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Leta teaches Newt that people can hurt you.

They can seem so kind and they can make you love them. They can seem to truly love you in return. And then they can hurt you, use you, and walk away.

They can walk away without ever looking back.

It was better to be alone in the end.

 

His mother and father are so disappointed. They look at him with a heavy gaze that makes him duck his head. He can’t look at them, can’t meet their eyes anymore. He stops being able to look at anyone, so twisted with shame.

Hogwarts sends him home and his parents arrange for tutors so he can finish his education. He shuts himself in the manor and focuses on his work, he keeps his head down and he tries not to think about anything else.

“Is it true Newt? Did you intentionally let someone get hurt, let one of your pets hurt someone?” Theseus asks when he comes to visit. He’s busy training to be an auror now, someone their parents can be proud of. Newt has always looked up to him, adored his big brother and he can’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes as well.

A warm hand runs through his hair and Theseus leans in to hug him with one arm, a firm and almost painful hold. “I don’t believe it,” he hisses and Newt jerks to stare at his brother.

Theseus looks back with a fierce air. “I know you, you might make mistakes but you would never knowingly threaten someone, not in a way you didn’t think you couldn’t handle.”

Newt stares at him too long, eyes burning as he drops his head and covers his mouth to muffle his sobs. Theseus hugs him tightly throughout it.

People still treat him differently, his mother’s assistants and people around the manor, murmuring after him wherever he goes.

Newt spends all his time with the Hippogriffs eventually. They have no dark looks or soft whispers, they have no judgment. So he works with them on his own.

It becomes the only good thing he has. Theseus goes back to his training and Newt spends his days in closed rooms with tutors. The Hippogriffs are his only respite.

He walks the younger ones on their leads and helps break them into their saddles. He combs them out and makes sure they are as healthy as can be.

Him mother senses the importance of it and she lets him be.

Apollo is a young male, he’s still growing but he will be massive one day, a great powerful creature. But before that he is the Hippogriff with the broken leg, trapped in his stall. He grows weak and when it seems like he won’t survive Newt sits with him all day and night, petting him and trying to feed him.

Apollo sleeps and sighs but he takes bits of meat and sips of water.

He survives.

Newt is ecstatic, something settles in him then, a great blinding joy at helping the creature heal. Each day he visits Apollo and they work a bit more, getting him up on his feet and then moving around. His health returns and he returns to his flock, head high and proud.

“He’s very sweet on you,” Newt’s mother observes with a kind smile, watching Apollo groom Newt’s hair over the fence while the other Hippogriffs wander about.

“You’ll have to make sure to shoo him away for the mating season.”

Newt blinked, patting Apollo’s neck.

“Why?”

“They can get confused sometimes, try to court other species,” his mother explains and Newt huffs out a laugh.

“I’m not some pretty Hippogriff female,” he scolds Apollo and the beast screeches at his tone, forcing a smile from him.

Newt doesn’t mean for it to sink in but it does. His mother’s comment lingers and he wonders what it would be like to be the mate of a Hippogriff. They were very loyal beasts after all, they would never use him, break some part inside him.

Apollo only made it worse, when Newt came around he started puffing up, not in aggression but to show off. He’d raise his head and prance and strut until Newt had to hide his laughter.

The Hippogriff saved him food as well, offering the best bits of his dinner, ferret stomach linings and hearts. When he would see Newt he’d puff up, do his dance and then end it all by picking up a wet bit of Ferret guts and offering it out.

Newt would take it, feeling bad for the poor confused male.

“You really must find a proper mate,” he tells him quietly, smiling as he rubs Apollo’s neck.

He comes to the stables alone usually, avoiding everyone else.

A low screeching catches his attentions and he leaves Apollo’s stall to wander after the noise.

It turns out to be a male Hippogriff, head ducked low and bobbing at a female. He’s kicking up dirt with his front claws and his phallus hangs under him, shining as it drips eagerly.

Newt’s face flushes and he knows he should leave the mating pair but with no one around, he lets his gaze drift back.

The male gives his grumbling cry again and approaches the female. Her tail swings and then lifts and the male is eagerly jumping at her. It startles Newt to see the powerful beasts coming together.

The Hippogiff’s phallus jerks up in the air and it splatters seed as he fumbles to line up.

Newt can see when he does, sudden deep lunges directly into the female. The male’s muscles work to pump in further and the female stands still, allowing it.

It’s only a few lingering moments and then the male is pulling off and jumping down.

His phallus comes free with a wet sound, white semen spurting still as it settles on the ground. Both creatures walk off, leaving Newt pressed to the stall gate on the inside watching them leave into the open pastures.

When Newt realizes he has an erection he ducks away, pressing the palm of his hand against it until it hurts, willing it to go away.

Apollo croons at him and Newt runs away, rushing across the lawns and into the house, up to his own room.

Red faced and panting he looks around, trying to think of a book to read or something to do. His hands tremble and he closes his eyes, seeing the Hippogriff’s long phallus again. With a terrible shame, he shoves a hand down his pants and touches himself. Quivering fingers wrap around his prick and he strokes only a few times and then he’s messing himself, sticky warm seed spurting as he muffles his cry with his other hand.

Shaking, he stumbles to his bed and sinks down beside it onto the floor, wondering why he can’t just be a normal boy.

It goes on for days, a deprived struggle within himself. Newt spends his days on his school work and his evening working in the stables until his hands are numb and body exhausted. Despite his best efforts the lustful thoughts do not leave him. The Hippogriffs are in season and Newt has witnessed multiple matings.

Curled up in his room, under his blankets in the dark he touches himself, hand gliding along his prick as he presses his face into his pillow to muffle his moans. Wet fingers drift passed his cock and down to his hole. He lifts his thigh and shivers, rubbing the tips of fingers there. It’s such a small tiny place, he can’t imagine something as large as his own cock much less a Hippogriff fitting inside him. But the image arises just the same, the thinks of Apollo, such a handsome creature, he thinks of his lunging into Newt, filling him up to be bred. Newt thinks of the beast over him and he comes every time.

There’s no one to talk to about it, there’s no one to distract himself with, no girl to try and kiss or even another boy. It’s a weak excuse and Newt knows it.

He sneaks some cooking oil from the kitchens and with the slippery fluid he manages three fingers into himself. Newt had expected it to hurt, to be a strange sensation.

What he hadn’t expected was for it to feel so good. It burns to open himself wide but it also makes the sensations more intense. Newt is working hard in his studies, he has his wand while the tutors stay in the manor. Red faced with shame he transfigures an old wood carving in his room into a long phallic shape.

He buries his face in his pillow that night, arse up in the air as he sobs. It’s hard to keep the magic going but he manages too, using it to pump the carving into his body over and over, pushing it deeper as the oil makes slick sounds. Newt comes four times that night.

If anyone catches on to what he’s doing in his room at night they don’t mention anything. His days continue on and each night Newt makes the carving a big bigger, more thicker and touch longer. His poor backside aches some morning but he cannot stop himself, it’s become a terrible fixation. His transfiguration schoolwork improves and his tutor comments that he can hold his spells far longer.

 

“Are you alright?” Newt asks one of his mother’s assistants, a younger woman who has offered Newt a few smiles over the last few months. She’s down on a knee, pressing a hand to her thigh while a rowdy Hippogriff paces in its stall beside her.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, rubbing her thigh but there is no visible damage. “Caught a bit of a kick, just a graze though.”

Newt winces, eyeing the Hippogriffs powerful hind legs.

“Did you need help?” He offers without thinking.

“No,” she replied too fast, a sudden word that makes him start. Her face twists with a touch of embarrassment but she shakes her head. “I’m fine, thank you,” she tells him but it’s clearly forced.

Newt knows what they’re saying about him, stories that he let magical creatures hurt other people, that he did it on purpose, for fun.

It’s foolish to care, he barely knows the woman, but he feels his eyes burn suddenly, overwhelmed.

Nodding his head, he avoids her gaze, ducking his head and hurrying over to Apollo’s stall.

The Hippogriff immediately puffs up and prances for him, moving gracefully and ending it with a croon, hurrying to offer Newt a bit of gore. He takes it in his bare hand and laughs, smiling weakly at the Hippogriff as it flutters around him, pulling gently at his hair.

It’s for the best, he thinks. Beasts are easier to understand, they might lash out but they do it for a reason, they’re just scared or confused. They don’t do it because they can, because they believe terrible things about you without ever trying to know the truth.

Apollo tugs his hair and Newt smiles up at him, feeling his heart soar in gratitude.

He can trust creatures.

 

It’s only a few days after that when Newt sneaks to the stables at night. They’re empty of people with wards placed up for protection. Newt passes through them easily and he knows his mum won’t be worried. He’s visited in the evening before, bringing a book and reading among the creatures that accept him far more than his own kind.

Tonight is different.

Newt’s heart is in his throat, fear and excitement vying for control.

For an hour he’d worked his body open, slicking himself and pushing the carving as deep as he could.

Before he had left the school, everyone had been preoccupied with this. Endless chatter about who was dating who, which girl had let which boy put his hands up her skirt. Who was a virgin and who was not.

Newt padded down the stables and Apollo’s head hung over the stall door to greet him. His Hippogriff puffed up and went through the routine, Newt watching with a fond smile. He took the meat and when he opened the stall he dropped it on the floor before pretending to eat it from his hand. Apollo preened, Newt had never eaten his offerings.

He slipped into the stall, mindful of Apollo’s size. With trembling fingers he undid his trousers and slipped them free. Leaving them on the door.

Apollo watched everything curiously as Newt stood in his shirt and peered back at him. With a nervous edge he stepped closer to Apollo, walking alongside him. He pressed his shoulder to Apollo’s side and dragged it along his body, mimicking a receptive female.

The male reacted right away, twisting eagerly and crooning at Newt, courting and rubbing against Newt, nuzzling his hair.

Newt could see in the faint light when Apollo’s phallus dropped down, sliding from his body and filling out. Shivering he rubbed his face and neck to Apollo’s chest, pressing against him harder and circling.

When Apollo jumped a bit Newt leaned against the gate. It was a half door and the top was opened. Newt leaned his arms and brow against the lower part and Apollo shifted behind him.  

The door swung in place when the Hippogriffs front claws landed on it, the beast using it to support its massive weight. Newt was under him, trembling.

He jerked when he felt Apollo’s cock on his thigh, it was warm and sticky, the feel of it making him whimper. Stumbling a bit he arched his back out more, offering himself to Apollo, the beast’s heaving chest and underbelly rubbing along his back as the beast thrust.  

Apollo shoved higher and the flared head of his cock rubbed along Newt’s backside, leaving a wet trail. He pushed again and it lined up, a sudden hot pressure against Newt’s hole.

Part of him wanted to yank away but more wanted to stay.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, muffling his yell Apollo shoved into him. One long wet motion and Newt had more than ever before inside him. He arched up, standing on the tips of his toes as Apollo rode him. Quick lunges designed to bury as deep as he could.

Newt felt tears run down his face as he rocked back, letting more and more slip in.

His abdomen hurt and Newt pressed a hand to it. He choked out a moan when he felt Apollo inside him, a bump moving inside him as the beast thrust.

The Hippogriff yanked off with a sudden pull and Newt cried out, too loud, as he came. His legs gave out as Apollo moved away and Newt slumped against the stall door, sliding down into the hay.

Panting for air without even knowing when he lost his breath, Newt turned to lean his back on the door and he shivered as he felt a hot seep between his thighs. Hippogriff semen poured from him, far more than his own body had ever produced. It came in great heaps and Newt trembled as he scooped his fingers through the mess, pushing it back into his hole. It felt pulled too wide, as if it was gaping. Newt’s fingers explored it as he trembled and cried, sobbing silently as he touched himself and came again. Apollo nuzzling his hair affectionately the entire time.

Newt spent hours after cleaning the stall, wiping away every hint of what had happened. He snuck back into the house while it was still dark and quietly showered, hay was in his hair and dirt and semen on his thighs. He reeked of Hippogriff as well, a heavy musk that clung to his skin.

