice suddenly gasped, and the rubble was being shoved off of his
back, “Oh, thank you, God.
Newt struggled to look up at the man, recognizing in some part of his brain
that he was looking up at Roscuro, but a more prominent, in control part of his
mind finally piecing the puzzle together. Weakly, Newt tried to say his name.
His throat felt dry and his words came out as a wheeze, however. His eyes grew
blurry the thicker the smoke grew. Roscuro pulled Newt into his arms, checking
his pulse and patting his cheek, trying to rouse him from eternal sleep.
“Oh, God,” Roscuro whispered, promptly tearing his mask off in one piece and
fitting it over Newt's face. Coughing into the respirator, Newt struggled to
take an entire breath. Newt rapidly blinked the soot from his eyes now that no
more smoke was there to clog them, and he groaned as Roscuro scooped him up
into his arms and began to carry him away.
“Stay awake,” He told Newt, looking down at him every once in a while, and Newt
clung to Roscuro by the strap of his vest, staring at his face, feeling his
mind crumbling the more he looked at him.
When he felt like he was no longer choking on every breath, Newt asked in a
ragged voice, “C-Credence?”
“Shh, shh,” Roscuro—Credence--Whoever urged, walking through the school faster,
trying to fight off the smoke without his mask. “Take slow breaths. I got you.”
“Credence...” Newt whispered, his eyes burning for an entirely different
reason. He tightened his hold around the strap of his vest, tugging on it a bit
just to get Credence to look down at him again, feeling his heart burst and his
stomach twist with each glance. Even though his eyes grew blurry with the
tears, Newt still saw him, saw Credence smiling down at him, and he sobbed his
name again, “Credence.... Credence...”
“Almost there,” Credence told him, not knowing the way Newt's mind was twisting
over itself as he tried to reason how Credence could be there, holding him and
carrying him from this building when he should have been dead. Cognitive
dissonance had Newt doubting what he was seeing, and instead, he began to
believe that he truly was dead and that Credence was here to carry him to
heaven. Somehow, coming to that conclusion was far less painful than any
alternative, and he clung to Credence, buried his masked face against his
chest, and cried.
“I'm sorry,” He told Credence, although it didn't seem like the man heard him,
“God, I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to go. I never wanted you to take my
place. I—I would go back and change it if I could. I don't deserve this,
Credence...”
When light overcame them, Newt gave a shuddering breath. They were here, they
were in heaven. Nothing would hurt either of them again. Newt and Credence
could wait here in each other's arms until Percival joined them, and then they
would all be happy again. Maybe even when Theseus came to them, they would be
able to bury the hatchet between them. Newt only felt regret that he couldn't
have done so when he was still alive. He missed his brother so much. He wished
he could have told him that.
Newt didn't know what to expect at that point, but of every possibility that
crossed his mind, being abruptly dropped to the ground and rattling him out of
his delusion was not one of them. Landing on his backside with a painful grunt,
Newt snapped back to reality and watched through a soot-darkened visor as the
school building collapsed in the flame little by little. He watched this over
Roscuro's shoulder, Roscuro who had hidden his face against Newt's neck,
breathing just as heavily as Newt was. With a shaking hand, Newt tore off his
mask and dropped it in his lap. He wrapped one arm around Roscuro's neck,
holding him tightly as more tears fell down his cheeks.
“I was dead in there,” He whispered, his mind still trying to catch up with
everything he saw, “God, I was dead.... I... I saw Heaven...”
Roscuro pressed his face harder against Newt's neck, giving him a few sweet,
breathless kisses while he still hung over him. Newt clung to him tighter,
wrapping his other arm around Roscuro's neck as well, reeling from the
experience.
“You saved me,” Newt spoke, feeling his eyes well again, and he pushed Roscuro
back without a fight to meet his eyes, “You--” He was about to say it again,
but his throat constricted at the sight of Roscuro's messy, ash-covered face.
His dark eyes met Newt's, a hand lifted to push sweaty black hair from his
brow, and Newt thought he was still dreaming.
“C-Credence?” He squawked, watching the man blink in surprise before
realization dawned.
“N-n-no, I--” Credence scrambled for his mask, pulling it on, and he was so
suddenly Roscuro that Newt felt his brain snap in two, torn between the truth
of what he was seeing and what he had been told this whole time.
Unable to handle it any longer, Newt fainted in Credence's arms, catching only
the fleeting hush of Credence angrily whispering, “Oh—God bless it!”
 
Chapter End Notes
     lol psych
***** One Foot In *****
Newt woke up in a hospital room with his left wrist cuffed to the bed frame. He
came to himself slowly at first, eyelids fluttering lazily and jaw cracking
with a yawn. His head pulsed at the pull of muscle, urging a pained groan from
the redhead, and when he attempted to lift his hand to rub at his sore temple,
his hand caught on the metal cuff, clattering noisily in the otherwise quiet
room. He blinked, turned his head down, and tugged at the cuff again before his
mind began to catch up with reality.
Another, more desperate tug on the cuff and Newt felt his heart rate spike.
“No,” He mumbled, tugging harder on the cuff, then using his other hand to grab
it by the chain and tug harder, but it did nothing except cut into his skin.
“No, no...” His eyes caught on the needle taped to his inner arm, then traveled
along the IV line to the bag hanging on the metal rack beside him, filled with
a clear liquid that slowly dripped down into the chamber. His breath stuttered
to a halt and panic overtook him, but since the IV was taped to his right arm
and his left wrist was cuffed, he didn't have the capability of cognitive
thinking. He jerked his wrist hard against the cuff, trying to grab the IV so
he could rip it out, and he let out a pained yelp when the metal began to rub
his skin raw.
The door to his room suddenly swung open a moment after, admitting a nurse, a
doctor, and two armed guards, both of whom flanked the only entrance while the
nurse and doctor went to Newt's side, the nurse taking down Newt's vitals while
the doctor offered a kind smile and tried to calm the redhead down by
introducing herself.
“Hello, Mr. Scamander. I'm Dr. Roche. Do you remember what happened to you
yesterday?” She asked, putting her hand on Newt's cuffed wrist, as if hiding
the metal bracelet from his sight could make the fact that he was in a hospital
any more bearable.
“Why am I here?” Newt instead questioned, voice raised in pitch, “I-I shouldn't
be here! You can't—can't keep me here!”
“Mr. Scamander, please calm down,” Dr. Roche requested, “You're going to make
yourself hyperventilate. If you keep struggling, you're only going to
exacerbate your injuries.”
But Newt wasn't listening. He had gone deaf and blind in his panic, fighting
harder against the handcuff in his attempts to get away from the worried
doctor. Scrabbling at the cuffs with his nails and tearing into his own skin,
Newt blurted, “You don't have any r-records on me! You can't do this!”
“Mr. Scamander,” Dr. Roche tried to get him to calm down again, but Newt was
too on edge.
“Let me out! G-get this off of me!” Newt shouted now, struggling against the
cuff so hard that his skin was cut into by the metal and began to bleed.
Seeing that Newt wasn't going to be complying anytime soon, Dr. Roche gave a
sigh and said to her nurse, “Go get his brother.”
“Theseus! Theseus is here?” Newt gasped, his focus immediately shifting away
from the cuff on his wrist. “He'll tell you! I'm fine! I shouldn't be here!”
“Mr. Scamander,” Dr. Roche groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“L-Let me go, now! You c-can't kill me, you have no right!”
“Mr. Scamander!” Dr. Roche yelled, finally snapping, and Newt snapped into
silence. He stared up at the doctor with wide, round eyes, his breath caught in
his throat, and Dr. Roche took that moment of tense silence to explain, “You're
here because you were injured in the explosion. We're not going to kill you,
Mr. Scamander.”
Still breathing heavily, Newt slowly began to calm down. He looked from the
doctor to the nurse, both of whom weren't frowning in disdain but instead
worry. He began to believe that they really were there to help him in some way,
but that still didn't explain two things.
“Then what about this?” He questioned, pulling the cuff still chaining him to
the bed. “What about them?!” He gestured to the guards, both of whom remained
rigid and unflinching as they stood beside the door.
“Well,” The doctor began to explain, a touch of irritation in her voice as she
turned her attention to the guards. Whatever she might have said, however,
wouldn't be known, for the door suddenly swung open and Grindelwald made his
appearance, boasting loudly, “The little terrorist has finally awoken!” As he
stepped further inside, two more guards stepped in to join him, one bearing the
typical uniform, and the other wearing the notable mask that belonged strictly
to Roscuro. Newt felt his world jar at the sight of him and at the sudden
memories he brought with him.
He returned his gaze to Grindelwald as the man boldly claimed, “You just
weren't so impressive when you were caught in the explosion, were you?”
“Wh-wha—You think I set the bomb?” Newt sputtered, but it already looked like
no matter what Newt said, he wouldn't change the fact that Grindelwald was
already sold on the idea that Newt was the one responsible. Still, Newt
defended himself with a stiff, “There's no way. Why would I do such a thing?”
“There are many reasons why, Scamander,” Grindelwald leered, casually
approaching the foot of Newt's bed with his head held high and a winning smirk
on his face, “You were the one who started the riots in the first place. You
were arrested at one, in fact! When you didn't gather enough support as fast as
you pleased, you upped the ante and set an explosive off in the middle of the
day. You killed eight students,not to mention the others who were heavily
injured!”
“That wasn't me!” Newt argued just as loudly.
“It was, and we both know it!” Grindelwald spat, jutting a stern finger in
Newt's direction, “And once I gather the evidence, I'll put you down like the
scum you are.”
“There is no evidence!” Newt huffed, eyes wide, “I didn't set the bomb!”
Scoffing, Grindelwald growled out, “I don't care what you say. I'm not going to
rest until you're nothing more than a memory. I'll make sure you will never
leave this room alive.”
“You're insane!” Newt blurted, “You can't do this to me—I demand a lawyer!”
“Go ahead! No one is going to be able to save you from this hole you dug
yourself into!” Grindelwald grinned, and that seemed to be the final straw.
Standing up to her full height, the doctor approached Grindelwald and set her
hands on her hips.
“Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're causing the patient
unnecessary stress!” She declared, and Grindelwald turned a shocked look in her
direction. Where others may have quaked, this Dr. Roche remained surly, either
out of confidence in herself or ignorance of Grindelwald's personality. When
Grindelwald opened his mouth to argue, she cut him off with a sharp, “Leave.”
She even paired it with a firm jab in the direction of the door, “And take your
brutes with you.”
Grindelwald actually wavered. He took a step back and blinked in shock. Being
told to go not only once but twice without a second of doubt was new to
Grindelwald it seemed, and he didn't know what to do. Instead of lashing out he
obeyed, although he gave one last threatening, “I'll be back for you,
Scamander.” Then, without looking at his men, he ordered his guards, “Come on.”
He stepped out first, followed closely by one officer and the guards by the
door. Roscuro, however, lingered behind, and even though Dr. Roche crossed her
arms and stared him down, Roscuro was caught looking down at Newt. Newt,
meanwhile, felt calm and anxious all at once.
Quietly, as if worried that Grindelwald was just lurking behind the door and
listening, Newt whispered, “Cre... dence?”
Roscuro didn't move answer, not vocally at least. His hands squeezed into tight
fists, the leather gloves creaking between his fingers. Newt trembled where he
sat, tugging a bit on the cuff on his wrist. Roscuro began to shake, and Newt
felt a sudden wave of certainty wash over him.
His eyes welled with tears while his heart rocketed in his chest. He didn't
understand how this was possible. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact
that Credence was alive. After half a year, he was alive. Roscuro only looked
more tense, especially when the tears fell from Newt's eyes, and although Newt
felt shocked and happy and blessed, he blurted angrily, “Why—Why haven't you
said anything? Why didn't you tell us?”
Roscuro remained silent, and even though he hadn't said a word thus far, his
voicelessness seemed especially aggravating now. With tears still running down
his face, Newt whispered, “I—I can't believe—I mean—Is it really you? C-can you
just—just tell me?”
Roscuro took a deep breath and stood stiffly. Newt felt his lips tremble and
his jaw clench, his silence physically hurting him. Impatiently, Newt begged,
“Just tell me!”
“Roscuro!” Grindelwald's voice shouted from a distance, and the officer jumped
to attention, head twisting towards the door, “Lets. Go!”
Hesitantly, Roscuro began to step towards the door. Newt huffed in disbelief,
his heart telling him that this was Credence without a doubt, yet his mind
coming up with every single argument against that fact. His chest ached and his
stomach churned, so he turned his head away and waited for the door to shut.
When he heard it click, he lifted his gaze, fully expecting Roscuro to have
left. However, much to Newt's surprise, Roscuro was standing right beside his
bed, hands trembling with nerves. Newt felt his breath catch. He moved to lift
his hand, but the cuff caught him mid-action. Instead of letting it drop back
down, however, Roscuro caught his hand with his own, lacing their fingers
together and giving a firm squeeze. Newt's lashes fluttered as he looked up at
Roscuro, hope swelling in his chest so quickly he couldn't even breathe.
Squeezing back, Newt asked once again, just as softly, “Credence?”
Roscuro's grip tightened again and then, with just the slightest twitch of a
muscle, he nodded.
Newt didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to laugh and cry. He wanted
to pull Credence down and kiss him senseless but he wanted to hold him to his
chest and never let go as well. He wanted to yell at Credence for never trying
to tell them, but also he wanted to tell him that it was okay, that everything
was forgiven, that he loved him. He was sure his face had gone through a series
of ugly expressions. The noise that came from the back of his throat was
embarrassing at the least, but he couldn't care less, not when he had Credence
there. God, wait until he told Percival!
His excitement was cut short when Grindelwald pounded on the door, yelling
through it, “Roscuro! Get your ass out here now!”
Suddenly, Newt's happiness was sucked dry. Desperately he clung to Credence,
but he pulled away regardless, keeping his gaze on Newt for a long moment
before he headed for the door. Just as he was settling his hand on the knob,
Newt whispered, “I l-love you...”
Credence paused, only for a second, then pulled the door open and stepped out,
right into Grindelwald's grasp.
When the door closed again, Dr. Roche took a breath, then looked at Newt
pitifully before saying, “If it counts for anything, I believe you.”