The sun was just beginning to shine in his window as he laid down to sleep, idly twirling a stray Hippogriff feather in his fingers.

 

With great care not to be caught, Newt mated with Apollo for the rest of the mating season.

In the dark stable he leaned up against the stall door, sometimes biting his belt between his teeth as Apollo lunged into him, his massive length burying so deep inside him. If Newt dropped his head to his chin and watched, he could see it, a little push from the inside of his body when Apollo slammed in.

Newt drank healing potions, claiming he was having headaches. His mother fretted over him, tipping his chin to inspect him and then insisting he needed more sleep.

“Are you alright love?” She asked him, that disappointed air about her finally fading away. The more time that passed since he was expelled the easier it seemed, but he still struggled to look at their eyes, preferring to watch the ground in front of him, ready for the next misstep.

“I’m fine mum,” he lied. She nodded her head and went about her day. Newt learned that people didn’t exactly want the truth, they just wanted reassurance. It was easier to simply let them hear what they wanted then to trouble them with the truth. So he lied more and more, spinning whatever answer was expected. It made things far easier.

As spring faded and summer began, Newt learned that his professor Albus Dumbledore had fought his expulsion from Hogwarts, insisting he believes Newt would never knowingly endanger anyone. The professor gathered enough support to overturn the decision and Newt was to return to school in the fall.

His parents were delighted and so Newt played along smiling when all he wanted was to be left with the Hippogriff flocks. But he knew better than to think it would work out like that.

So he returned to the school and studied furiously. The students were weary of him, whispers following all over again but Newt just plastered a smile and never met anyone’s eyes. He did his work and he caused no fuss, he avoids anywhere she might be with a frantic care. Eventually he faded into the background and was left on his own. He spent his time on the grounds, chasing nifflers and studying dragons and phoenixes in his free time. Magical beasts were truly amazing, gifted with their own wild magic and yet so overlooked somehow.

Professor Dumbledore would come around and chat with him, gently suggesting he attend more student events and join clubs. Newt smiled and promised to think about it, lying easily as he waited for the moment when he could leave the castle and it’s crowds and find his true friends among the creatures.

Newt doesn’t take any lovers among them; he knows that people won’t understand if they found out. Beasts are lesser to everyone else, something to be used and discarded. Newt doesn’t want to cause any more trouble, he can’t bare his parent's sad gazes again.

Most importantly, none of the creatures take that sort of interest in him. Newt would never try to force it either, content to have friends among the magic creatures and learn all he can about them. His mother writes next spring and tells him Apollo has found a mate and sired a little one. Newt is nothing but happy, he can’t provide such things for the Hippogriff and he always knew Apollo would need to mate properly. It’s not his intention to harm any creature, he only wants to help them in any way he can.

 

He finishes his schooling and is barely home when the war begins.

 

Theseus leaves to go fight in the face of new laws decreeing no wizard may be involved.

His mother weeps and his father looks haunted but proud.

They both refuse to allow Newt to go as well.

“I couldn’t bear it,” his mum tells him, tears in her eyes as she clutches his hand. “I just couldn’t Newt. You stay here my dear, it’s safe here.”

Newt knows she’s not just talking about the war.

Theseus has been vocal with his insistence the Newt was not at fault for the accident that happened at Hogwarts, he tells Newt that he must not let people use him, he must be careful. Their parents eventually believe Theseus and become protective over him, frowning at every person who talks to him, weary that he might be led astray. Eventually, Newt just stops speaking to people if he can help it, following behind his family when they go out like a quiet shadow, eyes down.

His mum would have him live his entire life like that, tucked away safe.

Newt misses the creatures of Hogwarts, he missed the Forbidden forest and all the beauty within it. Knowledge was a form of power, professor Dumbledore often said and Newt did believe that. He wanted to write a book one day, filled with the truth about creatures. Everything he found in the current libraries was ancient and utterly outdated, painting every creature as a deadly beast just waiting for the chance to strike.

None of that can happen if he stays with his parents, they mean well and are coming from a place of love, but they will smother him without ever knowing it.

So Newt writes a letter with a proper apology and leaves for the war front.

 

Theseus is both elated and terrified to see him. He hugs Newt tight for a long time, his strong brother still in a way that whispers of pain beyond physical.

“The front lines is no place for you,” Theseus tells him and Newt fears he will have to contend with his brother as well but Theseus surprises him.

“A group of dragon trainers is recruiting, they need to help calm the beasts in the mountains on the east front, the war is stirring them up and causing trouble. They hope to train them and use them to help in the war.”

Theseus looks at Newt and he sees more than a broken boy to be used. Newt can never truly put into words how grateful he is, that his brother would believe in him.

Theseus clamps a hand on Newt’s neck and knocks their heads together lightly.

“Be safe, write often,” he demands and Newt nods.

“You as well.”

 

Dragon training is exhilarating and utterly violent. Newt’s arm is broken in his first week and he gains a long gash that will scar from his hip to his knee during his second.

“You must dominate them!” The lead trainer, Shepherd, hollers at them, Newt and six other trainees. “They are beasts and you are wizards, show them who is dominant.”

The Ironbelly dragons are easy to anger and they blow an inferno of fire at the slightest provocation. Newt spends his evenings with the tame dragons, walking among them as the other wizards group together in the camps. He has made sort of friends here, people who don’t know his past and are willing to see him for who he is now, strange and awkward but trying his best. But Newt will never be domineering and Shepherd doesn’t think he has the right behavior for dragon training.

Newt can’t disagree.

Nothing in him wants to tame a dragon, he doesn’t want to tame any beast. Better they be free and wild as they were meant to be.

He learns how to care for them though, when they return riddled with muggle bullets or burns and cuts from curses he runs with the others, hot blood seeping down his arms as he presses compression bandages to the wounds. He gets scratched and bitten for it but the dragons are scared, they’re not intentionally hurting him.

 

Newt goes out to help trap only once.

They have to capture the dragons in order to tame them and so traps are laid along the mountains. Newt and two of the other trainees follow a group of seasoned trainers listening to them explain the methods.

They all press low to the dirt, a fat old sheep tied to a post in the field as a lure.

A great Ironbelly comes to take it, it’s wings spread out wide as it gracefully swoops in, intent on its meal. Newt’s breath catches as he lies in the dirt, watching with wide eyes. It’s only just nightfall, the last rays of the sun catching on the magnificent creature as in lands. Its long claws killed the sheep neatly and it lifts its wings to take off again.

The magic springs though, casting nets over it and the dragon roars in anger and fear.

The dragon trainers move, keeping a far distance as the beast spits fire and fights the nets violently. Its one wing is twisted awkwardly and not netted properly, it’s going to break it if it keeps thrashing.

Newt doesn’t think about it.

He leaves his spot and runs out, ignoring the calls of his superiors. Shepherd casts a spell to catch him but Newt avoids it.

When the dragon twists it’s great head to snarl at him Newt drops his gaze in submission. He falls down to his knees and everything in him wants only to help. His magic courses through him and Newt trembles as the dragon roars at him, it’s breath hot and smothering, his hair and clothing wiping in the force of it.

If it breathes fire he will be dead.

Newt remains with his eyes down, heart pounding as the dragon before him struggles, close enough to bite him in half if it wants.

He can feel it’s powerful gaze and he can hear the others coming up slowly behind him.

Newt buries his fingers in the grass, casting out his power and feeling. Unlike Theseus, Newt’s never been able to intentionally cast wandless magic. But he pours all he can into it now, reaching with more desperation than he has ever had. The spikes holding the nets release, the nets themselves tear and the dragon’s wings spring free.

It rears onto its legs and lets out a great plume of fire. The heat of it burns Newt’s hair, even as the beast breathes it without aiming it at him. He can hear the other wizards cursing and throwing up defensive spells behind him.

The dragon looks down at him, blood red eyes peering and Newt dares to meet them only for a second. It feels far longer somehow, as the astonishing creature looks at him and Newt’s heart pounds.

With another earth-shaking roar, the dragon lifts into the air, wings flapping. Newt can feel a tear running down his face, nothing in his life has been more remarkable to him. The dragon takes to the air and is gone in seconds.

“You’re bloody mad,” Shepherd shouts at him when he reached Newt but there is a new look in his eyes. It’s hard to explain what it is exactly, a mix of curiously and maybe even a touch of esteem.

The camp teases him when they return, calling him wild and insane. But they lack malice and Newt just nods his head, smiling awkwardly to the ground.

Shepherd pulls him from the rest of the trainees the next day, sending him to the caves with Charles, a gruff man who works with herding the dragons.

“I heard about your little stunt, let me tell you, if you do that again you’ll be dead for certain,” is how he greets Newt, eyes on the dragon is currently stitching up. He then explains all the reasons why Newt would die, that the dragons will always attack when afraid, that they were so powerful they could kill him without even knowing it, that standing in front of a wild dragon was just, in general, a stupid thing to do.

Newt doesn’t know what the man thinks of him, but Charles is very knowledgeable about dragons so he listens attentively, taking notes in his little journal. Each day they go out with tame dragons and on brooms in order to push the wild ones back, forcing them up into the mountains where they will be safe as the war rages.

While he had tried, Newt knows he hesitated while he was learning to tame dragons, not truly believing in it. This is different. This is protecting the creatures, keeping them safe from human’s violence.

Newt had only seen the war fields for a day, when he went to Theseus, but they remained in his nightmares months after. Endless dead bodies in heaps and scattered throughout the field. Limbs hanging on wire fences and gore scattered in the dirt. The smell of gunpowder and rot. The screams and moans of the dying all around. He can’t fathom killing so viciously, fighting each other and taking life in such a terrible way. Newt knows why the war is raging, he understands the politics and intellectual aspects. But to see it, to stand in the carnage he doesn’t understand war at all, doesn’t want too.

Theseus writes sporadically when he can, pages of letters or two sentences, he sends them to Newt and Newt writes novels in turn. He details all of his experiences and makes up ridiculous stories, imagining his bother’s laughter. Theseus always asks for more, wanting distractions so Newt does his best to give them. He sits in his little cot in the evening writing all over the paper until every inch is covered.

“Who are you writing to?” Thomas is only a few years older then Newt, he works closely with Charles and flies with a great dragon called Mildred. Newt has admired his skill with the dragon, watching how the beast trusted him and in turn the man trusted the dragon.

“My brother, he’s on the front lines,” Newt replies, not able to meet Thomas’ gaze but managing to look at his shoulder.

“What do you tell him?” Thomas had always been kind to Newt, never seeming to be bothered by his awkwardness.

“Everything I can think of, facts about dragons, stories, anything to amuse him.”

Thomas doesn’t ask why, he doesn’t need to.

He’s a fit man with fetching scars from years of working with dragons and his smile makes his face handsome.

He comes looking for Newt not long after, walking along the mountain trails with him to peer up at the wild dragons they will scare off in the morning.

When he kisses Newt it feels good but overwhelming. It’s too much and he breaks the contact, turning his head. When Thomas moves to step away though, Newt stops him. Red face and head down, he pulls the man closer and Thomas seems to understand. He kisses Newt’s neck and pulls at his trousers. Newt stares up at the dragons in the moonlight, watching them settled for the night as Thomas presses slicked fingers to his body.

The supply rations include more vegetable oil than they could possibly need but no one says a thing, men using it to masturbate in their cots at night. There are spells but after a long day or dealing with the dragons many don’t have the magic to waste. It’s a touch hilarious to scent the oil in his cot at night and know what someone is doing.

Thomas is gentle, kissing Newt’s neck passionately as he pressed into him. Newt’s on his hands and knees now and he relaxes into the burn. It feels good.

Apollo felt better though.

They don’t spend more time together after, they go about their days just as before, polite conversation mostly.

But when Thomas asks Newt to go for a walk, he goes.