Newt blinked, taken off guard, and he blurted out, “Wh-what?”
“I believe you. I know you didn't plant the bomb.” Dr. Roche clarified, brows
furrowed, “Nobody would have sustained as many wounds as you have if they
planted the bomb. Not unless they were trying to kill themselves with it.”
Approaching his bedside, Dr. Roche said, “And you don't seem the kind who wants
to die.”
“Oh,” Newt breathed, bringing up his free hand to wipe his tears away, trying
to gather himself, “Um... thank you.”
Dr. Roche smiled, then said, “I hope you're not too rattled by all of that.”
“Oh?” Newt sniffed, although he certainly felt overwhelmed.
“You have some other visitors who have been waiting patiently to hear about
you.” Dr. Roche smiled, and Newt immediately perked up. It must be Percival, he
thought. He suddenly felt eager to see his older partner, excited to tell him
the news. Seeing Newt's eyes clear with excitement, Dr. Roche grinned and said,
“I'll go get them since you seem to be doing fine. Just try not to hurt your
wrist anymore, okay?”
“O-Okay. Okay.” Newt nodded quickly, watching as she and her nurse left the
room. Alone once more, Newt reclined back in his bed and tried to process what
had just happened.
A bomb was set off at school. He ended up in the hospital and under suspicion
of planting said bomb. Credence was alive.
God, Newt felt the tears well again. Credence was alive.
But how? Newt didn't know. He saw Credence walk into the kill hall. Saw him
enter those metal doors that Newt thankfully exited from. He saw the haggard
expression on his face, the grim acceptance on Percival's the day after.
Did Grindelwald know? He had to. So why bring Credence here? Surely someone
else would notice. One of the guards, maybe. Even if Credence didn't speak to
any of them, one of them was bound to see Credence without his mask. One of
them was bound to recognize him as Mary Lou's son.
Grindelwald couldn't have been that brash. He had to have at least a modicum of
self-preservation. He had to realize what a terrible idea it was to bring him
here. Either he didn't actually know or he was more arrogant than Newt
realized. The redhead huffed, struggling to believe that it was anything other
than Grindelwald's arrogance.
Breaking him out of his train of thought was the door opening again, and Newt
perked up right away, fully expecting Percival to be standing there, perhaps a
little mad and a little stressed but mostly relieved. He put a reassuring smile
on his face, preparing for Percival's inevitable lecture, but he was confronted
with the haggard, harried face of his older brother Theseus.
“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander!” Theseus tried to scold, but his voice was far
too breathy, far too relieved. He stomped his way into the room and didn't even
give Newt a moment to process what was happening before he was wrapping his
arms around him. “You damned fool! I can't let you out of my sight for a
second! You—You had me so—so—urgh!” Theseus held Newt tighter, squeezing his
little brother against his chest as he fought back tears of relief. Newt
squirmed in Theseus' tight hold, his own eyes growing wet once more, and he
tentatively returned the crushing hug.
“I-I'm okay, Theseus,” Newt said gently, but it only made Theseus sob against
his ear.
“You were nearly blown to bits!” Theseus argued, pulling back enough to look
Newt over, scowling deeply at the bandages covering his forehead and the burns
on his face and arms, “Bloody hell, just look at you...” With a deep sigh,
Theseus tucked his forehead against Newt's closing his eyes and merely holding
his little brother close, “I'm.... so glad you're okay.”
Newt bit back his tears. He tried to clear his throat to subdue them, but even
that noise sounded wet. Still trying to peer up at Theseus' face, even from the
close distance, Newt asked, “What are you doing here, Theseus? I thought you
were mad at me...”
With a groan, Theseus said, “I'm not mad at you, Newt. I was never mad at you.”
“Then why didn't you come see me? Why didn't you try to call me?” Newt
questioned, brows furrowed, and Theseus pulled back enough so that they could
have this conversation eye-to-eye. He looked meek, Newt realized. And a little
embarrassed.
“I thought you were upset with me,” Theseus explained softly, if not a touch
ashamed, “I didn't want to seem pushy so I... I thought I'd wait until you
contacted me first. And then I didn't hear from you for months and I.... I
guess I thought you were doing just fine without me.”
“Theseus,” Newt huffed, feeling his older brother's pain in his chest.
“I guess I was just being stubborn too,” Theseus pushed on, “I wanted you to
come to me first. Wanted to say 'I told you so' when things with Percival
didn't work out. But... well, I guess they did, didn't they? You're... you're
growing up so fast, Newt. I guess I never realized how quickly you would become
an adult.”
“Oh—Stop it, you daft man,” Newt blurted, feeling his face heat up from the
light name-calling, feeling so awkward after not speaking to his brother for a
half-year, “Just because I'm grown doesn't mean I'm shutting you out. We're...
we're all we got, you know.”
Theseus blinked back tears, but a watery smile stretched across his face
regardless and Newt felt a weight lift from his chest. All of a sudden, Newt
felt like he could breathe easier than he had that entire school year. When
Theseus pulled Newt into another hug, Newt returned it without hesitation, and
he even smiled when Theseus said to him, “I love you, little brother.”
A soft tap-tap on the door urged Theseus to pull away, the two Scamanders
looking at the newcomer curiously. Upon finally seeing Percival there, Newt
smiled and relaxed fully, while Theseus looked ready to bolt. Percival returned
Newt's soft smile, although his eyes were heavy with dark bags underneath them,
exhaustion making the crows feet at the corners more prominent than usual. He
stepped into the room and said in a gruff tone, “I figured I'd let him see you
first. I knew the two of you have a lot to talk about, but I got a little
impatient. How are you?”
“Sore,” Newt grinned, then he gestured to his cuff and added, “I don't think
bail is going to get me out of this one. Grindelwald is certain I set the
bomb.”
“What?” Theseus blurted, looking at his brother while he settled more
comfortably atop Newt's bed, sitting at the edge, “Is he delusional? What
reason have you got to do such a thing?”
“I haven't a clue. He claims I dd it because of the protests.” Newt explained,
glancing at Percival as he settled himself down in a seat beside Newt and
Theseus, not caring about the older Scamander's discomfort.
“That bastard just doesn't know when to leave things be,” Percival grunted,
slumping into the chair as if he had constantly been on his feet up until that
moment. “They'll be reviewing the security footage right now. As soon as they
see you had nothing to do with it, they'll let you go.”
“But there aren't any cameras in the classrooms, I thought? I was at my desk
when the first explosion went off.” Newt pointed out, but Percival still looked
at ease.
“True, but they'll be able to find the person who did set the bombs. Or at
least, they'll see that you weren't off sneaking around the campus. They won't
be able to pin anything on you, no matter what Grindelwald says.” Percival
reassured him, his eyes looking heavy and his words sounding practiced as if he
had been repeating them.
“You're certain about that?” Theseus asked anxiously, looking between Newt and
Percival, “Because if you're not one hundred percent certain, I won't hesitate
to move us to another country.”
“You won't have to take it that far,” Percival chuckled, lazily looking
Theseus' way, “Even if worse comes to worse and Newt goes to court, I have
friends in very high places. I can find Newt a handful of lawyers that can get
him a not-guilty verdict.”
Theseus, still looking skeptical, turned to his brother and asked, “Do you
trust this man?”
To which Newt replied without a doubt, “With my life. Which, ironically, is
exactly what's on the line.”
Although Theseus didn't seem to like it, he settled his hands on his knees and
muttered, “Fine. I'll hold off on running away to Canada. But if things look
bad, I'm taking Newt, no questions.”
“Understood. I'll let you know when to start packing.” Percival agreed, and it
seemed like his compliance to keep Newt safe above all else was what really won
Theseus over. The elder Scamander relaxed even more and even held out a hand to
shake. Percival took the offer with a tired smile.
“Water under the bridge?” Percival queried, and Theseus's lips pursed before he
nodded.
“Does this mean you'll come over for the holidays?” Newt asked, wide-eyed, and
Theseus gave him an apologetic smile.
“Of course. Either that, or you'll come to mine.” Theseus offered, earning an
eager grin from his brother.
They talked about lighthearted things, wanting to keep the air casual and
pleasant between the three of them. They didn't want to think about Grindelwald
or the explosions or the cuff around Newt's wrist. Newt held back on bringing
up Credence to Percival since Theseus was still there. He felt that such a
conversation should be held in private, between himself and his partner. He
didn't want Theseus butting in on what was sure to be a very sensitive
conversation.
Their whimsical energy kept their spirits up. Dr. Roche and her nurses took
care of Newt for the duration of his stay, making sure he stay clean and
comfortable and, more importantly, his injuries remained under control.
“What happens if I'm released before they clear my name?” Newt asked Dr. Roche
one day when Percival and Theseus had left for the day.
“Usually they move suspects into a holding cell,” Dr. Roche explained casually,
taking a close look at the head injury Newt sustained, pleased at his recovery,
“But you shouldn't worry yourself over that. I will not release a patient if I
believe they still require my care.” Looking at Newt with a sly smile, Dr.
Roche said, “And, despite how quickly you are healing, I'm worried about
internal injuries. Sometimes after a traumatic experience, symptoms won't show
until days, sometimes even weeks after the incident. I'd like you to remain
close at hand in case any of these symptoms make an appearance.”
Blinking owlishly and feeling at a loss for words, Newt uttered a genuine,
“Thank you...”
Winking at him mischievously, Dr. Roche stood from Newt's bedside and headed
for the door. “Get some rest, Mr. Scamander. Head injuries can be a silent
killer. Another reason why I want to keep you close.”
Laughing a little, Newt settled back in his bed and got comfortable. He closed
his eyes just as his door clicked shut and felt himself already beginning to
doze off when a ruckus grew just outside his room. He only heard muffled voices
at first, barely enough to rouse him completely. When those voices began to
yell, however, Newt blinked his eyes open and pushed himself back up.
His door was blown open so suddenly that Newt jumped where he sat, and in less
than three long strides, Grindelwald was towering over him, being held back
just barely by Roscuro's hands wrapped tightly around his arm.
“You damned boy! I know it was you!” Grindelwald spat out, the volume of his
voice setting Newt a-trembling already, even though he hardly knew what the man
was talking about. “I know you're the one behind all of this! I don't care who
set the bomb—you're the one responsible! And I swear, I swear, I will stop at
nothing until you are behind bars or on death row!”
Roscuro pulled harder at Grindelwald's arm, trying to get him to step back even
more, but this only redirected the man's anger to him, and with a snarl on his
face, Grindelwald reeled a hand back and struck Roscuro across his masked face,
effortlessly throwing the officer to the ground and sending his mask skittering
across the floor.
“No!” Newt shouted, trying to scramble out of the bed, but the cuff on his
wrist and the IV in his arm held him back. Desperate, Newt shouted, “Keep your
hands off of him!”
“Oh, shut up!” Grindelwald sneered, kicking Roscuro's mask towards the officer
then turned to the door. Roscuro grabbed his mask with a shaking hand and
slowly pulled it on, only raising his head when it was securely in place.
Newt watched him get to his feet, heart pounding away in his chest, and when
the officer seemed steady, Newt asked, “Are you okay?”
Roscuro swallowed at the question, shoulders stiff and stance meek, but he
offered a nod anyways. Newt wasn't convinced, but there wasn't much he could do
from his bed. Desperate to comfort him, Newt whispered, “As soon as I'm out of
here, I'll do everything I can to get you out too.”
Roscuro didn't respond, but Newt didn't really expect him to. In his silence,
Newt promised him, “I'll bring you home again. I swear it.”
“Roscuro, you idiot, let's go!” Grindelwald shouted from down the hall, and
Roscuro scrambled to obey. Newt watched with an aching heart as the officer
slipped from his grasp once again.
When a nurse showed up with a key in hand, Newt asked him, “Who set the bomb?”
As the nurse uncuffed him, he answered, “Mary Lou's daughter. Chastity
Barebone.”
Newt let out a short breath, mind filled with his brief memory of her,
remembering his reluctance to hear her out about Credence because he was
certain that the boy was dead. Even she was certain he was dead. She thought he
was haunting her. She had really seemed scared when he last saw her, but for
her to go this far... she must have been driven mad.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Newt rubbed his sore wrist and thanked the nurse
for freeing him. Later on that afternoon, Dr. Roche discharged him, and
Percival was there to pick him up. The man had brought Newt fresh clothes so he
didn't have to wear his tattered outfit, and when they were on their way home,
Percival said kindly, “I told you they'd have nothing on you.”
“Yeah...” Newt mumbled, still thinking about Chastity, still thinking about
Credence, wondering just how Chastity had gone so far off the handle. He was so
lost in his own thoughts that when Percival reached out to him and took his
hand, Newt nearly jumped back to reality. Smiling, Newt slid their fingers
together, then squeezed his hand.
“Everything alright over there?” Percival asked him, glancing Newt's way in
between paying attention to the road. Newt smiled a bit more and held
Percival's hand close.
“Yeah,” He told him. And then, because he knew he was just going to burst if he
didn't bring it up, he told Percival, “I have something to tell you when we get
home.”
“Oh really?” Percival hummed, a curious smile on his lips, “And what would that
be?”
Newt laughed and emphasized, “I said when we get home! Does this look like home
to you?”
In a sudden moment of vulnerability, Percival replied, “Wherever you wander off
to, that's my home.”
Newt was touched, but he had no clue how to respond. He sat there in silence,
lips parted and eyes wide. Percival flushed with embarrassment, and in an
effort to return to something lighter, Percival mentioned, “If you're going to
leave me for that nurse that gave you a sponge bath, tell me now.”
Newt blushed himself, deciding to file away Percival's words for later
speculation before replying, “Absolutely not. I'm spoken for, you know.”
Smiling at Newt's response, Percival got comfortable in his seat and allowed
the conversation to die down. Newt continued to hold Percival's free hand,
enjoying the warmth, the gentle whisper of a heartbeat in his palm.
Newt didn't bring up Credence until they had settled back in at home. The
school was closed while repairs were being done, so Newt and Percival didn't
have to worry about work at the moment. Percival mentioned that class would be
resuming before the buildings were back in one piece, but it still wouldn't be
for at least a week. The night back from the hospital, Percival prepared a
quick dinner for them and they ate in the living room, the coffee table holding
their plates and the couch as their backrest while they sat on the floor. As
they picked at their food, Percival looked at Newt and asked, “What did you
want to tell me?”