It feels good and it’s a way to burn some of the pent up energy in him, he doesn’t have to sit in his cot worrying about Theseus.

 

It’s a rainy day when Newt falls.

They’re pushing back a surly group of dragons, a bunch of young males who want to head out and find a female.

The rain pours and makes everything dangerous.

Charles yells at Newt to cast a Lumos Maxima and send a group of dragons flying towards them back.

When he tosses the spell into the air his foot slips and he tumbles. Someone shouts but Newt bangs his head on the sharp stones and darkness takes him.

 

He wakes with his head throbbing painfully and his body shivering cold.

It’s dark out, the moonlight casting weakly as he sits up in the dirt. He’s fallen a great height and slid under an outcropping of stone, hidden from the skies.

When he crawls out the cold air whips at him and he ducks back in. The climb is at least forty feet, but if he can find one of their paths he can make his way to the camp.

The problem is it’s still raining hard, the skies dark and the stones of the mountain perilously slick.

Newt’s already soaked and he knows he can’t stay, he’ll freeze in the night.

So he starts his trek up the mountainside, making long zigzags across to find stable places to climb. The rain blinds him and his teeth chatter, his fingers numb from the cold and his nails torn from trying to find a grip.

Barely halfway up, Newt knows he won’t be able to climb the rest of the way, his body is shaking too badly.

He looks for shelter along the rocks, hands feeling into the dark, looking for something dry and deep enough to block the wind.

He finds a large opening and when he follows it into the black the wind finally stops beating him, his face burns from it.

Newt’s body aches all over, great bruises blooming he imagines and he’s certain his pinky toe is broken. But he knows how lucky he is, he fell from a mountain cliff and his limbs are all there, his skull whole.

The cave is warm, seeping heat the feels amazing at first.

Eventually Newt realizes that a cave shouldn’t be warm, not an empty one at least.

When he ventures deeper he finds a young male dragon, his breathing is labored, his chest and throat glowing with the fire inside him. It casts a soft light and Newt can see the great thick tree branch buried in the dragon’s side. His left wing is broken as well, he must have fallen.

“Hello,” Newt whispers and the dragon’s eyes look at him, its breath is hot but it can’t raise its head to put up a fight.

Newt’s heart breaks at the sight and he carefully inspects the injuries. The wing is easy to reset but the branch takes hours to remove. The dragon snarls at him for it but is too weak to attack him. Instead it thrashes and manages to bruise and bang him up but little more.

They all carry an emergency case on their belt, a needle and threat among the supplies. There is a magical light flare but the rain with dim it so Newt doesn’t bother. He’ll wait for clear skies and a chance someone will be out to see it. With the threat he stitches the dragon, there’s little light but the grey blue that radiated in the young dragon’s chest, his fire, is enough for Newt to work by. Eventually the dragon will grow older and his skin will toughen and the light will be hidden, it’s a marker of its age while its spikes tell Newt its gender. A young male, not a juvenile, but not an adult just yet.

Newt goes back into the cold and uses his soaked coat to gather rainwater. The dragon snarls but drinks.

“There we go, I’m not out to harm you my friend,” he encourages, bringing more water until the dragon refuses to drink.

Newt carefully explores the rough hide, looking for any other injuries. The dragon is a bit small for its age, not as large as it should be. Newt frowns and wonders if the male is lone, most dragons group together in family packs.

The male grumbles at him but eventually sleeps, once the adrenaline fades, Newt is exhausted as well. He finds a small ledge to curl up on, if the dragon shifts in the night, it won’t crush him. The stones are all pleasantly warm and they sooth his sore body as he drifts off.

 

“I actually learned how to make traps so I could take them apart one day,” Newt explains to the dragon he’s dubbed Kenneth. He just looked like one to Newt and he imagines Theseus’ face when he tells him. Theseus and their mum had argued plenty over names, their mum preferred properly majestic names while Theseus used the most mundane he could find, Frank, Robert, Melvin. Their mum had banned Theseus from naming Hippogriffs after poor Elmer was named.

“I thought after the war if I see a trap I’ll ruin it and some poor creature could live on. Not to take away from those hunting for food mind you, poachers and the like,” he chattered and Kenneth just huffs at him.

The rain has let up in the day but it’s still falling. Newt had explored around a bit and found some mountain goats, a favored of Ironbelly dragons. So with some twigs, his belt and his leather undercoat torn into strips, he’d managed to set a trap and catch one.

His heavy coat is currently held up with sticks to make a rough bowl, filled with water for Kenneth. Newt had wisely taken a few cuts of meat for himself before bringing into the cave. Kenneth had immediately eaten the whole thing in a great grab and chew, but he looked better for it. Newt used the fire starter in his pouch to make a small fire and cook his own portion.

After that, he went back out into the rain and brought back a little bush he found growing on a ledge. Each time he goes out he gets soaked to the bone but the cave is a bit like a sauna and he dries quickly.

With a rock he mashes the plant leaves up and adds a bit of water to get a creamy mixture that he packs on the dragon’s wound. The plant will fight any infection and help seal the torn skin.

He works very carefully, minding the dragon who can now lift his head and look around. Kenneth watches him with unblinking gaze but he lets Newt tend to him, seeming to sense he isn’t a threat.

Around midday the trouble starts.

A cry echoes in the mountain valley, a low warble and Kenneth is trying to get up and out. It’s a female calling suitors and the young male is eager to mate. Newt struggles to keep him in, when the dragon rises and fumbles to move his gash opens and stitched bust. Blood pours and Newt knows if the dragon flies he will bleed out.

“Please, stay, stop,” he pushes against the dragon but it ignores him, a powerful creature and Newt’s feet drag on the ground uselessly.

In a desperate attempt, Newt croons at him. He mimics the sound and Kenneth is utterly baffled. Dragons, the Iron Belly particularly, relies on sound primarily. As soon as the dragon pauses Newt takes up the sound with more relish, doing his best to make the sound, cupping his hands and struggling to get the deep warbling sound.

Kenneth watches him, eyes intent and Newt backs into the cave, the dragon slowly following him in.

It’s a relief and Newt’s heart is pounding in joy but then he realizes the mess he’s made because Kenneth’s phallus is hanging free and he’s looking at Newt like he’s a tricky puzzle.

“Oh dear,” Newt breathes, staring at the member that is longer than his whole arm and twice as thick at the base.

The problem is that the dragon needs to mate. If he doesn’t he will eventually leave to go chase the female. Newt has been having regular sex with Thomas but this is something else entirely.

He steps back when Kenneth bumps his chest curiously, making low mating calls. His foot knocks the bowl of the plant mix and Newt gulps.

He ends up taking his pants and boots off, slicking his body with the plant mix. Newt is very generous, glancing at the phallus hanging off Kenneth and then adding a fourth finger, gritting his teeth as he works his body as open as he can get it.

Once that’s done he lies down on his back, propped up against the cave wall. He picks a spot where there is a small dip in the wall that his body fits into, enough room that Kenneth won’t crush him in his excitement.

When he makes the mating call again Kenneth is hurrying over, confused but young enough not to try and make sense of the strange female dragon he thinks Newt is.

The dragon is clumsy, climbing the wall, cock dripping and wiggling like an eel, trying to find Newt’s body. His seed is very warm, enough to make Newt jerk when it drips on his thigh. The dragon is radiating heat either way and pressed up, Newt is already sweating.

Very awkwardly and with a lot of mess ups, they manage to line up.

Newt sort of kneels against Kenneth’s body, his legs tucked up, shins against either side of the base of the dragon’s cock. There’s just enough room in the dip that when Kenneth shoves Newt had room to scramble back.

The length of an arm plunges into him and Newt howls out at the pain. Kenneth’s hips jerk and pump in small tight motions. The length itself is wiggling, worming deep and spilling seed. Newt keeps his legs up and pressed them out but snug against the cock, making Kenneth feel he’s much deeper than he is.

The dragon, thank heavens, is tricked.

He settled against the wall, crooning out softly as his semen begins to pump, the entire length of his cock jerking with each pulse.

Newt is holding his arms out to brace himself on the wall and mindful of Kenneth’s massive body. He can feel the heat in his body, his stomach beginning to cramp as it bulges a bit. Newt trembled, red faced as his own cock smacks his stomach, hard and dripping.

Kenneth shifts and thrust up once, a few more inches slipping in and Newt cries out, coming all over himself as the dragon fills him.

It only lasts a few seconds more and then Kenneth is pulling back and off. Newt slumps to the floor as the dragon’s cock comes free. A great puddle of semen rushes out of him, heat rising off the mess as it coats his backside and thighs.

Newt pants, sweat dripping down his forehead and pooling at the small of his back.

The female calls twice more and so Newt is forced to mate twice more.

Kenneth pumps into him, the second time, and Newt’s insides hurt as he takes all the dragon seed. His stomach fills out, skin tight as Newt sobs.

He still comes, chest heaving as the dragon pulls off of him and a seemingly endless amount of seed pours from him.

The third time Newt’s body can’t handle another mating, his poor hole feels impossibly loose and Newt tries to clench it closed but it won’t go. He knows another mating will damage his insides, they feel bruised already.

So when Kenneth urges him to the wall, already knowing the spot, Newt lets the beast rutted between his thighs.

The dragon knows it doesn’t feel quite right, he shoves longer and shifts around more. Newt wraps his hands around the thick wiggling cock and tries to cover as much as he can, pressing it against his own cock and stomach.

Kenneth settles and the seed spills. It comes in thick splatters on Newt’s chest, more and more until it spills over his shoulders and down his back. It’s like a too hot bath and his shivers as he comes. Spurts of seed hit his face and Newt parts his lips, tasting the flavor of dragon semen.

 

After Kenneth is done and resting, Newt stumbles outside naked. He’s covered in a thick layer of dragon seed; it’s all over his body and in his hair. He reeks of that heavy musk like he did with Apollo, a unique scent he can only identify as dragon.

The rain is heavy again and it’s freezing as it hits his skin and cleans him off. Newt bathes in the mouth of the cave, rain running down his body and the white sticky feeling fades.

Lightning crashes and thunder rolls and Newt looks up into the sky. The air is crisp and carries the scent of the pine trees and earth below. His chest heaves and Newt feels something so viciously free inside him. He looks out into the world, this wild area untouched by man and he feels something amazing rolling through him. His magic hums under his skin and Newt grins for no reason, shaking rain out of his hair.

Kenneth rumbles, an inquisitive sound and Newt goes back into the cave. He’s cleaned his clothing and he leaves it all on the little rock ledge to dry.

Feeling daring he approaches the dragon and carefully slumps down with him. Kenneth twists his head to tuck Newt in a protective circle and they both fall asleep.

After two more days the rains slow and eventually break and Kenneth heals. Newt manages to find three sheep that become dinner. When the sun comes out the dragon fumbles from the cave to hunt on his own, crawling on the cliff sides to find goats and sheep.

Newt watches him go with a fond warm feeling.

He dresses and starts up the cliff side in the sunlight. By midmorning the sun has chased away the cold and the wet patches are dried up. Newt climbs the mountainside until he reaches a path. Grinning he ignores the pain in his body, his foot is aching and his backside a constant sting.

He walks only an hour before he finds a group of wizards.

“By Merlin’s beard!” Charles exclaims when he sees him and the group welcomes him back with one-armed hugs and backslaps. They look at him with a new respect, listening to his story as he sips a nice hot tea and waits for the healing potion he already took to work. His backside feels far better now and Newt carefully leaves out the part about Kenneth mating him.

Everyone is happy to see him, cheered not to have lost a man. They make him sit by the fire and retell his story. Newt feels self-conscious but no one mentions his fumbling or when he stutters. He eats a full meal and curls up in his cot under the blanket with a warming charm, they had found his wand thankfully.

Newt sleeps easily but notes he found Kenneth’s body heat far more comforting.

 

There’s a racket in the morning that wakes Newt.

Stumbling from the little single person tent charmed to hold thirty, he immediately sees the problem.