Immediately, Newt became flustered. Struggling to string the words together,
Newt admitted, “There isn't really an easier way to say this...” and at that,
Percival became more alert. This was going to be a serious conversation, he
realized, and he was ready for it. Newt took in a long, deep breath, then
finally blurted out, “Credence is alive.”
Percival blinked. His face remained stony and he blinked again. Newt waited
with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes wide and hopeful. Percival
took in a long breath, one hand coming up to rub anxiously at his mouth, and he
blinked a third time.
“That isn't funny.” He finally said, and Newt quickly shook his head.
“I'm not joking. Credence is alive.” Newt said again, putting a hand on
Percival's thigh, “He's alive and he's masquerading as Roscuro.”
Percival froze for a moment, a dark look crossing his face, and then he
mumbled, “Ah. I see.” Newt smiled, thinking Percival was finally catching on,
but then the man was saying, “He was the one who got you out of the school. Not
to mention he filled Credence's place in our relationship...”
“What?” Newt shook his head, bewildered, “Percival, I'm being serious. I saw
his face back when he saved me! He took his mask off in front of me!”
“You sustained a pretty bad head injury,” Percival said in a monotone voice,
brows furrowed, “All of that smoke couldn't have been good for you either.”
Baffled, Newt asked, “Are you serious?”
“Maybe I should call the hospital. Obviously, they overlooked something.”
Percival mumbled, already pushing himself to his feet, but Newt threw out an
arm and grabbed Percival by the wrist.
Yanking him back down to a seated position, Newt looked Percival in the eye and
said in his most serious, most convincing tone he could muster, “Percival. I am
not joking. I know what I saw. Roscuro is Credence!”
Percival stared back at him, silent and unmoved. Newt's gaze flickered between
Percival's eyes, mentally willing the man to just believehim, but Percival was
unbreakable. With a firm jerk, Percival tore his arm from Newt's grip and
proceeded to stand. “We're done talking about this.” He declared, walking away
from Newt, “If you don't want me to call the hospital, don't bring him up
again.”
Percival left the room after that. He had had enough of Newt's antics and he
needed to cool down before he did something he'd regret. Newt, however, only
felt stubbornly determined by Percival's reluctance. He didn't chase after the
man, however. He waited, a tad impatiently, but he waited.
He kept his mouth shut all the way until he and Percival were settling down for
the night, Percival still sour from their earlier conversation and expressing
it in the distance he put between himself and Newt. Newt, meanwhile, got
comfortable where he lay, turned his head to look at Percival, then asked, “Why
is it so impossible for Credence to still be alive?”
Percival gave a heavy sigh but didn't immediately answer. Newt instead
continued with, “Do you even know what they do with the bodies?”
“Yes,” Percival finally retorted, sounding just as exhausted as he looked,
“They burn them.”
But Newt wasn't backing down for a second. “That's a lot of bodies to burn,” He
pointed out, and although he knew he was treading on dangerous territory, he
couldn't leave it be, “And yet America constantly totes how eco-friendly it's
been. How can a country minimize their carbon footprint while still cremating
five percent of their population?”
“What else would they do with them, then?” Percival questioned, frowning over
at Newt.
“I don't know,” Newt admitted, “But I don't think they're killing them.”
Huffing, Percival turned his back to the young man and angrily tucked himself
around his pillow. “Goodnight,” He muttered stiffly, putting an end to the
conversation. Newt set his jaw in a firm line, feeling the vein at his temple
pulse with irritation, but he let the conversation die nonetheless.
But he would be damned if Percival thought he would be letting it go.
When they were getting dressed for their day in, Newt asked Percival, “Have you
ever seen them take the bodies to be cremated?” And Percival ignored him.
When the show they watched broke for commercials, Newt turned to Percival and
asked, “Do you even know wherethey cremate the bodies?”
While Percival was cooking and Newt was setting the table, Newt asked over his
shoulder, “I mean, doesn't Roscuro just feel so familiar somehow? Hasn't he
always felt familiar?”
During dinner, mid-chew, Newt asked, “Have you ever seen any of those officers
without masks besides Grindelwald?”
Even while Newt washed dishes and Percival dried them and put them away, Newt
said, “Do you even hear about officer training camps or schools? I've never
once heard anyone mention becoming an officer. How do they get so many men and
women if no one wants to be one?”
Finally, just as the two of them were laying in bed, Newt turned to Percival
and opened his mouth, but Percival spoke before Newt could utter a word.
“Okay!” He declared in an exasperated tone, dropping his book onto his lap and
snatching the glasses from his nose, “Okay. You want to talk about this? Fine.”
Excited at finally being heard, Newt sat up and said, “Credence is Roscuro.”
“Credence is dead and Roscuro is someone completely different.” Percival
argued, meeting Newt's gaze with his own tired eyes, “You're stuck on this
fantasy because Roscuro replaced Credence in our relationship before you moved
on and he pulled you out of a crumbling building. You're glorifying him and the
best way your mind can figure out how to do that is to pretend he's someone
he's not.”
“Credence took his mask off and put it on me when he saved me from the school.
I saw his face when we got out. It's him, Percival. I know it's him.” Newt said
in retaliation, but Percival only rolled his eyes.
“You were unconscious when Roscuro brought you to us. You dreamt what you saw.”
“No. Even in the hospital, when it was just us, I asked him if he was Credence
and he said yes!” Newt claimed.
“He can't talk.”
“He nodded!”
“And do you have proof?” Percival huffed, glowering at Newt, “Because you could
have very well dreamt that, too.”
Newt hesitated, eyes wide, but then he grinned and said, “Dr. Roche. She was
there the whole time.”
Disbelieving, Percival asked, “So if I were to call the doctor right now--?”
“She wouldn't lie! She saw me ask him if he was Credence. She saw him nod!”
Newt answered confidently, but when Percival reached towards his phone charging
on the nightstand, Newt grabbed him by the wrist and asked in a panic, “What
are you doing?!”
“I'm going to call Dr. Roche,” Percival said flatly, as if there was nothing
else he could have been doing.
“Are you daft? It's the middle of the night!” Newt huffed, and Percival allowed
Newt to pull him back into place, “Just because you want to prove me wrong
doesn't mean you can wake the woman up!”
“Doctors work odd hours. I can call the hospital and see if she's on her
shift.” Percival reasoned, but Newt still didn't let him go.
“We can ask her in the morning,” Newt reassured, looking into Percival's eyes,
“Until then, answer me honestly; If Credence is alive, then who else is?”
“Nobody else, because Credence is not alive,” Percival grumbled, eyebrows
twitching.
“Then just humor me!” Newt insisted, nudging Percival in the arm, “It can't
just be him, can it?”
With a heavy sigh, Percival replied, “Do you know how much Grindelwald would be
risking if he kept Credence alive? There's no way he'd keep anyone else alive.”
“So then why would he risk keeping Credence alive?” Newt wondered, laying down
on his side of the bed, tucking an arm under his head so he could keep looking
at Percival.
“He wouldn't.” Percival grunted, lying down as well, although this time he
stayed on his back, “Grindelwald is an egotistical maniac, but he isn't
careless.”
“Maybe not, but he's overconfident. I bet he thinks he could get away with
something this nefarious.” Newt argued, brows furrowed, “He was obsessed with
Credence before the Thinning. I can't help but think that... that if he had a
chance to keep Credence to himself, he'd take it.”
“So, what, you think he convinced his officers to just let this slide? You
don't think they'd report it to anyone?” Percival pointed out fairly, but Newt
only shrugged.
“I mean, who else can they report to? Isn't Grindelwald the man in charge?”
“Of this district, sure,” Percival confirmed, “But that doesn't mean there
aren't other districts they can go to.”
“And what would they do? Who would theyreport to?” Newt queried, and this made
Percival hesitate. Thinking about it for a long while, the man admitted softly:
“I... I'm not sure. Their governor? The police?” He suggested, but Newt didn't
look impressed.
“If Grindelwald can convince his men to not only let Credence live but to
attack students who are peacefully protesting and kill those who fail, what
makes you think he couldn't convince them to fight and die for him?” And then,
just because the thought was just ludicrous enough to warrant mentioning, Newt
even suggested, “And how do we know Grindelwald's influence doesn't extend to
the other districts?”
Heaving a heavy sigh, Percival said, “Now you're just grasping at smoke. It's
not convincing me more or less that Credence is alive and that he's actually
Roscuro.”
“Then what would?” Newt pushed, stubbornly determined, “There has to be
something I can show you. Credence had to have shown some sort of subconscious
characteristic. Something distinctly him. Or maybe he has a birthmark
somewhere? Uniquely shaped or placed?”
Rolling his eyes, Percival said dismissively, “Credence was quiet and subdued.
There wasn't a thing about him that made him stand out. He wore the same style
of clothing every day, had skin as pale and spotless as porcelain, and held
himself so rigidly you could mistake him for a marble statue. The only way you
could pick him out of a crowd was if he wanted you to.”
Shaking his head, Newt insisted, “There's no way that's all he was. He
interested you. You love him.” Finding Percival's hand on top of the blankets,
Newt laced their fingers together and urged, “Think of the little things. The
things that made you fall for him.”
Percival gave Newt a cold look at first. It hurt, and Newt knew it, but this
was important to the redhead. And if this was important to him, then Percival
could at least try.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Percival stared up at the ceiling and let
his mind fill with memories and thoughts of Credence. Even after half a year,
Credence's face was so crisp in Percival's mind. His rigid stature when sitting
behind his desk. The shy, self-conscious way he tucked his shoulders up towards
his ears whenever another student drew too close to him. The deeply hidden
spark he had in those dark eyes of his when he approached Percival for help so
many years ago, even though his hands shook and sweat beaded at his temples.
Percival felt a smile tug on his lips, small but there. Credence had been so
scared of him, so intimidated. Percival felt his heart bleed for the poor
thing, he couldn't not help him.
Closing his eyes, he remembered how frustrated Credence got over the work they
covered, how he squeezed the pencil tightly in his fist and clenched his jaw
until his teeth squeaked. It was the only time he ever showed any sort of
extreme emotion, and he still kept it under such a tight leash that Percival
had to squint to see it. When his frustration grew too much, Credence became
despondent and vanished within himself, body slack and eyes blank with
hopelessness. The first time it happened, Percival had to reach out and touch
him to make sure he was still with him, make sure the strain hadn't killed him.
And Credence completely unraveled at the feeling of Percival's warm hand on his
skin. The soft sigh he gave and the way his eyes fluttered shut made heat curl
in the pit of Percival's stomach. When his wine-red lips parted and his head
tilted backward, Percival could feel his blood boil. When Credence opened his
eyes and looked at Percival, they made a connection, and Credence understood
what he wanted. He understood, and he wanted it too.
Their first kiss was dangerous, the door unlocked and faculty members and
officers still wandering around the campus. They stayed seated in their own
chairs, kept their hands to themselves, and allowed only their lips to press
for a short time. Credence was starstruck and Percival felt his confidence
soar. Suddenly this old, haggard man felt sexy and desirable and lustful, and
his eyes drew to Credence as if he were magnetized. Credence tried to keep his
head down in class. He tried to be a good boy and listen to Percival's
lectures. He tried, but Percival could see him squirm under his attention. His
pale cheeks would burn red like his lips, his dark eyes would sparkle with
subdued mischief, and he would fiddle restlessly with whatever was on his desk,
his hands unable to stop moving even for a moment. It made Percival feel
powerful, made him feel like, with a snap of his fingers, Credence would do
anything for him.
He tested it. He pushed Credence. He made him do things he didn't think he
would have ever asked a partner to do. At first, it was little things; sit here
in class or eat this for lunch or even let me touch you here. Percival pushed
his limits, seeing how far he could go before Credence wormed out of his grip.
And it turned out, much to Percival's delight, he was able to push the boy
quite far.
He didn't think he would have his hand sliding down the front of Credence's
slacks so quickly, but there they were, Credence's hips twitching awkwardly
while Percival jerked him off for the first time. He thought that maybe
Credence would stop him when he pulled the boy to his knees and forced himself
down his throat, especially when Credence coughed and choked and gasped for
breath, but the moment Credence gathered himself from the shock, he was sinking
back down again and fighting against his gag reflex to take all of him. When
Percival twisted Credence's arms behind his back and bent him over his desk,
Credence spread his legs wide and let the man eat him out, shivering in
pleasure the entire time. The only time Credence ever showed resistance was
when Percival first made love to him, and only then it was because he was
afraid that he was dirty. It took a lot of coaxing, a lot of sweet, tear-filled
kisses and gentle touches to convince him otherwise. Or rather, convince him
enough that he wrapped his legs around Percival's hips and bit down on his
sleeve while the older man slid into place.
From there, it was only a matter of time before Credence was crawling to
Percival himself, sliding onto his lap and grinding on the man, trying to
convey exactly what he wanted while blinking innocent eyes and pouting his
lips. Percival could barely stand even a second without touching Credence.
Class became torture, and he could only find satisfaction in the knowledge that
Credence was suffering right alongside him.
But despite all of that, despite all of the memories, he couldn't think of a
single thing that would make Percival think 'yes, this is definitely Credence.'
Nothing short of seeing his face would convince Percival that Roscuro and
Credence were one in the same.
Opening his eyes once more, Percival admitted, “I can't think of a single
thing.”
Newt frowned and he squeezed Percival's hand in reassurance. “Maybe it won't
come so easily, but I know you can think of something.”
Feeling morose, Percival mumbled, “No. And it doesn't matter anyway. Credence
is dead.”
Newt frowned deeper, his brows dipping low and his grip tightening. This time,
however, he decided to leave it be. He pestered Percival enough about this...
for today. He would try again when the man wasn't so wound up.
Morning finally came, finding Newt eating his breakfast groggily at the table
while Percival stood by the brewing coffee machine, cell phone in hand and
finger poised over the call button. The number to the hospital had been typed
in already, but he was frozen with hesitation. He wanted to call, but he
already felt like he knew the outcome. He knew that no matter what this doctor
might tell him, his mind would remain unchanged.