Kenneth is up high on a cliff, looming over them with a sheep in his mouth. He circles the camp and the tamed dragons are snarling but the younger one is firmly refusing to leave. Newt laughs out loud unbelieving and he snags a broom to fly up and coax the dragon off.

Kenneth shared the sheep with him, crunching bones and watching Newt keenly as he cooks and chews a few bits to satisfy the dragon. Charles watches from a distance, taking in the strange interaction. When a female in the valley calls to mate Kenneth turns his head to Newt curiously. Standing up, he brushes his trousers and then goes to shoo Kenneth. Gently but firmly he directs him and after a moment the dragon follows his instincts and takes off. When a female has successfully been impregnated she would stop calling, signaling the male dragon to move on.

When Newt returns to camp everyone wants to hear the story and Charles watches him curiously.

 

Newt writes a long letter to his brother, detailing his adventure with the needed editing. Charles comes looking for him; Newt is up high on a ledge with some trees, taking in some time alone. He didn’t mind the other’s positive attention but eventually he wanted the quiet. He’s not used to people and they overwhelm him.  

“There’s something about you,” the old wizard announces to Newt and he looks up from his writing.

“Sir?”

“You’re different from the rest, tell me Scamander, what do you plan to do after this war business?”

“I’m not sure, I’d like to write a book eventually,” Newt chews his lower lip. “About magical creatures, a proper book on them.”

Charles nods his head and tugs at his greying beard as he looked out over the fire where everyone else is seated.

“Think about traveling first, you’d do good I think, wandering and finding those creatures and learning about them first hand.”

Newt blinks but nods his head, heart a bit warmed that the wizard thought he was capable.

“At least go meet more dragons, I’ve a friend who could help you find them, you’d do well to write a proper reference on them. The current books are lacking.”

They talked into the night, Charles offering stories and thoughts on various dragons while Newt took notes eagerly.

“I think you have more to offer then you realize,” the man told him before he left for the night, looking at Newt like he was someone worth looking at.

He remained there by himself for a long while, unable to fight a smile that refused to fade.

 

Thomas and Newt met up a few more times but there was a change in men, some leaving and others coming, giving a break to those who needed it. Newt refused the offer, perfectly fine to stay at the mountain pass and herd the dragons.

Thomas was to head down to the dragon tamers and riders who were participating in the war.

“You’ll write won’t you?” Newt asked him and the other man paused uneasily, glancing at Newt with a strange hesitation.

“Newt, you know I like you and all,” he explained. “But this, well this is just a wartime thing, you know? No girls around so…” he shrugged and glanced at Newt with worry. “No hard feelings?”

Newt was comfortable enough around him now that he offered him a sly smile.

“Stories Thomas, you’ll write me any stories you hear that I can pass to my brother.”

The man had already offered up a few tales and they’d been rather good.

Now he looked utterly flustered and Newt put his chin in his hand to mask his smile. Leta had taught Newt not to expect anything, not to hope for more. He had never once thought that the man would want anything to do with him after the war.

Thomas eventually laughed and Newt grinned, they parted as friends and Thomas even did send a few stories.

Newt was granted a strange respect within the camp that he quite liked. Kenneth would come around from time to time, a wild dragon somehow docile for Newt and him alone. Other young males would come with him, curious about Newt. They would turn vicious if anyone else came too close though. The older handlers were inquisitive about Newt for it. They would offer him advice and listen to his own thoughts. He sat among them more than the men his own age. There was simply too much to learn for Newt to pass it up, filling his journal up and spelling it so it wouldn’t run out of pages.

Howard came in with the new group and he didn’t bother to hide his interests. He flirted with any and every man and it was all in good fun. Newt went with him, letting the slim but strong man push him back into his cot and mutter a silencing charm. Alfred came after and then Leo. Fredrick and Herman would take turns with him, one leaving his cot and the other sliding in right after. They were different men, different builds, shapes, different personalities. They all understood that Newt only wanted something passing; most of them were relieved and eager to hear it. He would fumble and go meek but they seemed to like it well enough.

Newt worked with the dragons and he slept with the men. He learned how to track and hunt on his own, able to survive on his own in the wild. With the men he learned about sex, what would feel good and what people expected of him. It was nice to have warm bodies pressed to him, knowing exactly what they wanted.

Despite the content routine he found for the first time in his life, Newt cheered with the rest just as happily when the war ended.

He laughed in a near hysterical relief with the group around the fire, the tight ball of constant fear for his brother finally fading. So he tried to fit in a bit more that night, drinking too much with the rest of them and then sleeping with three different men. Newt tried every sex act offered and he explored thoroughly, a bit bemused to find at the end it all, Kenneth had been by far the best.

 

Newt came home shortly after his brother and Theseus met him in the doorway, grabbing Newt up and spinning him around. When he set him down they both blinked to find Newt a hair taller.

“You’ve grown into a man!” Theseus crowed and grabbed Newt into a boisterous hug. “Look mum! Newt’s a man now!”

Their mother spared her eldest son a look but she embraced Newt tightly. Arms curling around him. Newt returned it eagerly; he knew she had struggled when he left against her wishes.

“I had too,” he confessed to her and she pulled back, peering into his face before slowly nodding.

“You did, didn’t you?” She smiled and then his dad was hugging him.

They reconciled over the dinner table, telling stories eagerly and laughing. Theseus had an endless novel of daring adventures and Newt felt giddy that he had his own for the first time. He talked about the men he worked with and the escapades they had all shared. But mostly he talked about the dragons, trying to describe their magnificence.

Theseus listened with a great bright grin and Newt stuttered to a stop mid-story, face flushing. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You look good Newt,” his brother replied simply. Their mum and dad exchanged a look and then agreed, praising Newt for something he didn’t understand.

 

His family encourages him to undergo the traveling for his book and so Newt packs up and goes. True to his word, Charles puts Newt in contract with various dragon tamers and riders. He doesn’t know what Charles tells them but they let him come and visit, working with the dragons alongside them for a handful of months. He gets to study various breeds, the Hungarian Horntail, the Chinese Fireball, the Romanian Longhorn and so many more. Newt travels to their homelands and he sees them in their natural habitats. He writes extensively and begins to shape his book.

Theseus is an auror for the Ministry now and he’s very popular. When Newt comes home and compiles his notes for an outline to pitch his book Theseus is not above asking people in high positions for advice and support. It makes Newt feel a bit small but the people who look over his ideas are clearly interested in his work. In the end he is picked up and granted a decent pay to begin a larger study. What his publishers doesn’t pay for, his families wealth covers.

Newt spends years traveling, truly traveling, walking across the continent and meeting all sorts of beasts, both magical and none. He can’t shake his awkwardness and struggles more with people than animals. He knows he stutters too much and has a tendency to babble when nervous, he knows he annoys people. When he was younger it might have bothered him more. Now he just goes along with it, uncaring. Once he’s settled deep in a jungle he feels at home. He meets so many creatures and he eventually develops a study room to work in, examining the properties of Mooncalf dung and Nundu saliva. He spells the study into a simple suitcase, it draws no attention and he can even bed down inside if need.

He finds an injured Fwooper and learns to mend it, keeping it in his case until it’s strong enough to go out on its own. It builds from there, adding more and more room as the animals in need of care grow larger. The Nundu is a bit tricky but with patience, Newt learns to teach the creatures to mind their manners with each other. The beasts come and then they go for a long time. He does on occasion draw in an admirer and sometimes he mates with them, the creatures seem to understand how to take him far better than humans. Newt has opportunities with Wizards and Muggle men but he turns them down, uninterested in sex with humans.

Odd as that was.

Everything goes along until the first poacher. Newt ends up in a fierce dual and barely defeats the three men. Six Mooncalves are freed but they’ve been captive too long. If Newt releases them into the wild they will die quickly. So he builds them a space in the suitcase, spending long hours working on a habitat for them, designing it until it’s like stepping into their native land. He tries to teach them to be independent but they are tamed, flocking to him and trailing after him like ducklings. Newt resolves to ensure their young are more wild.

After the Mooncalves come the Murtlap and then the Doxys. The Demigues kept as a pet in a metal cage, the Niffler used to steal, the Swooping Evil poached to be butchered. Newt is a one man force against any poacher he comes across, raiding camps and collecting beasts in need. He releases those that can go and takes in those who cannot.

The laws are not kind to magical creatures he learns, he turns in the poachers properly and they are released the next day.

“Typically it's a fine, pay the money and off you go,” Theseus admitted with a sigh. They were in a busy café for lunch, Newt passing through and stopping to see his big brother.

“That’s terrible,” he replied. “How can there be no proper laws to defend these poor creatures? They’re only trying to follow their natures.”

Theseus shrugged. “I can send you what we have on the laws from country to country, you’ll see yourself that they’re pretty lenient.”

So Newt learned to side step the law a bit, working around unfair restrictions for the greater good. Most officials and lawmakers develop a healthy dislike of Newt and his tendency to cause a bit of fuss when he finds beasts in need. Poachers cannot just be left so he practices with his brother to duel better, learning to defend and defeat. He’s nothing amazing but he can win. It frustrates him to no end when they go free right away, few countries have any real laws against poaching. So Newt works outside the law even more, raiding poaching operations, freeing animals and destroying traps and nets. It makes the lawmakers like him even less.

But Newt has long since stopped worrying about what people thought of him.

Half a dock is on fire in Egypt, but Newt had met a glorious Thunderbird and rescued over eighty other animals. No one has been hurt either, outside the poachers. So Newt wipes the ash off his face and heads out, having enough experience to know he should leave the country right away. Most places now know that when something related to poachers has occurred, a certain British wizard should be found.

 

Frank was unease of Newt for weeks, not yet able to trust a human after what the others had done to him. Shackled and pinned down like an object as they moved him, intending to deliver him to some wealthy wizard who wanted a pet. Creatures like Thunderbirds never lived long in captivity, more so those who were raised in the wild.

Newt was patient with the great beast, minding the others in their habitats and letting Frank adjust while they began the journey to America. Newt had visited before but only with Theseus. MACUSA had never been very keen on him visiting, their stance on their magical beasts a terrible one. Essentially if it managed to come in contact with humans then it should be destroyed was their thought. Newt, of course, was horrified and so tucked every creature in danger away in his case when he visited. He hadn’t been caught yet, but MACUSA officials looked at him like they knew, they just couldn’t prove it.  

Theseus would be upset to learn Newt was venturing on his own but it might be a good trip, a chance to explore the continent and learn about their beasts.

“Hello,” Newt offered carefully, Frank shifting nervously beside him. With a practiced care and patience, Newt cleaned the Thunderbirds legs. Deep gouges from the shackles were still healing and he didn’t want them to get infected.

Frank tilted his massive head and watched Newt gently wipe the dirt from his skin. About midway the beast shifted and Newt froze, waiting for Frank to decide what he wanted. The great beast’s weight shifted as he lifted his wings and moved, very carefully lowering his head to Newts and tugging at his hair. It hurt a bit by the sheer strength of the beast but the grooming behavior made Newt chuckle. The Thunderbird was letting him know that he liked Newt, had decided to trust him.

Such a glorious animal belonged free in America, so it stood to reason that there were many more to be found and studied as well. Newt smiled up at his new friend and resolved to gently sidestep the laws and explore Frank’s home, regardless of silly things like permission.

Only humans would think to claim everything for themselves, setting names and rules to each piece of land as they pleased, as if they owned it all rather then shared it with all the other living creatures.

 

It was a bit embarrassing that Newt didn’t notice right away.

As Frank’s legs healed up he began to grow more lively, flying high and landing with a flourish or a complicated twist. Newt laughed in delight every time, watching fondly as the wonderful creature seemed to come back into itself.

He would rub against Newt as well, taking care not to knock him over. Affectionate and always willing to come down from the sky when Newt was there.

It honestly took the nest for Newt to understand.