When the coffee finished brewing and the last few drops fell into the pot, Newt
lifted his head from his plate and peered curiously at Percival, noting his
statuesque stance. Settling his fork down, Newt inquired softly, “Are you going
to call?”
Percival held the phone tightly, trying to urge himself to call, to convince
himself that this might change something, that he might fall for the trickery
Newt had so pitifully entrapped himself in. His finger hovered over the button,
but he still did not press. Finally, with a sort of reluctant sigh, Percival
replied gruffly, “No. It's not going to change how I feel. It's not going to
convince me otherwise.”
Newt sat there at the table, eyes on Percival and mind reeling in thought.
“What will?” He asked, but Percival could only shake his head. There was
nothing, he thought, that would convince Percival that Credence was alive. Even
seeing him standing there, breathing and speaking to him, Percival wouldn't
believe it. Anyone could look like Credence, but no one could replace him, not
really. Percival wouldn't be tricked.
As if reading the doubt in Percival's body language, Newt said, “There has to
be something that will change your mind.”
“There's nothing.” Percival groused slowly, emphasizing his words by placing
his phone firmly on the countertop. He could hear Newt suck in a breath between
his teeth, could feel the tense air from where he stood, two yards away, but he
remained stoic.
“Not my word, not the doctor's...” Newt thought aloud, frustrated but far from
giving up, “What about Credence's?”
“Newt,” Percival sighed, head dropping, exhaustion overwhelming.
“When school starts again, I'll prove it,” Newt promised, brows pinched in a
crease, “I'll make Credence admit it. One way or another, you'll see.”
All Percival could do was sigh.
 
 
***** December *****
The school took more than a week to be repaired back to something sustainably
safe. During the two and a half weeks it was closed, however, the school board
remained active, and with them, the district officers. More specifically,
Grindelwald.
Three days before the school was finally scheduled to be opened, Grindelwald
stood with Principal Picquery in her office. He was accompanied by Credence and
Samson, while she was accompanied by the Superintendent, a much older and, in
Grindelwald's opinion, more bearable Mr. Graves, Sr.
“Your worries are appreciated but unneeded,” Principal Picquery said, smoothly
leaning back in her leather upholstered chair while crossing one leg over the
other, shifting her tight pencil-skirt just slightly. One elbow rested
comfortably on the armrest, fingers intertwined with the other hand, completely
at ease, “The terrorist was captured not long after the explosion thanks to you
and your officers. There is no longer a threat.”
Grindelwald smiled as genuinely as he could at the compliment, but still argued
his point, “I appreciate your faith in me, ma'am, but saying there is no longer
a threat is foolhardy at best.” Standing opposite to Piqcuery and Graves Sr.,
Grindelwald folded his arms behind his back and explained, “If I may be so
blunt, all we have done is cover up the issue, not address it. You cannot
assume a rat problem has been subdued if you capture one measly mouse. You have
to eradicate them from the source.”
“And you believe there is a source to eradicate?” Graves Sr. asked, his voice
deep like his son's but far colder, far more disciplined than him. His black
eyes were devoid of any emotion as if he breathed professionalism right from
his lungs. He sat beside Picquery, both arms splayed out, feet planted firmly
on the carpeted floor at a comfortable distance. He made Picquery's office feel
like his office, even if the placard on the desk had her name engraved on it.
“I do, Superintendent Graves. And I want to address it today.” Grindelwald
claimed, taking a step forward, making sure their eyes were on him and only
him, “This bombing was not an attack on our school—not entirely.” Picquery's
eyes widened just a fraction while Graves Sr. narrowed his in speculation,
“This was an attack on one specific person, someone who has wormed his way to
popularity through the media. Someone who we allowed to slip through our
fingers without worry and who has turned right around and stabbed us in the
back.”
Snapping his fingers, Grindelwald prompted Samson to take a single step
forward, closing the distance between herself and the man to allow for a single
manila envelope to be exchanged between them. Credence watched the document
change hands, curiosity piqued. He tried to keep his rigid stance all the while
peering over Grindelwald's shoulder to see what was inside just as the man
slapped the envelope onto the desk, allowing it and its contents to scatter
open, photographs and documents all on one young man.
Graves Sr. leaned back in his seat, steely eyes frozen on the images. One hand
came up to scrub at his chin, but it lingered on his jaw, fingers pressed
tightly to the bone. Picquery reached a lazy hand forward to pluck one of the
documents from the tabletop, speaking in an unimpressed tone, “Newton
Scamander? The transfer from last year? You think he was the reason our school
was bombed?”
“I do not think, ma'am. I know.” Grindelwald flaunted, a grin pulling at the
corners of his mouth. “The same year Newton Scamander immigrated to America,
the same year he entered our school district and attended classes here, our
pass-fail system was breached.” Glancing at Graves Sr., Grindewald continued,
“Failing students were given passing grades while passing students were
selected to be culled. This was something that had never happened before. I
believe that Newton had caused this system failure one way or another, but
failed to ensure his own safety. When he was put on the chopping block, he
allowed the incident to explode, leaking information to the media who blew the
whole situation out of proportion.”
Baffled, Seraphina accused, “It sounds like you're accusing Newton Scamander of
terrorism...”
“I am,” Grindelwald confirmed. Graves Sr. responded with a sharp, unimpressed
scoff.
“I think you are avoiding the obvious,” Graves Sr. spoke calmly, unshaken by
Grindelwald's bold claims, “The pass-fail system malfunctioned because we
overestimated the validity of the results. By failing to review the outcome
with a human eye, we allowed ourselves to be responsible for the mistake.”
Eyeing Grindelwald coolly, Graves Sr. said plainly, “You want to avoid your
responsibility by pointing fingers.”
Grindelwald's cocky grin twisted into an embarrassed grimace, lips pressed
tight and face burning red. He tilted his chin high, trying to retain a
semblance of confidence even though he looked thoroughly embarrassed. Credence
may have gained the slightest satisfaction from the sight, but he would never
admit it.
“Superintendent Graves, sir,” Grindelwald began with a breath, the hands behind
his back twisting into shaking fists, knuckles turning white on air, “I am...
familiar with what the public believes. However, I myself will not allow such a
claim to go unproven. Our officers nor our system was the cause of the error.”
Shrugging dismissively, Graves Sr. nonchalantly included, “And nor was it the
err of the faculty or the parents that these children failed in the first
place. One cannot cure a bad seed, Mr. Grindelwald. Even after it has been
sowed and cultivated. A groomed and pampered mutt doesn't change the bitch.”
Offended and aggravated, Grindelwald asked, “What are you saying? You think the
system is faulty?”
“I'm merely implying that certain aspects need to be reevaluated,” Graves Sr.
explained carefully, looking to Seraphina who looked just as concerned as
Grindelwald looked angry, “Such as our curriculum, for starters. It's no secret
that our district, in particular, has had a higher-than-normal Thinning Rate
compared to other local districts in the past few years. And what have we done
to fix it? Made the 10-241 harder?” Shaking his head, Graves Sr. concluded,
“The public is demanding change, Mr. Grindelwald. The pass-fail system
malfunction may not have been your fault or mine, but we cannot shift the blame
now that the public has pointed the finger.”
With a tight jaw, Grindelwald declared, “I will notallow my name to be smeared
like this. The malfunction was not my fault.”
“No,” Graves Sr. agreed sarcastically, rolling his eyes in a careless moment,
“It was a teenager's fault. Isn't that right?”
Grindelwald stood frozen, tongue-tied in shock. Graves Sr. grunted as he got to
his feet, straightening out his coat with quick movements of his hand, and
Seraphina rose to meet him just as he extended his hand for her to shake.
“Thank you both for taking the time to meet me here today,” He told Seraphina
professionally, before turning to Grindelwald and again extending his hand,
“Concerns aside, I look forward to your continued compliance.”
Grindelwald's hands squeezed tighter behind his back. Credence felt himself
tensing, preparing for anything to happen in that moment. Mostly, he expected
Grindelwald to reel back and strike Graves Sr. across the face. But looking at
the man—so similar to Percival, yet so different as well—Credence wondered if
Graves Sr. would even allow Grindelwald to bring him harm. He definitely seemed
the sort of man who could defeat an opponent with nothing more than a glance.
Credence was glad this was the man Grindelwald had to bow to.
Like a vicious dog reluctantly submitting, Grindelwald bit back his snarl and
haltingly grasped Graves Sr.'s hand, giving it a single shake before releasing.
With the words thick in his throat like bile, Grindelwald said, “Thank you for
hearing me out today. We will be in touch.”
“Yes, we will.” Graves Sr. agreed, and Grindelwald's hackles raised further,
though he did nothing about it except bite his tongue. While Graves Sr.
corrected the length of his cuff, he remarked airily, “I believe it is time you
and your men scurry back to the barracks. I will expect nothing but perfection
when I arrive to reevaluate your team.”
Unable to hold himself back, Grindelwald questioned, “My team? Isn't it the
pass-fail system that needs to be reevaluated?”
“That will come too. I am more interested in what our students are interacting
with on a day-to-day basis, however.” Looking Grindelwald in the eye, Graves
Sr. clarified, “And that includes you, Mr. Grindelwald.”
Mouth hanging open wordlessly, Grindelwald struggled to ask a simple, “When?”
And though he didn't smile, Credence saw the familiar crinkling around the eyes
that Percival showed when he was pleased. Graves Sr. was smug, but he put on a
very calm front as he said ominously, “In time.”
The air between them was tense, Grindelwald's jaw flexed tight and Graves Sr.
remaining calm. Even when Grindelwald turned on his heel and marched out of the
room, Graves Sr. stared Grindelwald down, letting the weight of his eyes follow
the man out. Samson glanced at Credence, and they both followed their boss out.
They were barely exiting the hallway in the faculty building when Grindelwald
snarled out, “That bastard thinks I'm in his pocket. Thinks I'm his to
control.”
“We will secure the barracks.” Samson spoke, obviously trying to cool the hot-
tempered man guiding them, “Seal off the entrance to the Underground
temporarily while we await his reevaluation. Make sure the officers we have
topside are formidable.”
“Bah! It's too late for that,” Grindelwald argued, gesturing sharply with his
arm as if he were swatting a fly. Samson even skittered back a step, though she
hardly let her stride behind him fall. “He's suspicious. We can't allow him to
remain Superintendent for much longer.”
Credence's brow furrowed and in a meek voice, he asked, “Why is it so bad to be
reevaluated? He only wants to lower the fail-rate...”
Muttering under his breath for a moment, Grindelwald paused their walk and
turned to Credence, getting right in his masked face and asking mockingly, “And
where do you think we get our swine from?” When Credence didn't answer fast
enough, Grindelwald huffed and turned forward again, resuming their quick pace,
“If the failure rate drops, our production will as well. He has implied already
that he plans on changing the pass-fail system. If he gets that chance, we'll
lose control over everything.”
Finally, they stepped off campus and into the waiting truck, the three of them
sitting in the unusually spacious back end. “Samson, I don't care how you do
it, but you need to make sure Superintendent Graves' 'reevaluation' is
postponed for as long as possible.”
“Yes, sir.” She affirmed obediently, not a question in her mind about it.
Credence, however, was still concerned about one thing.
“And what about Newt?” He asked, shoulders hunched to his ears, “What was all
that talk about him?”
“Simply put, that brat is a thorn in my side. He's been causing undue public
attention to our officers ever since he stepped foot in America. The sooner
we're rid of him, the better.” Grindelwald explained numbly, glaring out the
back of the truck, eyes distant as he thought. “The louder he becomes, the more
curious the superintendent will be... Samson, forget what I said earlier.”
“Sir?” She questioned, brows raised in surprise.
“Make Newton a priority,” Grindelwald ordered. Unlike before, however, Samson
looked plenty confused.
“Sir...” She started hesitantly, glancing at him and Credence before offering,
“Shouldn't we be more worried about the Superintendent? He has far more power
than some immigrant.”
“Which means that 'immigrant' would be easier to take care of, wouldn't it?”
Grindelwald snarled, making Samson click her jaw shut and merely nod in
confirmation, “So then take care of it quickly so we can move on to bigger
things.”
“Yes, sir.” She uttered, subdued. She kept her head down after that, not even
stealing a glance at Credence who sat just as stiffly across from her. Now
quiet, Grindelwald retreated into his own mind, contemplating and planning.
Credence felt his heart pound, worried anew for his lovers.
When the school finally opened, only a third of the student body attended. The
faculty was required to, of course, including Newton Scamander.
He, Percival, and Theseus arrived on campus at the same time. Theseus looked
only at his brother with a smile, no matter how shaky it was. Newt replied in
kind, feeling nervous and then ashamed of feeling nervous. They were brothers,
he reminded himself, trying to be more genuine than he felt.
Percival placed a hand on the small of his back and lead him towards the
school. Theseus didn't say a word about it, and Newt was relieved.
The building Percival's class had been in was still in shambles. Currently,
construction workers covered from head to toe in safety gear were setting up
rapports around the mess while others shoveled it away. The area was cordoned
off, but even from the distance they were at, Newt and Percival were able to
watch the spectacle.
“Why are they wearing gas masks?” Newt queried, holding his IGlass to his chest
as he watched them.
“They're dust masks.” Percival corrected gently, stroking Newt's back, “So they
don't breathe in anything dangerous.”
“And why aren't we wearing any?” Newt pressed, looking at Percival this time
and seeing the man grimaced at the question.
“We'll... be inside all day. There's ventilation.” Percival pointed out,
turning his head away from the construction as well and moving on quickly. Newt
pressed his lips into a line, dissatisfied but settled. Percival was anxious to
get to class and regain a sense of order in their hectic lives. Newt couldn't
say he didn't feel the same, either.
As it was, they had been temporarily relocated to a new room in the main
building. It was smaller than what they had before, but it would have to do.
Newt no longer got a desk to himself—he merely had to pull up a chair to the
side of Percival's desk. They had single-seat desks instead of lab tables.
There weren't any sinks or first aid equipment. Percival set his briefcase down
with a frown.
“I guess we're going to be sticking strictly to theory from this point on...”
Percival muttered, looking around the shabby room. Annoyed, he clicked his
tongue and muttered, “I'll have to rework the syllabus if this is what we're
working with... Which means more homework.”