A few sticks in a pile and then grass layered, Frank was terribly concerned with his pile. One evening Newt finished feeding the rest of the beasts and when he came to check on the Thunderbird, he was working away, sorting sticks and carefully selecting each one before placing it.

“Oh,” Newt breathed when he was close enough to see the rough circle being build. The middle was lined with dried grass and dirt with a downy layer of feathers from Frank’s own body. “Oh dear.”

Frank preened at him, nudging Newt closer until he was essential in the nest.

“It’s very nice,” he assured the concerned beast, patting the truly soft surface. “But Frank, I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a mix-up.”

Frank took the news that Newt wasn’t available to be his mate in that he utterly ignored or genuinely didn’t understand the concept.

When Newt came to feed and tend to him, the Thunderbird performed staggering dances in the air, wings spread as he twisted elegantly. The nest continued to be worked on, taking up most of Frank’s time now. He refused to stop preening Newt, picking his hair and clothing. He also kept his own feathers in pristine condition, cleaning them obsessively when Newt was around.

It was all terribly endearing.

Newt hadn’t taken a lover since the Occamy a few years ago. The gorgeous group had taken a liking to Newt and used him to carry their eggs. The female crooning at Newt as she laid her eggs inside his body. Afterwards the four males had all come to inseminate the eggs inside him. Newt’s own magic feeding the eggs with life and allowing him to carry the little ones.

Newt had felt honored, it was rare for Occamy to use wizard hosts after all. So he carried the eggs faithfully and now minded them in their own nest, ready to hatch any day now. Occamy typically didn’t raise their own young but Newt would mind the little ones, learning what they could teach him before he found a safe home to release them into.

Frank was working hard to impress Newt, trying to prove his worth as a mate and Newt was always swayed by a good show.

Red faced, he found himself idly prepping himself at night, transfiguring objects into the size he would need to slowly stretch his body open.

When the Thunderbird rubbed against Newt, he pressed back, returning the affection, helping Frank straighten stray feathers and in general returning the mating behaviors. The beast was very content with him then, following Newt wherever he could and working on the nest steadily with Newt obligingly adding to it, pressing warm blankets into the pile and curling up in it, showing Frank he approved of his creation.

It was a warm day in the suitcase, they were aboard a ship heading to America and Newt decided it was a good time.

So when Frank circled to land Newt mimicked him by making his own little circles on the ground. He went down on his knees and with shaky hands he pushed his trousers down and presented himself.

He was wet and opened already, riding a nice long length of smooth wood to make sure his body would take Frank without anyone getting hurt.

The Thunderbird’s wings pushed air down and around Newt, making him close his eyes to avoid getting dirt in them.

With infinite care, Frank lowered himself over Newt, his long wings touching down first uncharacteristically. His body came down after, feet stretched out to find the ground and hold himself up so as not to crush Newt.

The first wet touch made Newt jerk despite himself. A warm thick substance dripped on his upturned arse and down his thighs. Looking under himself, Newt watched the white lines drip and smear on his skin as Frank wobbled closer, pushing inquiringly.

Raising himself up, his knees off the ground as he awkwardly lifted, hands holding his weight, Newt felt the next more sure touch, a long pointed tip slithering down the curve of his arse.

Frank crooned and then pushed forward a bit, the dripping end of his cock catching and sliding into Newt.

“Oh,” he gasped out, Frank was warm like Kenneth had been, a different body temperature. His cock wasn’t too massive but it was so long, working deep inside Newt.

Clutching at the ground, Newt let the Thunderbird work, hips pumping in quick motions as he wings held him up.

A long claw took hold of Newt’s calf unexpectedly and he shouted out when Frank yanked him back. The length of his own forearm suddenly buried inside him.

Newt whined and felt his stomach heave, growing heavy as Frank crooned and his body still rocked in tight little motions.

Newt could feel his body struggling, even the spells he cast on himself pushed to their limits as his stomach felt heavy, filling up rapidly as the Thunderbird seeded him. It hung enough that the head of his own cock slapped against it and the strange sensation made Newt come with a shudder.

Frank held him moment longer before the claws on his leg let go and Newt immediately slumped to the ground, feeling a great gush of seed rush from his hole when Frank’s cock came free.

A truly staggering amount of seed seeped from him and after a moment Newt shivered and spelled his body once more, keeping the remaining semen inside him. It left a little belly on him and he could feel the seed inside sloshing around.

“Oh my,” Newt trembled, feeling his cock struggle to come around again under the sensations.

Frank leaned down to rub his head on Newt’s face and he returned the caress, panting for breath a bit as he smiled at his newest lover.

At the Thunderbirds insistence, Newt mated with him at least three times a day, keeping a belly of semen inside him the entire time. Reaching down and caressing it during the day.

The Occamy eggs had left a belly on him near the end as well and Newt had rather liked it, feeling the eggs inside him. The idea of carrying those lives, of being trusted to protect and nurture in such an amazing and intimate way had been marvelous to Newt then and it was still now.

So when he began to feel the swell of magic, he didn’t fight it. Frank rubbed at his face and settled Newt into the nest for the last few days of the trip. He preened Newt contently and Newt smiled, feeling his stomach and sensing the new life forming.

A Thunderbird egg inside him, born from Frank’s magic and carried by Newt’s own.

He shivered and hoped Frank wouldn’t mind Newt raising the little one. He considered the Occamy his children and now he would have another one, a little family no one else would understand, but one that Newt loved dearly.

 

Arriving in New York was a mess.

First his creatures escaping the case, too long trapped on the boat ride Newt supposed. Then an auror was determined to take him in and everything was spiraling. Newt really did not like lawmakers and their enforcers. Theseus being the rare exception.

No one cared that his creatures weren’t out to hurt anyone, no one carried that he had collected them all up, no one wanted to listen to his explanations.

They sentenced him to death even.

Newt realized that something was terribly amiss around then.

One could not arrest, judge, and then execute a wizard from another country so simply. There were hundred of forms and people to contact, British representatives to contact and weigh in on. The Ministry of Magic did not believe in death as punishment and as such criminals abroad would have to be sent back to British soil to face their equivalent penalty.

So Newt escaped and everything turned rather dramatic, wand fights and an Obscurial to try and save. Newt had worked with them before.

In the end the Obscurial was thought dead and one of the most deadly wizards of their age was revealed.

Newt mostly wanted to slink off, he never liked the spotlight, but then there was a crisis and he knew the only real solution.

Newt had hoped for more time with Frank but the Thunderbird now had to save the American wizarding world’s collective backsides.

Newt spun a story about venom and what not, unwilling to explain the truth.

A Thunderbird was powerful, far more than anyone had ever documented before. Newt had worked hard on his habitats but it had been Frank who extended them to truly amazing lengths. The skies were endless in the suitcase now. Newt still wasn’t sure the actual size of them. Frank had wanted it and thus it had happened.

The Thunderbird had wanted to breed Newt and now he carried an egg inside his body.  

What Frank willed, came true. He was no mindless beast as people labeled him, labeled so many creatures. So when Newt asked him to erase the exposure he took to the skies and his rain poured it’s magic, saving MACUSA.

Newt immediately bid a hasty farewell as soon as he could, head ducked as he rushed to leave the country before anyone realized the flaws in the story of venom and memory charms.

Unfortunately he did have to go in and do an interview and debriefing of everything. Thankfully Tina, newly reinstated, conducted it and it was easy enough to get through without any major slip-ups.

They were just finishing up when the beast arrived.

The long rows of desks with aurors working away were suddenly disturbed with screams and shouts, magic being cast from all over. Newt only heard the snarl of a panicked creature and was up and moving before he knew it.

There, right in the middle of the room was a massive dark beast, a wolf of some kind, snarling and snapping at everyone. Vicious magic slammed into it and the poor thing only panicked more, eyes wild as it limped and kept fighting, clearly ready to die standing.

Someone cast a something vile, something meant to kill and Newt had his wand out deflecting it.

“Stop!” He cried out, rushing to get in front of the beast and the aurors.

“Stop please, you’ll only make this worse,” he tried to explain. Thankfully Tina was on his side, calling for calm.

Newt whirled to face the creature, hands up and eyes down in submission. He pushed his magic out, not in any sort of defensive or offensive way, rather he tried for calm.

The wolf beast snarled, limping as it backed up against a pillar and Newt immediately called desks into formations, creating a wall for the creature to hide against.

The smell of fur burning made Newt press forward, hands out at the people watching more than the beast.

“It’s going to be ok, I’m going to help you,” he promised, inching closer. A flick of his wand called his suitcase as Newt reached into his pocket.

Talking was the best way to lure a scared creature, time and patience. But with more people pouring into the room he knew he didn’t have that.

So with slow movements, he raised his hand and crushed open a small vial, blowing the green dust at the poor creature. It only took one inhale and his large body went slack, he whined as he slipped to the floor, sleep overtaking him.

Newt immediately spelled him into his suitcase, out of sight was the best option. He placed him in the main chamber where careful spells would wake and keep him contained so the other beasts would be safe.

“What was that?” Tina asked immediately as Newt did his case up securely.

“A variation of a base wolf I believe,” he offered up as the aurors around them settled.

As it turned out, an anonymous envelope was sent to the department and the wolf had been spelled inside it. There was nothing new about it, they were often sent dangerous mail but it was rare for it to get passed the wards and spell checkers.

So Tina came into the suitcase and examined the wolf, checking for magical residue and anything else they could think of.

“I don’t think anyone will like you taking him with you,” she mentioned quietly while she worked.

Newt shrugged. “I don’t plan on asking. He’s a beast who was used to try and cause harm, send to die no doubt. There is no reason for your department to keep him is there? I doubt they’ll be sending him on is way with a pat at the end of it all.”

Tina frowned, but she didn’t protest, instead casting every sort of finding spell and learning charm she could. Once she was done she brought another auror in and he cast the same magic. They concluded that the poor fellow was simply a creature and there was nothing more to learn about him.

By the evening the attention was back on the envelope and tracking where it had come from.

“You should head off,” Tina told him subtly as the department focused on other things. Newt shook her hand and offered her a brilliant smile, promising to visit again and bring her a copy of his book.

Newt headed straight to the docks and managed to arrive just in time to catch a departing boat. Hurrying on, he felt like he was holding his breath until the sight of the city faded away. Only then did he slowly relax, certain he and his new friend were safe.

Packed away in tiny but private cabin, Newt went exploring into his suitcase to check on the beast.

The scent of burning fur and flesh staggered him when he entered. Dogual was making anxious sounds and Newt almost tripped in his haste to get out of the study room and find the source.

The wolf was still sleeping but twitching and whining in pain. Pulling his wand, Newt carefully explored his body and found three embedded burning stones on his chest.

“You poor thing,” He breathed and settled on the ground to gently pry them free. They were red hot and skin pulled away with them, making the great creature jerk, even unconscious. “It’s almost done,” Newt soothed and Dougal was at his side with Newt's medical kit. Smiling thankfully he poured soothing potions to help with the hurt.

Once he was done tending to the terrible thing inflicted on the poor beast Newt stepped back to properly examine him. He almost looked like a base wolf of some type but his size and the faint pulse of magic in him spoke differently.

Perhaps a Direwolf?

“I’ve never met one of your kind before,” he told the beast softly, running his hands through its thick fur and checking for any other injuries.

There was a sprain on his front left leg and he was terribly underweight, but Newt was cheered to see there was nothing serious.

He spelled the old habitat Frank had used into something more fitting a Direwolf, building thick pine trees and rocky cliffs with deep caverns for hiding. Newt always loved this, creating a new world within his own. He poured his magic into each bit of bark and pine needle, recreating it from his memories.

Newt carefully left the Thunderbird nest alone, circling it and creating a protective row of stones with gentle charms to keep it safe. He pressed a hand to his midsection and wondered how long it would take before he was minding a little one.

Dougal explored the trees and even Pickett was running about the branches curiously. Newt grinned at them, watching the creatures move about and feeling a calm overtake him. He always felt best when he was left on his own with his beasts.

Gently he moved the wolf, finding a nice hidden spot to set him down. He wouldn’t wake for hours yet so Newt left him be and began putting up wards.

Frank had made the habitat far larger with his magic so it took some time for Newt to circle it properly. With the Direwolf the newest visitor Newt would need to time to calm him and make him understand that the other beasts were to be left alone. Until then, gentle wards would keep him contained.

Newt never liked feeling as if he was trapping creatures but he had to ensure everyone was safe.

It had been hard to gauge the intellect of the beast in the MACUSA building, panicked as it was, but Newt hoped it would be clever enough to understand.

Once he was done he wandered the habitats, spending a bit of time with each beast, and making sure everyone was safe and settled.

After a final round to ensure all was well Newt finally curled up for a bit of sleep, spelling a soft cot outside the study in case he was needed.

The instinct proved wise when he woke some time later, his wards ringing through him.

The Direwolf was throwing himself against the wards, snarling and panicking.

“Pleases stop!” Newt cried, stumbling from the cot and rushing to reach the scared beast. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Newt spelled the other habitats closed before he opened the wards holding the creature.

It staggered forward, panting and eyes wild as it swung it’s head around searching.

“I know this must be terribly confusing for you but I’m afraid were tucked away on a boat so I can’t let you out right now.”

Newt kept his distance, watching the creature pace and pant.

“I’m going to help you, I do promise I will get you home,” he offered and the direwolf's gaze turned to him for the first time. Newt looked away, he’d spent years learning not to meet predator’s gazes, to let them know he wasn’t a threat.

The Direwolf was very fast, it was across the space between them in a breath and Newt only managed to raise his arm before it was upon him, teeth crushing into his forearm.

Dougal screamed and the beast was startled, looking for the sound.

Newt raised his wand and spelled the beast back into the habitat.

When it began to slam against the wards once more he rushed into his study, fumbling with jars, trying to cover his bleeding arm and find the right bottle at the same time.

He managed to wrap a cloth around his arm and hurried to the wards with a potion. When the direwolf slammed into the invisible wall Newt tossed the potion, a soft green cloud spreading around the beast’s head. He sniffed and sneezed once and then stumbled, panting hard as he sat down dizzy.

“Terribly sorry, but you’re being very rude,” Newt explained, lowering the wards and approaching the beast.

It snarled weakly at him but was too doused to do more. Gently, Newt checked his body and found the sprained front leg now broken.

“Oh dear, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I do promise I’m here to help,” he reassured softly.

Newt dosed the direwolf again until it was sleeping deeply and he reset the break, using a sturdy branch to sling and bind the leg up.

“I’m afraid you’ll need to keep on the calming draught for a bit, if only to let your leg heal.”

Dougal watched with wide eyes and when Newt left the habitat and let the wards close, the Demiguise was over checking his torn arm.

Newt offered a weak smile to assure him.

In his study he swallowed a potion for the pain and rubbed a bit of mild venom that would numb his arm. There were four gashes, the lower one not as deep as the top. Newt took a clean needle and thread and stitched them all up, sealing them with a rare Brazilian fire slug slime that would keep them clean. He wrapped a bandage around them anyway and with a sigh went back to his cot.

The direwolf was near the edge of the wards, curled up and sleeping.

Newt watched him for a bit before making a decision, he went back into the habitat and up to the nest Frank had built for him. It felt cozy and perfect, Newt spelled a few protection charms and settled in for a nap. The direwolf would sleep for many hours yet so there was little worry.

Of course, Newt woke to a very large direwolf head right beside his face.

He had to have slept for far longer than he had planned. His charms should have warned him, the Direwolf must have had some magic ability then.

Newt wasn’t new to being in such dangerous situations so he just waited, laid out and resting.

The beast sniffed at him, warm and sour breath rolling over his face. When Newt didn’t jump or react the poor thing seemed confused by him, unsure what to do when Newt wasn’t screaming murder or attacking. It eventually slunk off, claws tapping on the stone as it left.

Newt yawned and woke himself up with a long stretch.

When he left the space he kept the wards down, letting the direwolf trail after him, alert but calmer now. It’s bad leg hindered him and Newt took care to spike some water with a pain reliever and a bit more calming draught. The direwolf didn’t touch the water until Newt was several feet away, and then it dove in, drinking quickly and looking around wearily the entire time.

The poor best stayed like that for weeks.

Newt arrived home in England and settled in quickly so he could focus on his new guest. He spent his days working on his book, setting up a writing table in the open and editing as the creatures went about their days. Newt would give everyone breakfast, check on anyone still healing and then work for a few hours. Then he would break for lunch and a snack for those who needed it. Back to work and then in no time it was dinner.

The Direwolf was given more space, the creatures still weary of him as he skulked about, either stalking Newt or lurking in his habitat. Thankfully, he had not once attacked any of the other beasts. Beyond the one time, he never lunged at Newt either. He just seemed confused, watching and slowly healing.

Newt tried to feed him up, offering thick bloody cuts of meat but the Direwolf only seemed to eat small portions, circling the meat and gobbling a few bites down and then leaving. It was worrying until Newt discovered the issue.

He had his paperwork set aside so he could make himself a few sandwiches, packing thick cuts of roast onto bread with some tomatoes and salt.

The Direwolf was nosing around, sniffing the air and eyes locked on the foot.

Newt blinked when he noticed and immediately he settled the sandwich on the ground and backed off.

The Direwolf came closer to Newt than usual, wearily snatching the sandwich and then rushing off to eat it. A few more experiments and sure enough, the poor beast was used to human food.

He had been tamed in a sense, raised with humans and treated terribly.

So Newt adjusted the meals, pounds of roast beef and ham all sliced up became the meal and the wolf finally ate healthy portions. It was a great relief.

Watching the beast watch him, Newt knew the Direwolf was going to be a special case. It was going to take a very long time to help him heal and adjust to people as something beyond that immediate instinct to attack.

But Newt had dealt with worse before and so he settled in for the long haul.

 

“When will the book be out?”

“A few more months I suppose, I’m still working on a few last edits requested,” Newt replied to his brother idly, sipping his tea and watching the aurors of the Ministry wander about their workstations. Theseus was elbow deep in paperwork himself, only pausing to stuff lunch into his face.

“Are you out with mum and dad?”

Newt nodded. “For now, I’ve a new creature that needs attention so it’s easiest.”

“Plus mum can’t complain you never visit,” Theseus added lightly. “I’ll make my way over a few times a week if I can, have proper family dinners. She’ll be pleased.”

Newt hummed in agreement, eyes watching Theseus’ coworkers and noting something about they way the moved.

 

The Direwolf had decided Newt was the good sort finally. He followed Newt and sort of supervised, watching keenly as Newt fed and tended to the creatures of his case. When he moved to the next habitat the Direwolf followed.

The Nundu was usually calm but having another predator hanging about was understandably a bit aggravating.

“I do know, but we must drink the tonic so you don’t accidently breath toxic breath and kill everyone,” Newt explained lightly, carefully following the beast as it paced.

Perhaps waiting for her to settle was best.

Newt huffed and took a slow step closer, trying to get the potion near enough for her to swallow. It was his own fault really when she gave him a swipe, claws not out but still more than enough to send him flying down on his arse.

The Direwolf was over him in an instant, snarling as the Nundu growled in return.

“Come on now, none of that,” Newt tried to command, tugging at the Direwolf. The beast twisted his great head back to Newt and he braced for a snap. The creature just sort of looked at him and after a moment he was nudging Newt away, still watching the Nundu.

A bit bemused, Newt went.

It was clear that his Direwolf was very intelligent and it was also becoming obvious that he was a bit bossy.

So when Newt felt a pain in his abdomen, cramps aching, the Direwolf was coming over to him, sniffing the air and scenting Newt’s distress.

“Quite all right,” he assured weakly and limped over to Frank’s nest. Dougal followed at a distance while the direwolf came in much closer, nudging Newt’s leg and staring at him.

“It’s truly ok, I’m just, well I suppose I’m in labor,” he huffed, wincing at the pain.

The Occamy eggs had been small enough for him to pass on his own, pushing them out with minimal pain. But it was clear a Thunderbird egg was vastly different. Newt fumbled with his wand, cleaning his body inside and out to try and push the egg along.

A few hours later he was sweat soaked and in far more pain.

Most of his creatures were stressing now, trying to come and see him as Newt swallowed pained whimpers. His body kept contracting painfully and it wasn’t meant to do so, there was no real way to push the egg from his body.

The Direwolf paced around the nest, keeping the others away and watching Newt. At least he had earned his trust in the end, the beast seeming to decide Newt was someone to be guarded.

Newt huffed and lifted his wand, aiming it at his midsection and hoping for the best.

The direwolf froze, seeming to know what the wand meant.

Newt couldn’t explain the bizarre sensation of having an egg removed from his body. There was a great deal of pain, even as the spell kept Newt’s body from actual lasting damage, it also still pulled a solid object through his midsection.

In the end his body was terribly sore but seemingly alright and for his aches he had a stunning gold speckled egg beside him in the nest.

“Well, that was something,” Newt told the Direwolf watching him. It had calmed down now and settled beside the nest, head up on the edge to watch Newt and his egg. Others had come close as well; the bowtruckles in the nest rearranging twigs while the mooncaves peered over the rim, the occamy were curled up with the egg and Dougal was waving bits of fruit at Newt.

He couldn’t help but grin at them all, curled up with him so contently, his little family.

 

Newt was contemplating coaxing the direwolf out of the suitcase for a bit. He was currently staying with his parents and their manor had an expansive yard, acres of land where the beasts could stretch their legs out. Newt had taken the nundu and erumpent out already.

Perhaps the direwolf would do well with a good run as well.

“What do you think…Eugene?”

The great beast was sprawl out resting on its side. Its ear twitched but it gave no other sight of hearing.

“Oh come on, Eugene is a perfectly respectable name! Ralph? Carl? Louis? Ares? Castor?”

Newt watched the bloody beast ignore him, refusing every name as it had for the last month. If Newt tried a name out the beast ignored him.

“I’m running out of names,” Newt sighed, resting his hand in his palm and peering at the back of the direwolf’s head accusingly.

“What are you doing darling?” His mum called and Newt sat straight, turning to watch as she came down the ladder. The direwolf sat up, ears pointed forward and alert but not snarling.

“Working,” he replied easily sitting up from his spot on the ground and wiping the dirt off his backside.

“It sounded more like complaining,” he mother replied lightly, peering at his messy work desk. Newt hurried over to tidy it, always feeling like a little boy around his mother, even after all these years.

“I’m just trying to reason, is all,” he assured her and she moved on to peer out the study door, leaving it and entering the habitats.

The direwolf had slunk back into the forest but it lingered, peering at the new human with a weary curiosity.

“Did you need anything?” Newt asked curiously, his mum didn’t come into his suitcase very often.

“No dear, I was just interested to see what you were spending all day doing,” she replied mildly and Newt made an immediate note to spend more time with his mother.

“This is your direwolf then?”

“Yes, Eugene is his name.”

The beast snorted, turning his head away.

“I don’t think it suits him,” his mum mused and Newt huffed out before letting his shoulders drop.

“He’s being very stubborn about it.”

“Well both you and your brother have questionable ideas on what is a proper name.” She took a few careful steps towards the beast, giving it plenty of room. Newt trusted his mother; she had worked with Hippogriffs for decades and knew how to act around powerful creatures.

“He seems like a Perseus to me,” she finally proclaimed and the direwolf turned to look at her, ears cocked high in interested.

“Now, show me your Occamys, I’m curious how they’ve developed since I last saw the eggs.”

 

Once his mother was gone Newt went about feeding his beasts, the direwolf was trailing after him as usual.

Leaning on the Occamy nest, Newt peered back at the dark beast watching him.

“Perseus?”

The direwolf’s ears lifted and his head rose a touch, locked on Newt keenly.