Since the students weren't yet present to express their disdain, Newt took
responsibility and promptly groaned. “More homework?” He asked, looking at
Percival with sad eyes, “That just means more work for me to grade!”
“How else am I supposed to teach them?” Percival asked with a smirk, sliding
into his own seat and turning towards Newt, “I can't have them handle dangerous
substances in a room without a sink. What if they get something on their skin?”
“Then stick with something not-so-dangerous.” Newt huffed, resting both elbows
on Percival's desk in an attempt to stealthily move closer to him, “We can
paper mache a little volcano?”
“How childish,” Percival tutted, crossing his arms but unable to wipe the grin
off his face, “Shall we also test out different toilet papers and see which
retains the most moisture?”
“Oh, or we can hatch an egg!” Newt exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands on
the tabletop. With a sudden seriousness, Newt declared, “Percival! We need to
hatch an egg!”
“This isn't biology.” Percival snorted, lifting his brows, “We are talking
about chemistry, Newton.”
Scoffing, Newt asked, “And toilet paper is more chemistry than egg-hatching?”
Percival opened his mouth to rebuke, but far before he could the door to their
classroom swung open. Both he and Newt looked up, startled at the intrusion.
Class started in fifteen minutes, no student would be so early.
But entering the room was no student. Instead, it was Roscuro, and he closed
the door behind himself quickly. Newt immediately perked up, but Percival put a
hand over the redhead's and said softly, “Newt, not here.”
“But-!” Newt began to argue, but Percival quickly silenced him with a look just
as Roscuro made his way over.
“Good morning,” Percival greeted Roscuro, tilting his head up just as the
officer ran a finger along his jaw, the leather cool on his rough skin. His
thumb soon followed the curve of Percival's bottom lip, and then he pulled away
and turned his attention to Newt.
“I'm glad to see you're okay,” Newt said kindly, turning his cheek against
Roscuro's wandering hand so he could kiss the palm of his glove. Roscuro
sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He let go of Newt long enough
to worm his way between the two of them and the desk, keeping a hand on them
both as if he were afraid either one would get up and leave. Percival comforted
him by stroking a hand thoughtlessly along Roscuro's thigh while Newt
purposefully started to pluck Roscuro's glove off. Bemused, Roscuro watched
him, allowing the redhead to slide the leather from his skin.
“Have you seen the room they gave me?” Percival began again, distracting
Roscuro with conversation, “Not even a sink. I can't do a single experiment
without a sink.”
“I told you, we can hatch an egg!” Newt chimed in, and Percival rolled his eyes
with an exaggerated huff. Roscuro's shoulder bounced, a quiet laugh coming from
him. Newt set Roscuro's glove aside and stroked the back of his hand, relishing
the skin-on-skin contact. It seemed to unwind the officer further as well.
“I hope work hasn't been too hectic,” Percival hummed, keeping Roscuro's
attention, “You must have been all over the place what with this... bomb
incident.”
Roscuro gave a small shrug, a bit dismissive. Newt's fingers began to crawl up
his wrist and arm, rolling his sleeve back inch by inch. “You didn't get hurt,
did you?” Newt asked softly, catching Roscuro's attention, “Did you get any
injuries?”
When Roscuro shook his head no, Newt merely hummed and continued to explore
what little skin he could. Roscuro's sleeve only rolled up so far, and when it
wouldn't expose any more of the man's arm, Newt huffed and tugged Roscuro
closer to him by the hips.
“Newton,” Percival tutted, already catching on to Newt's intentions. Roscuro,
however, seemed content to let Newt explore, even when the redhead began to
undo the clasps on his bulletproof vest. When the vest was opened enough, Newt
tugged the shirt underneath from where it was tucked beneath his belt, exposing
Roscuro's abdomen.
Roscuro's shoulders bounced in amusement, but he stilled Newt's hands with his
own, freezing the redhead in his journey. When Newt rose his gaze, Roscuro
squeezed his hands and shook his head.
“He's right. The bell is going to ring.” Percival hummed, arms crossed and eyes
dark as he stared Newt down, “Get your hand out from under his shirt.”
Frowning but dissuaded, Newt removed his hand from Roscuro's shirt and mumbled,
“I just wanted to make sure he was alright.”
“He just said he's fine. You don't have to undress him to prove it.” Percival
chided, pulling Roscuro back towards him by his belt buckle. Roscuro stumbled
for a moment but remained upright. Roscuro proceeded to tuck his shirt back
into his pants and buckle up his vest, only pausing when he realized he was
still missing a glove. Looking at Newt, Roscuro held his hand out wordlessly,
and Newt pouted.
“Can't I hold onto it?” Newt asked, removing the glove from his pocket but not
yet giving it up. When Roscuro's hand didn't retract, Newt instead asked, “Can
I trade you for it?”
Curious, Roscuro lowered his hand and tilted his head. Newt peered up at him
with a suddenly sly smile, bargaining, “I just want you to shake or nod your
head to what I'm going to ask.” He said, holding the glove tightly. Roscuro
tensed. Percival narrowed his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Newt opened his mouth and began to ask, “Are you or are
you not—mmph!”
“That's enough.” Percival gritted, hand clamped tight over Newt's mouth, more
than peeved. “You can rattle off your little fantasies at home but you will not
bring it here.”
“P-Percival!” Newt huffed from behind his palm, struggling to break free all
the while Roscuro watched with mild concern.
“Give him his glove back,” Percival ordered, snatching the offending article of
clothing from Newt's hand before he thrust it back towards Roscuro, who took
the glove with a hesitant grip.
“You can't stop me from asking if you want to find out!” Newt yelled, smacking
Percival's hand off of him, “You can't tell me I'm wrong if you won't let me
ask!”
“Ignore him. The concussion he got from the explosion is still causing him
confusion.” Percival told Roscuro cruelly.
“I'm not confused!” Newt huffed, jumping from his seat with fists clenched
tight, but Percival certainly didn't look impressed.
“That's enough, Newton.” Percival ordered, staring the boy down, “You and I
both know that school isn't the best place to have this discussion.”
“Where else do you plan we have it, then?” Newt rebuffed, glancing towards
Roscuro as if he would be able to provide back up. Roscuro remained silent,
however, pulling his glove back in place as he watched the two of the squabble.
The three of them jolted when the classroom door opened, Roscuro standing to
attention with something akin to a gurgle when he saw Samson step into the
room, mask removed but fully dressed in officer garb, and she looked just as
shocked as Roscuro was.
“You!” She barked, brow twitching, “What do you think you're doing here?”
Unable to respond, Roscuro stood there shaking. In the back of his throat, he
made a sort of squeaking-choking noise, and Samson grew tired of his silence.
Unbeknownst to Roscuro's enforced muteness, Samson questioned, “What's the
matter with you? I asked you a question, boy.”
Roscuro held up his hands, a silent plea for mercy, but Samson still grew irate
and reached for her nightstick. With a sharp flick, she extended the rod to its
full twenty inches and ordered, “You will speak when spoken to, brat!”
“He's not supposed to speak in public!” Newt suddenly exclaimed, grabbing
Roscuro and yanking the man behind him, protecting the officer with his own
body. Samson hesitated, frowning at the intervention, but her grip on the
nightstick relaxed. Scowling, Newt added spitefully, “As an officer, you would
know that, wouldn't you?”
Narrowing her eyes, Samson considered her next words carefully. Deciding not to
poke the sleeping bear too much, she condensed her nightstick back into its
compact size and muttered snidely, “So Grindelwald wasn't exaggerating. How...
cute.”
Even though Newt glared at her, though, she regained her calm demeanor and
instead addressed Percival, “Mr. Percival Graves, I apologize for my
intrusion.”
“An apology to my TA would be much more appreciated.” Percival sniped, trapping
Samson at another pause before she continued.
“I am Officer Samson. I was assigned to you by the Superintendent personally.”
She introduced herself, although Percival didn't seem to hear her.
“Then consider yourself unassigned. Whatever it's for, I don't need it.” He
declined, crossing his arms over his chest and reclining back in his seat, “You
can go.”
Samson blinked, trying not to be offended, and admitted, “I... don't believe
you have the authority to do that, sir. Ever since the terrorist attack,
Superintendent Graves is keen on ensuring you are protected.”
Newt blinked, and at the same time, he and Roscuro turned to look at Percival
in surprise, although the man seemed intent on subverting their gazes by
locking eyes with Samson instead.
“Tell Superintendent Graves that I am a man in my thirties. I can protect
myself.” Then, he gave a gesture to Roscuro and said, “In fact, one of your men
is already here. I don't think I need a guard, much less two.”
Frowning, Samson stood with her hands clasped before her and said, “This...
officer is hardly suitable for protecting a high-priority individual such as
yourself, Mr. Graves. I will remain as your personal guard.”
Grimacing, Newt broke into the conversation and asked, “I-I'm sorry, please
tell me I'm gathering this improperly—Are you implying the bomb was intended
for Percival?” Just as suddenly as Newt asked the question, Roscuro's hand
snatched out and grabbed Newt by the wrist, squeezing so tightly that the
redhead flinched in pain.
“Please,” Percival huffed, looking at Newt with a smile to calm him, “What's
anyone going to have against some washed-out science teacher?”
With a pinched look, Newt clicked his tongue and left Roscuro's side to slide
back into his seat beside Percival, placing a hand on the man's arm. “This is
serious,” Newt told him, genuinely concerned now, “If you're related to the
Superintendent, then-”
“Then nothing,” Percival interrupted, taking one of Newt's hands in his own and
lacing their fingers together. Samson eyed them silently while Percival
continued, “I have no power over my father and anyone with half a brain could
see that. I'm a teacher. Do you really think I'd still be teaching high-school
chemistry if I was able to have any decision-making power over my dad?”
“B-but,” Newt began to argue, scooting ever closer to him, then glancing over
his shoulder at Roscuro, standing tense and staring at Percival intently.
Percival still looked completely content, however, and he placed a reassuring
kiss on Newt's fingertips before glancing meaningfully at Roscuro.
“Besides, if you think I wanted to keep a low profile, do you really think I'd
be with you? You can't keep your pretty face out of the papers.” He flirted,
and Newt actually laughed albeit shyly. Percival let go of Newt's hand just to
stroke his cheek, then turned back to Samson and said, “So I'm alright without
you, thank you very much. You can tell my dad that he's worrying far too much.”
With a critical eye, Samson looked over Newt and Percival contemplatively
before saying, “With all due respect, I don't believe I will, Mr. Graves. I do
not plan on shadowing you physically, not at all, but I will be keeping a very
close eye on you.” With a sharp look at Newt, she added, “I will make sure you
remain safe no matter what sort of... company you keep.” And then, with a
glance at Roscuro, she finished, “And I will make sure potential threats are
taken care of, with or without your knowledge.”
With a huff, Percival muttered a tad sarcastically with a raised brow, “A
little dramatic.” When Samson shot a sharp look back at Percival, he told her
with a grimace, “Look, I know it may seem like an important job, what with it
coming from the Superintendent and all, but it's not like anyone's out for my
life. You'll realize this within a week.”
“I guess we will just wait and see, sir,” Samson grunted. When Percival still
looked displeased, Samson decided to finish the conversation there and instead
regarded Roscuro. “You.” Roscuro went stiff, head snapping to attention towards
her, “We're going to have a long discussion about... this.”
Roscuro trembled, not looking forward to whatever they would discuss, but when
she clicked her heel against the linoleum and performed a sharp about-face,
Roscuro quickly fell into step behind her, following her out of the classroom
with only a brief glance over his shoulder towards his lovers. Newt offered him
a meek wave while Percival offered him a smile, knowing he needed to reassure
him just as much as he needed to reassure Newt.
Samson led Roscuro down the empty halls until they reached the security
offices, which she promptly shoved Roscuro into as soon as the door was open.
Roscuro stumbled inside, but when he was certain it was only them in that
office, he tore off his mask, ripped open the collar to his vest, and stared
pointedly at Samson, who scowled right back at him. With a surprisingly stern
stare, Credence pointed a stiff finger at Samson, then jutted it towards the
shock collar around his neck.
“Ah,” she said, understanding crossing her eyes before she stepped forward and
yanked Credence's chin up, observing the collar, “I see Grindelwald has you
locked up in this contraption. No wonder.” With a click, the collar was sliding
off of Credence's neck, and as soon as the metal box was no longer pressed
against his throat he spoke;
“What are you doing?”
Samson blinked at Credence with a frown, shock collar still in hand, and she
said in a monotone voice, “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Superintendent Graves didn't say anything about Percival needing a bodyguard.”
Credence explained, squeezing his hands into fists and trying to keep his voice
from trembling with little success.
“Yes, well,” Samson sighed, tossing the shock collar onto the table beside the
security monitors, “Grindelwald expressed his desire to find a distraction for
the Superintendent. What better way than by putting his son out of commission?”
Clenching his jaw, Credence pointed out, “That wasn't Grindelwald's order.” At
that, Samson looked genuinely surprised. She took a moment as if waiting for
Credence to change his mind. When Credence didn't however, Samson cleared her
throat and crossed her arms.
“I made the executive decision to ignore that order,” Samson claimed, brows
raised high, “He was under intense emotional duress. We all know the
Superintendent is a more pressing matter.”
“You can't do that. If Grindelwald finds out, he'll be angry.”
“And if the Superintendent isn't made a priority, our entire existence will be
destroyed.” Samson argued, shaking her head, “You can't be so stupid that you
can't realize that.”
Biting back a few choice words, Credence struggled to insist, “Grindelwald gave
you an order. He told you to make S-Scamander a priority.” This time, Samson
gave pause. She considered Credence's words with a frown, staring at the young
man critically, almost as if she didn't believe it was him.
“Grindelwald told me you and Scamander were... intimately related,” She
mentioned, lifting a brow, “Considering I found you sneaking into the very
classroom he works out of, I thought it was a proper assessment.”
Credence went rigid. “I-I...”
“Are you telling me you would rather I focus on getting rid of your lover than
your old high school teacher?”
Credence ground his teeth, mind and heart racing. It was supposed to be an easy
answer, but the question itself was incorrect. Newt wasn't Credence's lover. He
was his partner and only one of his partners. If Credence was going to call
anyone his lover, it would undoubtedly be Percival.