“Wonderful, I’ll never hear the end of this,” he sighed but settled into calling his new friend by the name he clearly preferred.

 

Perseus warmed to Newt with time, bumping into his legs and laying down beside him, he no longer snapped or snarled. His leg healed up and Newt tended it to dedicatedly, careful to watch so Perseus didn’t do himself any more harm.

The other creatures continued to give him a wide berth. Perseus never took to them either, preferring to keep to Newt than get used to the other creatures. However he never turned hostile with any of them, never tried to eat any of the smaller ones. Despite that, they all seemed at odds with one another, the other creatures aware of Perseus in a strange way.  

Because of that, the direwolf was very protective and possessive over Newt. A bit like Pickett but with at least three hundred pounds on the tiny bowtruckle. When Newt was in the suitcase the direwolf was his shadow, following him everywhere and always wanting attention. He seemed uncannily good at knowing when Newt would give it and when he was busy.

 

Newt wrestled his best, he struggled under the direwolf, attempting to roll left but pinned too tightly for it to work. With a gasping laugh he finally slumped, the great beast over him knocking its cold nose at his face.

“Alright! You’ve won, oh mighty lord!”

Perseus let him up and Newt didn’t get beyond his hands and knees before he was being knocked over again, the creature rough housing with him as they rolled in the dirt. The direwolf played like a puppy, bouncing and jumping in excitement.

“Goodness,” Newt chuckled, digging in his fingers to scratch under Perseus’ ears for him. The direwolf pushed into the contact and Newt smiled, attempting to get up and finally the beast seemed to let him, watching Newt get up on his hands and knees to rise.

That was until he was over Newt again.

At first he thought he was about to be yanked over once more but then powerful forepaws curled around Newt’s middle and a firm pressure rubbed against his backside.

“Oh, oh dear,” Newt’s face flooded red at Perseus humped at him, trying to find the right angle to get into the human under him.

When he let go, Newt slumped to the dirt, biting his lip and feeling a bit overheated suddenly.

When he glanced up at the great beast over him, he noted the pink tip of Perseus’ cock hanging from its sheath. Newt felt a sudden urge to offer himself up. 

His mother calling him broke him from his staring and he scrambled up from the dirt, hurrying to meet her before she came down into the case.

 

Late into the night, when he was certain his parents were asleep and he would be left alone, Newt snuck back into his suitcase.

Feeling decidedly dirty, he stripped down, his vest and suspenders, trousers, shirt and union suit. The cool air of the artificial night of the habitat made his skin raise and Newt could see Perseus watching him across the way. Newt was in the study room, the door left open enough to see and be seen. Slinking from the shadows of the trees, head down and gold eyes shining, Perseus was locked on him.

It was silly, but Newt pulled his shirt back on, feeling a bit more secure mildly covered. It was like a strange game, a back and forth made up in his mind he thought with a chuckle. Settling against the cot with his feet on the floor and spread out, Newt bit his lip, watching his cock fill out and feeling those eyes on him.

Fetching a jar with a nice soft smelling mix of his own making, Newt took a generous scoop and moved to the very edge of the cot, thighs spreading a bit more as he reached passed his own erection and down over his hole.

It had been awhile since he’d wanted it like this, not since Apollo maybe. Every other creature had decided it wanted Newt and he’d responded but this didn’t feel like that for some reason. Newt was aware of just how much he wanted the Direwolf, more than the others. He hadn’t even tried to dissuade him. Instead he was teasing the beast, pressing shaky fingers into himself and muffling little whimpers.

Once he was open enough Newt fumbled for the carving, a sleek wood phallus that he struggled to press into him. Leaning back on the cot he huffed and pushed the carving harder, feeling his slippery hole begin to give and then suddenly, open up.

Newt hissed, slipping off the cot and kneeling on the floor, setting the carving against the ground so he could sink back on it slowly.

Newt didn’t get very far, halfway down maybe, before he was coming. He fumbled, taking himself in hand and managing a few shaky strokes as he came.

Newt sucked in a weak breath and nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized Perseus was right beside him, not a foot away. Few creatures snuck up on him like that, not after so long wandering along in the wilderness.

“Merlin,” he breathed, face red as he shifted and his thighs trembled, gripping the carving as it slid a touch deeper.

“I’m afraid I’ll need a bit more stretching to fit you,” he told the beast, watching Perseus stalk into the tiny study room and sniff at the floor, Newt’s semen.

It was erotic to watch him lick it. It shouldn’t have been but the direwolf was looking right at him, something in his gaze so heavy. He moved his great head closer and was lapping at Newt’s thighs, warm breath and long wet tongue sliding up more and more. Newt rested a shaky hand on the beast’s neck and shivered, chewing his lip as Perseus cleaned him, licked his soft cock and tried to get under, at his hole.

Newt sat up, back on the edge of the cot, thighs spreading wide and the carving fell on the floor as Perseus licked Newt out. That wet long tongue over his hole, over and over, unrelentingly until he was whimpering. Newt grew hard and took himself in hand, stroking in time with each touch. Perseus seemed so focused, more than any beast before him.

Newt came with a cry and Perseus licked his cock and hand clean.

 

Each night, Newt spelled the case shut so no one could come in. Each night, Newt rode the carving, deeper and deeper. At some point Perseus would come along and then he was licking Newt and making him come at least twice.The strange thing was he never tried to mount, as if he knew Newt couldn’t take him just yet. The direwolf was satisfied to lick Newt.

“It’s a bit scary, how intelligent you are, I keep expected you to just start talking,” Newt whispered one night, fingers buried in the direwolf’s thick fur.

 

It was a week into their nights when Perseus finally mounted him properly.

The long wide tongue all over his thighs was incredibly erotic and Newt thought he might come from the sensation alone. He didn’t even need to touch himself. He was down on his hands and knees and when Perseus licked a long line up the length of his cock and over his balls, all the way over his hole he shivered.

“Oh dear, you’re very good at this.” Newt panted a bit, face red. The beast seemed to almost pause and then he was licking with renewed vigor, over Newt’s shaft and along his hole, over and over until Newt was pressing his head to the ground and whimpering.

They were in the habitat Newt had made for the direwolf. He’d been checking on the Thunderbird egg and then Perseus was sniffing at his backside and suddenly Newt was on his knees with his trousers down, stripped so the beast had access.

Newt mumbled the spell to lock the case, it was midday but he had locked it before, while he was working with a dangerous creature or delicate potions.

“Oh my,” Newt pressed his face into the dirt and curled his toes, backside rising up as Perseus licked right over his rim. He was loose enough that the sensation would pull at his hole a touch.

Newt had thought a few more days with the carving but when Perseus moved over his back, he was going quickly to help. Summoning his wand he muttered a quick spell to slick his body for mating.

Sure enough, Perseus was curling his thick forearms around Newt’s middle and the wet pointed tip of his cock was searching. Fumbling, Newt rose up a bit off his knees, helping the direwolf line up.

Newt made a terribly embarrassing sound when Perseus caught, the tip sinking into his body. The loose paws on his middle suddenly went breathlessly tight and then Newt was being impaled, unable to pull away as the direwolf slammed into him.

It felt so massive and as the beast immediately rode him, Newt knew it was actually engorging inside him. Filling out to lock them together.

Like the beasts before him, Perseus worked like a creature possessed. A single-minded focus to breed, that all feral creatures seemed to share, an intense need to fill Newt as full as he could be.

Newt whined, panting already as Perseus just kept going, hard lunges and tight paws keeping Newt in place. The cock pushing and pulling out of him felt big and it was only growing, making Newt shiver.

He barely touched himself before he was coming, sobbing out as the beast on top of him took Newt, made him his mate, tried to breed him up.

The knot thickened so fast and then a jolt of pain made him scramble back, trying to keep Perseus buried in him. The direwolf panted and shifted, paws finally loosening as Newt was tied with him, the knot buried snugly. 

The direwolf’s paws let go of his middle and the beast twisted suddenly turning. Newt fumbled to follow and then stay still, feeling the knot actually turning inside him as Perseus flipped around, backside to backside with the knot keeping them together.

Newt closed his eyes and shivered, down on his hands and knees, locked with this magnificent creature.

“I think I might want to have your puppies,” he muttered softly. His lovers always checked a few days after mating for any signs of young, but Newt had never tried to carry before. The Occamy and the Thunderbird were his first children. He wondered if it was because he was older now. But Newt wanted to carry little ones, he wanted Perseus to place a litter inside him.

A little pack of direwolves for them to raise.

The knot pulsed inside him and Newt sighed, languid fingers reaching to stroke his cock until he was hard again, soon after he was whimpering as he came, clenching on the cock trapped inside him.

 

Every night without fail, Perseus came looking and every night, without fail, Newt let him.

After their third night mating Newt finally just transfigured himself a small wooden plug, just the right size to stop the constant run of direwolf semen from his body for the rest of the night and into the morning.

 

He would check on his nest and egg, right before bed, the plug in place inside him as Peruses trailed after, radiating a smugness Newt didn’t rightly understand.

Still the direwolf trotted at his side always and when Newt slept, Perseus was curled up with him. His fur was soft and he radiated heat, Newt curled up on him, head pillowed in the comfort and he slept better than he ever recalled. His direwolf would have it no other way, trailing after Newt.

That was what finally lured the creature from the suitcase, his protective need to keep an eye on Newt.

He slunk the halls of Newt’s family home and wandered the fields of the manor. He surprisingly never bothered the Hippogiffs, never interested in them or the traps set in the woods to catch small game to feed them.

Instead, he stole Newt’s sandwich and gobbled it down as the man chased him shouting.

“Thief!” He cried, wrapping his arms around Perseus great neck and wrestling him in the grass, the sunlight warm on his skin as they played.

Perseus never tried to mate Newt outside the suitcase, never sniffed at him when someone was around. Once when his mum visited him late into the evening in the suitcase, Perseus surprised him by lying down to rest on his own, leaving Newt be.

They had always mated every night until then and the Direwolf seemed to know.

Something heavy settled in Newt’s stomach.

 

Theseus was surprised to see him but he greeted Newt with a warm hug and eagerly took his offering of lunch.

“I do like when mum sends the good stuff,” he commented and Newt smiled, watching his brother eat at his desk with his office door open, other aurors meandering about.

He noticed the way they moved, caution so trained into them that even at ease they watched every step, alert at all times. Eyes glancing around every corner, taking in every person who came and went. Categorizing.

Horrified, Newt realized why it stood out to him.

Perseus did it as well.

 

Newt put it off until the evening, as late as he could.

When Perseus came looking for him he smiled, feeling weak but certain. He didn’t undress for his lover; instead he pulled his wand and cast a simple spell.

A long line of letters appeared in the dirt, hovering and waiting, Perseus stared at them intently.

“Can you tell me your name?”

The direwolf’s ears perked forward and he spun, pacing on the spot, a new energy vibrating off of him.

Eyes locked on the letters he moved forward.

Newt hoped, a part of him truly hoped. Perseus had felt so different, had felt more than the other creatures before him, those who had mated with Newt. It felt as if he might not move on one day. Newt had thought perhaps he would spend his years with the direwolf, never marrying, forever living as that weird wizard with a pack of puppies following him.

But inside, deep down, Newt always knew.

He would be alone.

Always left behind in the end.

He wiped the tear before it could fall as his direwolf spelled out ‘Percival Graves’ over and over.

Newt took him to Theseus immediately, explaining and watching his brother look baffled and then incredulous and then slowly growing more alert and excited.

Percival Graves was admitted into the St. Mungo’s hospital and a week later, the curse trapping him was broken and he was restored to his human form.

 

“Merlin Newt, we’d have never known. They would have killed him that day he appeared at the MACUSA security department,” Theseus muttered.

Newt peered through the small window in the door, looking at the man sleeping on the crisp sheets. Nothing about him reminded Newt of Perseus.

“I imagine that was the point. He couldn't escape his animagus form after all.”

“Grindelwald, that bastard,” he brother growled and Newt could see Percival Graves waking, eyes fluttering open.

He looked away.

“I have to go now,” he announced, surprising Theseus.

“There’s a rare breed of viper horntails and they only mate once forty years and tomorrow is the beginning, I really must be there, it’s too rare to pass up,” he blurted.

“You’ll take care of Pers-… I mean, you’ll make sure he's ok, that he gets home safe and all that?”

Theseus was staring at him, clearly seeing through the bullshit but not able to understand why Newt was escaping.

“Of course,” he finally agreed and Newt flashed a bright smile before walking away, doing everything in him not to run.

He should have stayed really. He should have stayed and asked Percival Graves to keep his secrets. He wasn’t sure if the man’s mind would clear and how much he would recall. If he remembered Newt admitting to having many beastly lovers or if he would simply recall fucking Newt himself. He could ruin Newt, the publisher would pull his book that had just been released, his family would be ashamed.

But Newt still ran. He ran as fast and as far as he could, throwing himself deep into the amazon rainforest and losing contact with the world.

He wondered if a year would be long enough. Maybe two.

 

His thunderbird egg hatched a month in and Newt let it take over his life, dedicating everything to caring for his little chick. He spelled the direwolf habitat back into one meant for a thunderbird. Newt didn't let himself linger as Perseus' home faded away. Instead he focused himself on his little one and tried to forget his direwolf.

 

Newt was forced home eight months after leaving, his mother insisting he return for the Christmas holidays. There had never been any mention of Newt being slandered in their letters so he assumed Percival Graves had kept his secrets.

His mother hugged him tightly when he returned and he father pulled him in for a quick hug. They both praised him for his book, which was unexpectedly becoming very popular.

Theseus lifted Newt right off the floor, swinging him in his arms.

“Let’s not do that again,” he whispered in Newt’s ear. It was clear he meant the time, Newt had never stayed away by choice for that long before.

He nodded his head and let his family lead him into the house, chattering on what he missed in the wizarding world. In return Newt talked at length about his infant Thunderbird, the tiny adorable thing with a fluffy down coat and great wide eyes. They discussed his book as well and Newt felt something bright and warm in his chest when he learned Hogwarts had requested copies to use in thier classes, several wizarding schools had also inquired. His parents looked so proud and Newt felt a great warmth in his chest, smiling with them, glad to be home.

The evening wound down and his parents left for bed when the midnight hours crept in. Theseus stayed with Newt in the study, the fire roaring in front of them as they sipped a fine whiskey.

“He’s asked about you. Percy did. Numerous times. Request to know when you came back, said he wants to thank you.”

Newt pressed the glass tumbler to his mouth and hummed noncommittally. He could feel his brother watching him and yet Newt wasn’t ready yet.

He wasn't sure he ever would be.

“It’s not like you to run,” his brother finally huffed but left him be.

Or at least Newt thought he had.

Percival Graves showed up a week later, knocking on their door and politely greeting his mother. She spoke to him with an air of someone who knew the man. Newt was around the door to the study, spying and half thinking to escape.

“He stayed here, for a few months after, recovering. Waiting for you to come back I think,” Theseus whispered behind him, making Newt start. They watched their father also greet the man and a firm hand closed around Newt’s elbow. Theseus would drag him to the door if he had to, determined to see them reunited for whatever reason.

Percival Graves looked nothing like a great dark dire wolf but when his eyes locked on Newt, Perseus was there, looking at him.

It brought him up short and Newt stumbled through a greeting, eyes locked on their shoes. When they shook hands Percival held on too long, holding Newt’s hand in his own warm one and almost seeming to silently beg for Newt to look at him properly.

Newt couldn’t look up.

Dinner was a terrible affair.

His parents and brother kept the conversation going, asking about Percival’s work and various other appropriate questions. The man answered them all but it was clear he was distracted. It was also bluntly obvious he was fixated on Newt, staring every chance he could. Newt was no better, glancing up the few times the man wasn’t looking at him, trying to find Perseus.

Once dinner was over, Newt excused himself, stepping outside for some air.

Percival came looking for him shortly after, stepping out into the gardens seeking him. Newt pressed against the tree he was tucked under and considered hiding.

“I’ll leave,” the man announced, voice quiet and resigned. Newt felt his shoulders slump in guilt.

“It’s ok,” he called, stepping away from the evening shadows and into the light from the windows.

“I don’t want…” the man hesitated and then seemed frustrated by it. “I’m not trying to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” Newt replied quickly and the man spared him a blunt disbelieving look. “It’s just… strange to look at you and see Perseus.”

That drew him in, Percival coming closer to him, moving slowly like Newt was a scared animal. “It’s strange to see you.”

“Me? Why would I be strange?”

“You look different, smaller and your features are clearer.”

“Wolves rely on scent more that vision,” Newt responded before thinking, the words sinking in and his stomach plummeted. Wide eyed he glanced at the man’s face and Percival was staring at him so intently, inching closer steadily and Newt realized he was backing away. He made himself stand still and let Percival reach him.

“Your memory... of m-me is clear?” He couldn’t help but ask, for some reason Newt was certain it would be fuzzy, that the human part of him wouldn’t remember. Percival hadn’t told anyone so Newt assumed it was because he didn’t know.

“I remember you, the way you smelled and how you laughed,” he was inches from Newt, pressing in closer as Newt’s poor heart threatened to beat right out of his chest.

Careful fingers touched his hand and Newt started, staring down as Percival’s fingers carefully entangled with his own.

“I can remember you, how kind and calm you were, forgiving when I hurt you, patient when I wasn’t.”

Percival was almost against him, barely any room left as his mouth was near Newt’s ear. Swallowing weakly, Newt realized he was trembling terribly.

“You felt good, warm and tight.”

Newt made a small sound shaking his head and trying to step back but a hand closed on his waist, holding him.

“You’re mine,” Percival growled and Newt blinked, looking up at him and seeing his wolf staring back intently.

 

Percival had been imprinted in a sense, his feral instincts pushed forward in a way that would never fade. He could control it; he harnessed it and used it to make himself sharper, more on balance and aware of everything. People found him unnerving and eerie, some part of them sensing a predator lurking. He returned to his job as Director of Security stronger than before. While in the public eye the man managed it all but once the doors were closed he gave in to his instincts.

He pressed up against Newt often, rubbed his cheek to Newt’s in greeting and licked at his neck. He marked Newt with his scent and saliva. When he was human, Percival preferred to come on Newt rather than in him. Wet sticky lines of come on his stomach or back, the man rubbing them in absently, marking him, always finding some way to claim him. He left love bites on Newt’s neck and when they were in public his hands lingered on Newt’s hip or the small of his back.

The direwolf preferred to knot him.

They never had a proper talk about it, about morals or laws. Percival would shift more than he ever had before, he admitted. He found the form comforting now, soothing. So he would wander around the apartment as a huge beast. Newt never once found it unnerving and he supposed that was why they fit together so well, he was at ease with beasts far more than people after all.

Still, the direwolf would come looking and before Newt could really think about it, he was going on his knees, bending over and taking his mate’s knot.

“Oh Merlin,” he panted, voice a bit hoarse from moaning. He was firmly knotted, the fat pulsing thing buried deep inside him. Percival hadn’t turned off his back either, he stayed above him, licking at Newt’s neck.

When he turned his head to the side that long wet tongue ran over his lip. Newt let his mouth fall open and licked back, kissing the direwolf hungrily as the knot filled him.

He whimpered when the knot slid free, the warm wet seed gushing from his trembling body.

Newt dropped his body to the bed, blankets soaked in sweat and seed as he shivered. The direwolf shifted and the tingle of magic shifted in the air. A human body moved over him, Percival pressing kisses to Newt’s neck as he pushed into him.

When he shifted forms they had learned, Percival’s body was almost refreshed. The man could take Newt and come on him and then the wolf would be ready to knot him, when he changed back the human was ready to go again. They had managed six times before Newt was too sore but Percival seemed determined to pushed passed the previous number.

He growled at Newt’s neck when he moved under him, squirming away as Percival pushed into Newt’s poor body. This was their fifth time and Newt was exhausted. He was soaked in semen both on and in him. His thighs shivering as Percival slid into him lazily, enjoying him spread out and at his mercy.

“Pups,” he grumbled and Newt whined in answer, nodding his head weakly. The direwolf mated to procreate and Percival freshly shifted after a mating was still in his mindset a bit. “Gonna give you my pups,” he muttered, pushing in a bit more quickly.

They had been playing with the idea for a bit now. Of Newt having the direwolf’s offspring. Part of him wanted a litter of little ones but another logical side of him insisted it would be wiser to have a proper human baby. A child they could raise as their own openly and never have to hide or worry about. Newt liked the idea of the direwolf breeding him, but he knew, in the end, they would have a human child. Although it would be fascinating to see what sort of child an animagus wolf bore with a human partner.

There were years yet for that though. The thunderbird chick was still young and Newt doted on his child. Percival had taken well to her, his human side more accepting of the other creatures while his wolf remained at odds, a strange worry in the beast that they might try and steal his mate away. But even the direwolf had taken the thunderbird chick, Emily, as his own.

Newt melted a bit inside when he watched them, the direwolf spread out in the dirt with the thunderbird perched on top of him, snuggling into his warm fur. She seemed to sense Percival was Newt's mate, her adoptive father of sorts. In his human form as well, Percival took to fathering Emily with a seriousness few people would have. He knew how much the creatures, how much Emily herself meant to Newt and it only left him warm to watch them. 

 

“Hello pretty,” Percival breathed against his neck, pressing a lingering kiss in greeting before stepping back. Newt smiled at him, watching Percival’s scarf and coat slip off his body and into the closet as the man followed him down the apartment hall.

“I do wish you’d give that embarrassing nickname up,” he sighed without any real intent. “I’m certain Tina heard you call me that yesterday.”

“I can’t help it,” Percival shrugged as they made their way to where dinner was waiting for them. “You never said your name properly when we first met and all I could think about as a wolf was how pretty you were.”

“I don’t think a human man should have been 'pretty' to a wolf.”

“You were,” he insisted, winding arms around Newt and pulling him back against him, pressing his scent to Newt in a way that never failed to endear. “The sunlight in your hair and the way you were so calm and certain, even as a wolf I knew I wanted you, that you would be the perfect mate.”

Mate.

Newt was mildly certain Percival’s direwolf had formed a bond with him because of the matings. Wolves mated for life after all and Percival was strongly connected with his animagus form. Theseus had insisted Percival had been devastated waiting for Newt to return when he had left, looking for him constantly. Enough so his brother invited Percival to finish recovering at their family home and even then, the man seemed to be ever waiting.

When they had finally reunited Percival took to courting him with a single-minded focus, insisting on being with Newt and refusing to let him shy away. He only backed off when Newt asked him too, the man’s shoulders slumping in a sad defeat as he obeyed. Too much like a beast Newt mused, he had never been able to stay upset at the man for long and they had fumbled their way into a relationship that had only grown. 

It was the bond that finally broke Newt, the idea that Percival was his mate, connected to him always. Beyond his feral behavior or the way his family liked the man, Newt knew the idea that Percival would never willingly leave was what finally made him allow himself to feel for the other man. They built a relationship together and before Newt could help it he was hopelessly lost, caught in that same drowning affection Leta had created in him once before when he was so young and foolish. But Percival was just as lost, just as pulled under. That was what let Newt give in, what made him follow the man to New York and move into his home, carving a place out for himself and his creatures. His book had done very well and he worked on new versions and was constantly requested to advise for MACUSA. For places all over the world even.

It should have been too much for him, all this change and Percival's endless attention focused on him, the way the animal slipped out in the human when he was around Newt. The fixation and determination that bordered on obsessive. Newt knew he should be put off but all he ever felt was warm and wanted.

Leta had taught him people could hurt you. Percival had assured him that creatures never would intentionally.