In a quiet but decisive voice, Credence told Samson, “Do as Grindelwald says,
Samson.”
Haughty, Samson claimed, “You aren't my commander,” but Credence remained
stern.
“I said,” Credence repeated, taking a step towards her and staring her down
with a cold gaze, “Do. As. He. Says.”
Samson's mouth hung open, a voiceless question locked in her throat, but the
longer Credence remained stoic, the more Samson's confidence broke. Soon, her
jaw snapped shut with a click. With a touch of uncertainty, Samson relented,
“Fine. I'll focus on Scamander instead.”
“Good.” Credence mumbled, backing down now that he knew Percival was out from
under her radar. Sucking in a slow breath, he said, “That's... that's what
Grindelwald expects.”
And when Credence turned away to pull the shock collar back on himself, Samson
said coolly, “It's good you have finally realized your place.”
With his back still turned towards her, Credence closed his eyes, took a deep
breath, then slid his mask back on.
The very next day, Newt woke to an email from Greylock which he read while
brushing his teeth. Percival was taking a shower just beside him, the curtain
closed to keep the water from spilling out. When Newt reached the end, he spat
out a mouthful of toothpaste and said loud enough for the man to hear,
“Greylock is offering on-campus tours. They want me to go before the Spring
semester starts.”
Percival hummed from the other side of the curtains, the sound barely audible
over the ratatat of the water on linoleum.
“When is it?” Percival asked, pushing the shower curtain back far enough to
peer at Newt who was quickly rinsing his mouth out. When the redhead lifted his
head again, Percival bit back a laugh at the frothy line of paste on Newt's
chin.
“It's next Wednesday...” Newt mumbled, perturbed, “That's a school day. Don't
they have class?”
“Universities typically let out a little earlier than high school,” Percival
explained, getting back under the water to make sure there were no suds on his
face. When he was clear, he turned off the faucet and grabbed his towel,
wrapping it firmly around his hips. By the time he opened the curtains again,
Newt had washed his face free of dribble and was looking over the email again.
“Well we still have class,” Newt complained, brows furrowed. With a touch of
regret, Newt muttered, “I don't really need a campus tour anyways. I'll just be
doing online courses.”
Frowning, Percival mentioned, “You won't be taking online courses forever. Why
don't you go? Visit the university you'll be going to. Go see the sights! Take
a little vacation before vacation.”
Startled, Newt turned to Percival and asked, “By myself?” Percival couldn't
help but laugh.
Wrapping his arms around Newt's middle and pulling him close, Percival said
confidently, “It'll be fun, Newton. Exploring the world without an old man like
me slowing you down, doing whatever you'd like whenever you'd like.”
Still frowning, Newt settled his arms over Percival's and leaned back into his
wet chest. “It doesn't sound like fun...”
“I'm sure you'll change your mind,” Percival chuckled, kissing Newt on the
cheek, “Besides, I'm only a call away. You're going to have to give it a shot
eventually, though. You won't be able to take every class online.”
With a heavy sigh, Newt admitted, “I know. I just... Do you really think now is
a good time to go? With everything that's happened recently?”
“What 'everything?'” Percival prodded, letting Newt slide out of his grip so
that the redhead could clean off his toothbrush and set his IGlass aside.
“I just mean—the protests. The Thinning.The bomb”Newt listed, punctuating each
word with a wave of his hand, “If I go now, won't it look like I'm... Running
away?”
“Ah,” Percival sighed, standing up straighter as he watched Newt walk away.
When Newt vanished from the bathroom, Percival allowed himself a moment to dry
off, then followed him out.
Newt sat on their bed, head in his hands. Percival ignored him in favor of
pulling on some clothes, at least enough to no longer need the towel. As soon
as he felt adequately covered, he stood before Newt and waited until the young
man peeked up at him. With arms crossed, Percival spoke, “Newt...”
“I know,” Newt cut in, hiding his face again, “It's ridiculous. Theseus would
think I'm mad...”
“It's not ridiculous.” Percival rolled his eyes. When Newt didn't look back up
at him, Percival lowered himself to his knees with a tired huff. “Newt,” He
said again, putting his hands on Newt's arms, though he didn't force the man to
uncurl, “These protests mean a lot to you. It's good, being passionate about
something like this, something so selfless. I love it, your passion. Your
commitment to the students is admirable. You care so much about them, about
their future that you're willing to put yourself in the line of fire for it.”
Finally, Newt began to unravel. He looked at Percival from between his
fingertips, his cheeks red but a frown still set firmly on his face. Percival
didn't let it intimidate him. Instead, he kept eye contact with Newt and he
said to him, “But you can't put aside your own future for this. This is your
education, Newt. This is your life.”
Stroking Newt's arms, Percival asked him, “Don't you think the world would
rather hear out a man who has knowledge about what he's fighting against than
some high school graduate?”
Newt's mouth twisted, unable to disagree and unhappy for that fact. When he
gave a reluctant nod, Percival reiterated, “Go see Greylock. Take a few days to
yourself—no protests, no responsibilities, no tired old men hanging off your
arm. See what's waiting for you out there.”
Glancing between Percival's eyes, Newt asked anxiously, “Are you really sure
it's okay?”
Percival smiled at him, pulled him into a kiss, and said, “Absolutely.”
When Samson received the notification that Newt accepted the invitation to the
campus, Credence felt his stomach clench. She looked at him from the opposite
end of the barracks, but Credence quickly averted his gaze, afraid of being
confronted. He pulled on his armor piece by piece, wondering just what he might
have gotten Newt into.
 
***** Greylock *****
Chapter Summary
     Yes, she's who you think she is.
The school remained mostly empty throughout the rest of the week. Percival only
taught three out of five of his usual classes, and even then it was only to
three to eight students at most. His fifth period was supposed to have the most
attending that year, and now he only lectured to three trembling teens who were
only there because they were on the brink of failure. Percival didn't pity
them. They weren't here for his pity, they didn't need it.
Newt spent his time worrying, much to Percival's amusement. Together they had
already bought Newt plane tickets and booked a hotel room. While Percival had
suggested Newt go for the whole week, Newt decided only to stay three days.
This meant he wasn't actually going to be leaving until the day before the
tour, only to come back the day following. Percival didn't think it was going
to be enough time for Newt to get a feel of the town around Greylock, but Newt
was already anxious about being completely alone in an unfamiliar city.
“I'm going to get lost,” Newt complained over lunch that Monday, nervous about
getting on the plane the very next morning. “You're going to have to come get
me. I'm going to end up in bloody New Hampshire for all I know.”
“That's not going to happen,” Percival chuckled, finishing up his own lunch
while Newt had barely taken the first bite, so lost in thought he was.
“What if I get mugged, Percival? I won't have a way to call you!” Newt gasped,
staring wide-eyed into the distance.
“There's a phone at the hotel.” Percival hummed, trying not to smirk when Newt
gaped at him dramatically.
“You're supposed to reassure me!” Newt yelped.
“I am! All hotel rooms have phones available.” Percival grinned, and Newt
angrily kicked Percival's chair.
“About being mugged!” Newt emphasized, and Percival made a noiseless 'o' with
his mouth.
“Well, I'm sure that won't happen, Newton,” Percival said in the least
confident voice he could muster. When Newt kicked his chair again, Percival
laughed aloud. Although Newt looked positively miffed, Percival grabbed the
young man's chair and pulled him ever closer, placing a trail of soft kisses
along Newt's neck and jaw. Newt turned his head away, brows pinched and lips
pursed, but Percival didn't let it dissuade him from pushing.
“You're going to be just fine, Newton,” Percival sighed, sliding a hand onto
Newt's knee and giving it a sot squeeze, “Just take it one step at a time,
alright? You're going to have fun there.”
“Can't you come?” Newt complained, putting his hand overtop Percival's and
meeting his eye, “I'd feel better with you with me.”
“Someone has to stay and teach the students,” Percival pointed out, lifting a
brow, “Principal Picquery would murder me if I vanished for three days.”
“Your father is the Superintendent. Tell him to cover for you.” Newt suggested
brattily, and Percival laughed once more.
“You're going to be fine.” He said again, looking into Newt's eyes for a long
moment before he gave him a kiss on the mouth, “I promise.”
Newt gave a long sigh but eventually relented. He gave Percival a handful more
kisses before finally relaxing under his touch. By the time class started
again, Newt looked and felt much more confident about the upcoming trip.
When the day came to an end, Roscuro found the two of them just getting their
things together. Newt greeted him with an excited grin while Percival merely
smiled.
“I haven't seen you all week,” Newt sighed, forgoing cleaning up in order to
approach Roscuro, who welcomed the redhead with open arms, allowing him to
place a chaste kiss upon the bottom-half of Roscuro's mask. “Has it been busy?”
Roscuro shrugged his shoulders, bobbing his head in a so-so manner, and Newt
smiled at him just a little bit wider.
Percival, still standing behind his desk and packing away his things, mentioned
lightly, “Newt is going to be leaving for Massachusetts tomorrow.” Roscuro's
head jerked in surprise, looking at Percival at first, then back at Newt when
Percival only nodded.
“Greylock wants me to tour the campus,” Newt explained to the officer, giving a
meek smile, “S-since I'll be going there eventually, we decided... why not?”
When Roscuro looked once again at Percival, the older man added softly, “It'll
only be for a few days. He'll be back on Friday.” Roscuro pointed curiously
towards Percival, and the man lifted a brow before saying, “I'll be staying
here. I have work, after all.”
“I'm going by myself,” Newt said with a nervous smile, “I'll get you a
souvenir.”
Roscuro was nervous at the thought. He took Newt by the hand and gave him a
firm squeeze, one that Newt immediately returned.
“I'm nervous,” He told Roscuro in a quiet voice, as if it were a secret, “I've
never really been out on my own before. Even coming here to Ilvermorny, I've
had Theseus...”
Roscuro gave him another squeeze, then only let go for a moment so that he
could remove his lower mask. Newt's breath caught just as Roscuro pulled Newt
in for a long, deep kiss. Percival's movements slowed as he watched the two of
them kiss. As Roscuro settled his hands on Newt's hips and pulled him closer,
Newt wrapped his arms around Roscuro's neck, pressing them close enough that
Roscuro's stiff armor pressed hard against Newt's chest.
When they broke apart, Percival felt himself finally breathe, and he turned his
head down before muttering, “I keep telling him he'll be fine, but he won't
believe me, of course.”
Roscuro peeked up at Percival, but the man kept his head down, trying to keep
his hands busy, but Roscuro could see through it.
Giving Newt's nose a chaste kiss, Roscuro pulled away from the redhead and
approached the desk, leaning over it and brushing a hand against Percival's
jaw. When the man peered up, Roscuro tried to smile for him. The corners of his
lips pulled anxiously, a shy, small smile. Percival stared at him, stared at
his lips, face void of emotion while his mind whirred restlessly. He could hear
Newt whispering in his mind, 'doesn't he just feel familiar somehow' and all he
could think was, yes. He felt so familiar it hurt.
Roscuro pulled Percival in for a kiss, slow starting and luxurious. Percival's
eyes slid closed, focusing on the sensation, the slide of Roscuro's mouth
against his. He focused on the way Roscuro meekly pressed in, tongue inherently
timid until Percival greeted him with a confident swipe. Almost immediately
after, Roscuro became more greedy, more passionate, holding Percival as close
as he could with a table between them. The way he tasted, the way he felt,
Percival relaxed into it all, let it fog his mind, let it relax him.
Then, as if suddenly doused with cold water, Percival's mind snapped to
attention at the rhythmic caress Roscuro performed on the edge of his cheek. A
repeated tempo.
Tap tap stroke. Tap stroke tap. Tap tap tap. Stroke stroke stroke tap tap,
stoke stroke stroke tap tap.
U. R. S. 88.
URS 88.
Yours.
Love and Kisses.
Percival pulled away from the kiss, wide-eyed and shaken, but Roscuro merely
slipped away as if nothing had happened, making Percival wonder if he had
merely imagined the feeling on his skin. There was no way it was morse code.
There was no reason to learn such an archaic form of communication in this day
and age...
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Percival realized Roscuro had left him to
cuddle Newt once more, brushing their noses together and giving him one last
kiss before finally leaving the classroom. Percival scrubbed his hand down his
face, trying to calm himself before he made a fool of himself.
“Percival?” Newt asked, distracting the man enough from his own thoughts for
him to pay attention to the curious redhead, “Are you alright?”
No, Percival wanted to say. No, he was not alright. His mind was currently
tearing itself into two, half of him convinced that no one in the world but he
and Credence had taken the time to dig up such an old form of language, yet the
other part of him reminding the rest that Credence was dead and that morse code
wasn't that hard to learn. Anyone could learn a few taps and scrapes if they
set their mind to it, really. Just because he and Credence used it to speak at
length without uttering a single word didn't mean it belonged only to them.
Rubbing particularly hard on his cheek, Percival cleared his throat and told
Newt, “I'm fine. Just... fine.”
And although Newt didn't seem entirely convinced, he didn't push him any
further.
The very next morning, Percival dropped Newt off at the airport.
The following three days for both men would prove to be both incredibly
different yet, somehow, remarkably similar.
For Newt, it started the moment he arrived in Massachusetts.
Where he expected to merely catch a taxi to his hotel and settle in, he was
instead caught by surprise when he noticed a beautiful young woman holding a
moderately-sized sign with his name boldly printed on it. Newt felt the blood
rush from his face at the sight. The worst part was when he met eyes with the
woman and already knew that she had seen and recognized him.
He tried to hide within the crowd of disembarking passengers, squeezing himself
in the throng and even crouching down the slightest bit just so he didn't stick
out like a sore thumb. He thought about yanking his sweater over his head to
hide his obviously red hair, but that seemed a little too conspicuous.
He thought he had successfully avoided the stranger after he had reached
baggage claim with a small family of tourists and saw no sign of the woman. He
took a breath of relief, quickly located his luxurious suitcase he had borrowed
from Percival's collection, and double-checked its contents. After confirming
that nothing particularly vital had gone missing from the smaller pockets, Newt
turned away from the crawling conveyor belt only to come face-to-face with the
woman, who immediately greeted him with an exuberant, “Mr. Scamander!”
He yelped embarrassingly loud, nearly flinging his entire suitcase into the air
when he leaped backward. The woman didn't flinch or stop smiling, barely
waiting for Newt to regain his footing before saying, “It's so wonderful to
meet you! I've heard so much about you.”
“I-I..” Newt stammered, rubbing his hand in firm circles against his chest to
keep his heart from leaping right out of his ribs. To stall, Newt cleared his
throat noisily, then tried again, “That is... er... Thank you?”
Smiling wider, flashing pearly-white teeth, the woman then jutted her hand out,
a sense of grace blanketed by an awkward rustiness. Newt gaped at her hand,
startled by the gesture, but eventually took her hand. When he made a move to
shake, however, she gripped him tight and laid her other hand right on top of
his knuckles.
“Mr. Scamander, I'm delighted to be your chauffeur for your stay here in
Massachusetts. Greylock U assigned me personally to attend to your every need
and ensure your time is comfortable and worry-free.” She explained to him, eyes
sparkling like a million little diamonds. Newt tried not to grimace.
“Oh,” He grunted, trying to both discreetly and quickly remove his hand from
her grip, “That's, er...” Her hands tightened over his, trapping him there, “I-
I've already booked a hotel, you see,” He tried a bit harder to tug away, but
she only pulled him closer.
“Oh, sugar, we know!” She gasped, and this time Newt couldn't hide the cringe
at the pet name, “We've already sorted that mess out. We've reimbursed you for
the reserved room and found you a much more suitable arrangement.”
“Excuse me?” Newt blurted, eyes going wide, and the woman laughed so suddenly
that Newt jumped a second time, although her unwavering grip kept him from
going too far.
“Don't worry, sugar! Greylock U is going to take good, good care of you, trust
me.” She emphasized with a squeeze of his hand. Right after, she finally
dropped his hand only to snatch his suitcase away with barely a second to
breathe, moving so gracefully that Newt didn't even feel the luggage leave his
hand. “Now come along, Mr. Scamander! Our ride is waiting just outside.” She
said, starting forward with a confident strut.
“I-I—M-Ma'am, wait--!” Newt stuttered, scrambling to follow the surprisingly
fast-footed lady, having trouble keeping up in the crowded baggage claim area.
While she glided towards the exit with her powder-pink flared pencil skirt
bouncing with each step, Newt bumped into other patrons and tripped over
luggage. Just as she was stepping outside, Newt called out after her, “I don't
think--!”
His voice petered out the moment he saw the limousine parked right in front of
him. With his jaw hanging open and his eyes peeled wide, he watched as the
golden woman opened the door and smiled at Newt with purpose, neatly tucking
his luggage inside. With a gesture of her hand, she lured him forwards, winning
him over with a delicate, “Come on, honey. I don't bite.”
With a trembling breath, Newt slipped inside the limousine, ears aflame at the
realization that people were looking his way with interest, obviously curious
as to who he may be and why he seemed so important. The woman waited for him to
be seated fully inside before she stepped in, climbing nimbly inside even with
the skirt pinched at her knees.
Once the door was closed, the limousine pulled away from the curb and the woman
smiled brightly yet again, plucking a clipboard from one of the seats and
finally introducing as an afterthought.
“Oh!” She giggled, her pen poised over the clipboard, “Please feel free to call
me Missus Kowalski.”
Giving a shaky smile in return, Newt said, “Alright. Then you can call me Newt,
please.”
“Alright, Newt,” Missus Kowalski smiled, beginning to take down notes on her
clipboard, punctuating the drawn-out moment of silence by saying earnestly,
“It's such a pleasure to meet you, sweetie.”
“It's... nice to meet you too,” Newt said in return, squeezing his hands
together restlessly. Missus Kowalski smiled much more warmly, then resumed to
make notes on her clipboard, leaving them in silence once more. Newt fidgeted,
eyes bouncing from Missus Kowalski to the clipboard, then all around the
limousine before resting on her once more. Clearing his throat, Newt pointed
out, “That's, um... quite antiquated.” Missus Kowalski's eyes immediately
snapped up to him, face a study of quiet patience. Newt felt himself sweat and
looked away, scrambling to add on, “N-not that there's—there's anything wrong
with.... that. It's erm... unique.”
Missus Kowalski blinked twice, then pulled another kind smile before she
focused back on her notes. Newt fell into silence, embarrassed by his own
bumbling and not wanting to ruin the good mood they had.
When the silence grew too much, Newt spoke again, pointing out, “Greylock never
mentioned providing me with a guide... nor did they say they would pay for my
lodging.”
Missus Kowalski giggled, then said, “Yes, well they don't usually give students
a full ride, either, do they?” Newt flushed and Kowalski smiled wider before
setting the clipboard on her lap. “You expressed your desire to remain an
online student. While Greylock is absolutely prepared to provide you with this
service, we would much rather prefer to see you attending our campus
physically. We will not rescind our offer for providing you with full tuition,
of course. We merely want to make sure you know that there are.... options.”
Smiling weakly, Newt apologized, “Sorry, but I don't think my mind is going to
be changed. The reason why I've decided to take online classes is because I'm
currently employed. I don't want to leave my position in the middle of the
year.”
“We're aware of your position.” Missus Kowalski hummed, tapping the bottom of
the pen against her chin, “Although I wasn't aware that being a mere high
school teacher's assistant was something to put your future on hold for.”
Newt paused and stared at Missus Kowalski's feet for a long moment, put off by
how she knew his position but not entirely surprised. He knew certain
Universities liked to do digging on potential students. Considering they were
spending quite a lot on him, he knew he shouldn't assume any other treatment.
In fact, he should have been anticipating it.
Clearing his throat, Newt then insisted, “Although the position itself is not
one most people desire, I find myself inclined to keep it for personal
reasons.”
Missus Kowalski pursed her lips in consideration, then she clipped her pen into
place on the clipboard and tucked it onto her lap, hands folded daintily
overtop. Keeping her gaze level with Newt's own averted one, Missus Kowalski
said softly, “It's a person you're there for, isn't it?” Newt couldn't help but
jerk in surprise, his eyes wide and skin pale. Missus Kowalski offered a smile,
though it seemed almost pitiful, and she asked him, “Mr. Newt... Can I offer
some personal advice?”
Newt didn't speak or nod his head. He merely sat stiffly across from her in the
moving limousine, hands curled tight in the vehicle's leather upholstery.
Missus Kowalski waited for him patiently, but when it became apparent he was
not about to answer, she decided to speak her mind instead.
Gently, Missus Kowalski said, “Young men and women like you don't always
realize that you only have one chance at life. You only have one chance to make
these decisions, and that what you choose is going to have an impact on your
future.” Leaning forward, she insisted, “You have a good opportunity here,
Newt. You have a very bright and successful future being handed to you on a
silver platter. Many, many other young men and women would kill to have what
you're getting.” When Newt still wouldn't look at her, Missus Kowalski took in
a large breath, then reached forward and clasped her hand over one of his,
jolting him out of his sulk and forcing him to glance her way, even just
briefly. She sought his gaze out, and when she finally won it and kept it on
her, she intoned seriously, “Don't throw this away, Newt. This is your
future,your one chance to be successful. Don't let someone who doesn't have one
take yours away.”
Shell-shocked by her words, Newt gaped at her soundlessly. He wanted to ask if
she was deranged or if she was being paid to say all this. He wanted to ask
what, exactly, she knew about himself and Percival. Such information was so
secretive even his own brother had barely found out. If it got out...
His phone chimed with a text message. Newt moved to see who it was, but Missus
Kowalski caught his hand right before he could and stole his attention one last
time. “Focus on your future, Newton. Focus on what's right here in front of
you.” And then, with a dismissive smile, she whispered scandalously, “Make him
worry about you this time.”
Successfully enchanted, Newt's body relaxed and Missus Kowalski let go of his
hands, her smile stretching into a pleased grin. “Good,” She hummed, eyes
alight and glittering. Newt felt almost lightheaded, his pulse unhurried
despite the anxiety buzzing under his skin like dull pins. When Missus Kowalski
relaxed back in her own seat and asked, “Shall we discuss Greylock's immersive
campus?” Newt found all his muscles could allow was a meek nod.
Back at Ilvernormy, Percival sat behind his desk and stared at his phone with a
frown. His students, all three of them, were working on book material, leaving
Percival to do... nothing. Usually, he spent his time grading papers or working
on material for the next day. Ever since the bomb incident and the vastly
declined student body, however, Percival found himself completing his work far
too quickly. He was left to stare at his phone like some lovesick fool, waiting
for Newt to text him back and tell him that he landed safely and that
everything was just fine.
He didn't get a response immediately, which was fine, of course. Newt was
probably busy, anyways. Getting luggage from the baggage claim and hailing a
taxi and logging your arrival at the front desk at a hotel was time-consuming.
Newt probably didn't have any time to check his phone between all of this and
worrying his pretty little head off needlessly. Percival smirked at the
thought. Newt had been so uncertain, but Percival just knew he was going to
have a good time.
Putting his phone down, Percival decided to try and entertain himself. His
students were faithfully working away, silent in their own right while they
focused on the chemical equations and scientific methods and what have you.
Percival scrubbed his cheek, a frown appearing on his face. He forgot what he
had assigned them. It probably didn't matter all too much in the end, though.
The only students that came were potential 10-241 failures. Percival doubted
any of them would actually live to the next year.
Leaning back in his seat, Percival uncharacteristically propped his feet up on
the desk and groaned. He was old, his body didn't bend the same way it used to,
but somehow the position was far more comfortable than plain old sitting. His
muscles and tendons were stretching in a way that they weren't used to,
eliciting a pleasurable burn to wake up his limbs. Two of his students peaked
up at him, amused at his lackadaisical pose, but they resumed their work
tirelessly.
The bell rang just as Percival was getting comfortable. He huffed lazily, not
wanting to move from the position he had found himself in. His students packed
their things away quietly and headed for the door. Or rather, the two girls
left without a word. The young boy, however, ended up lingering behind.
When they were alone, the boy wandered up to Percival's desk, backpack slung
over one shoulder and water bottle in hand. He looked nervous, a little. Maybe
shy, too. Overall, though, he looked troublesome, and Percival knew he wasn't
going to like whatever was about to come out of his mouth.
Not waiting for Percival to ask him what he needed, the boy asked, “Mr. Graves,
can I ask you a question?”
Settling his hands over his stomach, Percival grunted out, “Go on.”
The boy took in a deep breath, centering himself for whatever it was he was
going to ask. He started haltingly with, “I know I haven't been doing that well
in your class. I was just...” He took another breath. The door to the classroom
clicked open. The boy said just in time with Roscuro's entrance asking, “I was
hoping you might be able to offer p-private lessons.”
Percival's brows lifted in surprise. Roscuro froze in the doorway, perhaps also
surprised. The stiffness in his muscles certainly seemed to belie it. The boy
glanced Roscuro's way fleetingly, a touch more anxious, but he stood his ground
and waited for Percival's answer.
And that answer was a very clipped, “I don't do private lessons.”
To which the boy seemed to visibly deflate at. Quickly, however, he offered a
follow-up query, “There were rumors that you were tutoring two students last
year.”
“And do you see me tutoring them this year?” Percival replied snidely, making
the boy's defenses only grow.
“N-no...”
“Exactly. I don't do private lessons.” Percival reiterated, irritated. Roscuro
slowly settled a hand on his hip, his body slowly relaxing. The boy glanced
Roscuro's way once more, then turned back to Percival.
In a much quieter voice, the boy asked, “Maybe we can t-talk about it later?”
“My answer is, and will always be, no.” Percival groused, removing his feet
from the desk and dropping them to the floor, taking on a much more serious
posture, “Be it today or tomorrow or the end of the week, I refuse to offer
private lessons.”
Disheartened, the boy retreated without another word. It burned Percival's
blood to watch him go, his irritation barely dissipating when the door to his
classroom slammed shut behind him. Roscuro eyed after the kid, staring at the
shut door, then slowly peered back at Percival even when the man was no longer
looking.
Roscuro slowly walked over to Percival, standing before his desk. He clasped
his hands meekly in front of him, fingers twiddling, body-language seeping with
self-conscious timidity. Percival glared up at him initially but forced himself
to relax. He was irritated at the student, not Roscuro. He had to remind
himself of that.
Taking in Roscuro's posture and searching for something to make himself feel
just a little more relaxed, Percival joked, “What, do you want to ask for
tutoring too?”
Roscuro fidgeted even more, feet shuffling, head bowed, and Percival felt a
familiar heat crawl up his spine at the sight. He looked Roscuro up and down,
examining him closely, and when the officer gave a shy nod, Percival couldn't
help but smirk.
“Even after hearing me turn down that other student?” Percival hummed,
delightedly slipping into the roleplay that Roscuro was so obviously
initiating. The officer seemed meek, shrugging one shoulder, turning his head
elsewhere in shame. Percival clicked his tongue snidely, then said, “If you're
so desperate, then maybe you have to find a way to convince me.”
Roscuro perked at the suggestion. When he sauntered closer, Percival couldn't
help but feel a twinge of excitement, especially when Roscuro stepped around
Percival's desk and slotted himself right between him and the furniture. He
pulled himself on top with a graceful glide, settling his boots on either side
of Percival's thighs, toes hanging onto the chair. Percival hummed at the
display, glancing between Roscuro's legs, then humming, “You've definitely got
my attention... but I'm not swayed.”
Roscuro tilted his head, amused, then he reached out and took Percival's hand,
pulling it close and settling it on his hip. With Percival's hand there,
Roscuro unclasped his vest and untucked his shirt. Percival immediately took
the silent gesture as it was, and he pushed his hand underneath Roscuro's
shirt, sliding it along his thin stomach, stroking around one pec then the
other, only lingering long enough to toy with a dusky nipple. Roscuro's body
shifted into the touch, a low sigh coming from beneath the mask.
“Still not entirely convinced,” Percival mentioned, pulling his hand away.
Roscuro huffed, tilting his head back down. When Roscuro got an idea, though,
Percival could almost feel how sly he felt, and he planted his feet back on the
floor between Percival's legs, standing upright once more.
He removed the lower half of his mask, setting it on Percival's desk. With
mouth exposed, he offered Percival a shy smile, making Percival's heart ache.
Slowly, seductively, Roscuro began to lower himself to his knees. Percival
watched him keenly, swallowing thickly the lower Roscuro dropped. As soon as
his knees hit the ground, his hands found the lap of Percival's pants and began
to hastily undo his belt.
When Percival was exposed, Roscuro deliberately licked his lips and Percival
couldn't help the grin that pulled at his lips. “This is a very interesting
argument you're posing.” He played, eyes glittering, but his cocky attitude was
sucked into his lungs with his breath as soon as Roscuro sank his head down on
him. With a shaky exhale, Percival placed a firm hand on the back of Roscuro's
head, letting his eyes slip closed as the officer slowly bobbed up and down,
lips suctioned tight and tongue curling delicately around the head.
“Mm...” Percival groaned, digging his fingers into Roscuro's hair, scratching
lovingly at his scalp the way Credence used to love. It was merely instinct
from how often he had done it before, but the delighted sigh and invigorated
movements of his tongue belied Roscuro's own enjoyment.
Roscuro was really starting to get into it and Percival was sinking into the
pleasure, so much that neither one heard the knock on the door, nor did they
realize the door opening until their interrupter blurted in horror, “What the
bloody hell--?!”
“Fuck!” Percival gasped, hunching over stiffly to try and cover his indecency
while Roscuro coughed and scrambled away, knocking the desk itself back a few
inches in his rush to get to his feet. He wiped at his mouth desperately,
trying to hide what he had been doing, but from the look on Theseus' face, it
was all for naught. Enraged and embarrassed, Percival yelled, “Are you
serious?!”
“Am I serious?!” Theseus retorted, eyes wide and face as red as his hair, “Are
you serious right now?! Newt hasn't been gone for a whole day and here you are,
getting your rocks off by a bloody glorified security guard!”
Roscuro bit down on his bottom lip, what visible part of his face flushed in
embarrassment. Percival tucked himself away, embarrassed in his own right,
although he didn't feel quite as nervous as Roscuro looked.
“It's not what you think,” Percival claimed calmly, hoping that he could de-
escalate the situation by remaining neutral himself, but his lack of reaction
only made Theseus angrier.
“Oh, so you weren't just balls deep in this bender's throat?” Theseus spat,
making Percival clench his jaw tight and glare at the man, “Did I just
hallucinate the fact that you're cheating on my brother?!”
“I'm not cheating on him,” Percival said stiffly, still trying to stay neutral,
but his own emotions were rising just as quickly. “Newt and I have a consensual
polyamorous--”
“Oh, shut up!” Theseus intervened, but Percival soldiered on regardless.
“relationship with Roscuro. He knows we do this sort of thing because he and
Roscuro do the same.”
“Don't try to lie to me!”
“I'm not lying.” Percival groused, glaring now at Theseus.
“Like my brother would be interested in something so—frivolous!” Theseus
scoffed, gesticulating wildly with his hands, “Newton might be an understanding
and heartsick fool, but that is no excuse to do this!”
“I'm not doing anything!” Percival emphasized, throwing his hands in the air,
“Call him and ask if you're so curious about your little brother's sex life!
You already thought he wouldn't have been messing around with a man like me,
what else are you wrong about?”
“Just because you seduced an innocent—and might I point out illegal in the
United States—minor into this sick 'consensual relationship' doesn't mean he
would have done so willingly!” Theseus blurted, providing visible air-quotes
with a touch of sarcasm. “You're just a perverted old man who grabbed the
easiest victim!”
“Newt is not a victim!” Percival yelled, unable to keep the rage in check as he
slammed a fist on the table and got to his feet, “He's always had a choice in
this relationship, even from the start! His god damned comfort has been the top
priority, before my own, even before--!” He cut himself off, rage overwhelmed
with a sudden wave of grief and guilt, but he had a point to make. With a tight
throat, he uttered, “Even before Credence.”
“Credence?” Theseus huffed, confused for a long moment before recalling the
perished senior from the year before, “What does he have to do with this?!
Don't tell me—you've been cheating on him this whole time!”
Cruelly, Percival growled, “You don't even know the shit I sacrificed for your
god damned brother.”
“Oh please! Forty years old with a stable job and a house of your own and
you've made sacrifices for an eighteen-year-old? Did you give him an A-minus
instead of a B-plus?” Theseus snidely suggested, stepping up to Percival,
uncaring that he was getting in the man's face. Roscuro fidgeted where he
stood, unable to chime in or break them apart. In fact, he was afraid to even
try. Both men looked thirsty for blood and he didn't want to accidentally make
himself their target.
“I killed my lover for your god damned brother!” Percival absolutely yelled,
fists clenched, body stiff, trembling in anger, “Newt would have been executed
last year if I didn't leak the true grades that year!” Roscuro's head snapped
towards Percival, mouth agape. Theseus blinked in surprise, speechless. “I
knowingly sent Credence to the grave just for him!”
“You what?” A third, unanticipated voice blurted, only to be followed
immediately by a loud buzz and gagging. Both Percival and Theseus jerked their
heads towards the now convulsing Roscuro, Theseus merely surprised, but
Percival absolutely shell-shocked.
“Bloody hell--” Theseus blurted as soon as the convulsions stopped and Roscuro
dropped to his knees. He approached Roscuro with two large steps, squatting
down beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder, “What was that?!” He
huffed, tilting Roscuro's head up by the chin, trying to look through his mask
and into his eyes, but Roscuro pushed his hand away from him with an exhausted
grunt.
As he propped himself back on his shaking legs, Percival stuttered brokenly,
“I—I... You...”
Roscuro's teeth were grinding. He stared at Percival for just a few moments,
but when Percival couldn't even string together a sentence, he stormed out of
there, throwing the classroom door open with so much raw anger that the
hydraulics jammed it halfway open. Still, Roscuro got away in less than three
seconds, vanishing down the hall without another word. Percival was left
staring after him, heart frozen in his chest and mind burnt out.
Silence descended on the two teachers as they were left alone in the classroom.
Theseus slowly rose to his feet. Percival felt his brain doing the equivalent
of restarting, checking himself, his surroundings, ensuring he wasn't dreaming
or hallucinating. With Roscuro's escape, however, his mind was already creating
new memories and explanations, trying to rationalize what Percival couldn't
otherwise believe.
And then, just to pour salt in the wounds, Theseus approached Percival, pulled
him around, and said, “I don't care what you believe you and Newt agreed on; As
soon as he comes back, he's coming back home. You're not going to lay another
finger on him.”
Feeling only partially present, Percival whispered, “You can't do that to him.
He won't stay.”
“He will as soon as he finds out the truth.” Theseus threatened, only to
promptly shove past Percival and leave the room as well. When the door shut for
the second time, Percival lowered his gaze, then slowly collapsed back into his
chair, entire body numb.
He sounded just like Credence. There was no way it was. Percival was just
tired. Roscuro's voice was just... rough. And foreign. Percival had never heard
it before. No matter what he thought he heard, he had never heard Roscuro's
voice before.
Newt's incessant arguments were suddenly playing over in his mind, but Percival
couldn't accept it. He felt physically ill even considering it. Especially
because he had just admitted to the hand he had in Credence's death.
“Oh, God...” Percival breathed shallowly, feeling like he was going to
simultaneously vomit and fall apart. Never had Percival felt so lost and
confused and... scared.
Feeling as though he could do nothing else, Percival grabbed his phone and
tried to call Newt. The phone rang twice before he went straight to voicemail.
Percival sucked in a sharp breath as Newt's pre-recorded voice droned on about
how he's busy and to leave a message. He ran his hands through his hair,
feeling his nails catch on the gelled knots, and he slammed the end call button
with a sudden fury. Planting both elbows firmly on the table, Percival pressed
his thumbs into the space between his brows, breathing noisily through his
mouth, trying to just—just--he didn't know. He needed to just stop thinking.
Throwing himself back against his chair, Percival ran his hands through his
hair a second time, then a third, feeling as if his entire body was trying to
jump-start itself, nerves bursting with stinging energy only to simmer out in
waves, leaving him exhausted and numb and empty. He was being scorched from the
inside and there wasn't a way to just turn it off.
The absolute last thing he needed was another damned visitor, but when he heard
another knock on his door, he felt like he might just explode. He wanted to
yell at whoever it was to just go away. He didn't want to say a word. He felt
like if he tried to speak he would just throw up. When the door began to open,
Percival squeezed his eyes shut, head already throbbing with the noise he knew
was coming.
“Mr. Graves?” Came a woman's voice this time, and Percival's eyes popped open,
locking onto the meek-looking brunette standing in his doorway. He recognized
her as a faculty member, but it took him an embarrassingly long moment to
remember her as Ms. Goldstein, a U.S. History teacher. He didn't greet her,
didn't ask what she needed, but she didn't need him to before she mentioned, “I
thought I heard yelling... Is everything okay?”
Percival didn't know how to answer. Ms. Goldstein was in no way an acquaintance
with Percival, much less a friend. There was no way Percival was going to open
up to her.
“Everything's fine,” He said, perhaps a bit breathlessly, perhaps a bit
strained. Ms. Goldstein continued to look concerned, but she didn't argue. She
didn't leave either, however, which definitely was not the outcome Percival
wanted.
He was torn between yelling at her to leave and merely leaving himself, but he
didn't get to decide, in the end. Ms. Goldstein made the first, and
subsequently final, move. She took a step into Percival's classroom, paused in
a moment of hesitation, then offered, “If you ever need someone to talk to...”
Closing his eyes again, Percival remarked, “Thank you, Goldstein.”
Ms. Goldstein anxiously rubbed her hands together, hesitated a moment longer,
but eventually bowed out of the room, heels clicking as she exited.
It wasn't anything fulfilling or a cure, but Goldstein had successfully
distracted Percival enough to allow the anxiety to pass. The man took a deep
breath, regained his bearings, and prepared for the remainder of the day. He
would get through it even if he had to push more pressing concerns to the back
of his head for the time being.
Back in Massachusetts, Newt tucked his phone into his back pocket after turning
the device on silent. Percival would probably be upset, but Newt wouldn't be
able to help it at this point. Missus Kowalski was already leading him around
the campus, describing the lively atmosphere, complimenting the student body
and the faculty, even bringing Newt's attention to the many amenities they
offered their students—so long as they kept their grades in check, that is.
In a word, Newt was awestruck. The campus had a lot more to offer than mere
online classes, which Newt had already known, of course, he just didn't expect
it to be this much more. The city around them was beautiful, the people
attending campus intelligent and open-minded. The professors inspired a desire
for knowledge so intense that Newt almost wanted to sit in a lecture and start
taking notes. If Missus Kowalski hadn't pulled him away by the arm, he was
almost certain he would have tried.
“Of course, Greylock isn't all just lectures and learning,” Missus Kowalski
grinned, leading Newton through the intricate hallways and down stairways, “As
a top-priority student, you would be given on-campus living quarters, twenty-
four access to the library and its contents, twenty-four access to the computer
laboratory equipped with programs such as Photoshop, Indesign, Illustrator,
Aftereffects, Maya, and so on. You will be given the first pick of classes at
the start of each semester. You will be given priority over other students; if
you attempt to enroll in a full class, you will be given the seat of a student
with a lower GPA. You will be given your textbooks a week in advance from the
other students in order to ensure you receive the necessary material...” With a
flourish she turned towards Newt and gave a wink, saying reassuringly, “As you
can see, we take very good care of our students here.”
“Y-yeah,” Newt muttered, still following her along the hallways, trying to
absorb everything around him while still keeping up with her. For a woman in a
tight pink skirt and high-heels, she moved as fast as night.
“And, needless to say, such amenities would be impossible to provide if you
remain an online student,” She continued to point out, turning back around so
she walked forward, golden curls a-flounce, “But Greylock isn't the only thing
you'll gain if you do become a campus-going student.”
With both hands, she pushed open the doors she was headed towards, emitting
them outside of the building and face-to-face with the bustling city Greylock
resided in. It was supposedly a small town, according to Missus Kowalski,
thriving almost entirely on college students and their families. It was only
midday and the streets were abuzz with activity. Cars were parked up and down
the roads, but it seemed like most preferred to walk to where they needed to
go.
Everywhere Newt looked, there were people arm-in-arm, groups of young men and
women chatting delightedly, not a single person on their own. They were all so
welcoming, all so charismatic, and Newt...
Newt turned away from the glamour and instead asked Missus Kowalski, “I think
I'd rather see the library, honestly.”
“Pardon?” She blurted, surprised and perhaps a touch disappointed. Spinning
around, she saw Newt already heading back inside, curious eyes searching. This
time, Missus Kowalski had to chase after him, a little dumbstruck and asking,
“You don't want to see what's around town? Mingle with your contemporaries?
Discover what the nightlife might bring?”
“I'm here to learn, Missus Kowalski. I'd rather find out what learning I can do
here.” Newt explained a bit blasé, shrugging an indifferent shoulder and
continuing on his way.
Still trailing behind him, Missus Kowalski said, “Well, you never know who you
might meet around the town! Maybe an interesting young man or woman? Like-
minded acquaintances? Maybe even enjoy the frivolities of the younger
generation?”
Newt cast her a curious glance before pointing out, “That's not necessary...”
“Why does it have to be necessary?” Missus Kowalski pushed, grabbing Newt by
the arm to keep him from walking any further, “You're a young, energetic man,
Newton. You need to enjoy your life to the fullest. Besides, what do you plan
to do after class or during the break if not explore the city, hmm?”
“Study?” Newt suggested flatly, but such an answer was no good for Missus
Kowalski.
“You have twenty-four access to the library and the computer lab. You'll end up
needing time away from studying too.” She smiled, pulling Newton along, “At
least let me take you on a short walk around? Let you get used to the buildings
here and there?”
“The city wasn't mentioned on the tour...” Newt mumbled, but Missus Kowalski
merely pulled him more and more, bringing him back towards the exit.
“As I've pointed out multiple times already, Newt, you're a very important
person to Greylock,” Missus Kowalski smiled, linking their arms together and
walking him off campus, “And we want to make sure that you are given the proper
tour.”
 
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