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elianas-cozycorner · 1 year
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𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕿𝖔 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 | 𝕹𝖊𝖜𝖙 𝕾𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗
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Chapter One | Sweden
Summary: Several months after sharing a longing, intimate moment with your boss, Newt, you find yourself in the heart of a thrilling adventure.
Will chasing smugglers, taming dragons, and awkward family dinners be the key to pushing the two of you closer?
Author's Note: Here is the long awaited, long requested sequel to my fiction "Stumped"! Please, to all those who had previously enjoyed the story and requested this, accept my sincerest apologies.
I never knew how to continue the plotline until now. Rest assured, this multi-chapter fic will have everything you could ever desire! Depending on how this goes, I may change the rating. (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
Disclaimer: I have made this work non-compliant with canon for several reasons. Including a) lack of desire to be associated with films 2 & 3, b) for flow and story purposes, and c) because I do not condone J.K.R's behavior and wish to use my writing to bring joy despite the hurt she has caused.
Ao3 - General Audience Word Count: 1099 Warnings: None
"And so it was that you were left to sketch and think. It seemed that Newt was not the only one in a predicament, as confusion too clouded your mind. You were stumped. Stumped as to why Newt had seemed so pleased with your staring, why his smiling never ceased, and why he had chosen to keep you in his company after that. " - Stumped (2020)
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The air was hot, the wind scorching, and no relief could be found in any amount of water you carried. Despite the great altitude, no snow decorated the cliff faces and mountain peaks. Each breath only served to fuel coughing fits, what with the dryness and heavy musk of dragon. By all accounts, the world should have been covered in white, howling winds should have whipped ice across the craggy stone, and you definitely shouldn’t have been in a simple blouse and trousers. 
Yet, here you were. Wand drawn and a thin cloth covering your mouth, without any form of elemental protection. You’d always imagined your first trip to Sweden would be for recreation. Though, you supposed, searching for a smuggled Swedish Short-snout hatchling was more exciting than an office job at the Ministry.
“How are you fairing, darling?” A smooth, strong voice called to you.
You looked up at the man, watching him clamber up another outcropping of rock. Newt was in as much a state of discomfort as you were. His once voluminous curls fell, soaked with sweat, into his face, his shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbow, and the cloth he held to his face was grimy. However, there was a crinkle at the corner of his eye that told you just how much he was enjoying this. You couldn’t help but return his smile though he couldn’t see it. 
“Perfectly content, Mr. Scamander! I only wonder at the heat, it is unexpected!” You tried your best to keep your voice level. 
“She must be in distress,” He took a moment to catch his breath. “I haven’t seen any blue flames yet, so she is still a good way up.”
“I suppose she’s turned much of the mountain side up there black.” You caught up with him and leaned on him for support.
“And any foliage to ash,” There was a fondness in his voice. “It’s likely how she escaped her captors to begin with. Many smugglers are unprepared for the heat of a Short-snout’s fire.”
You nodded and flicked your wand. The charm was quick to take effect, cooling both of you instantly. You would not risk cleansing your attire or casting a verbal spell here. The sweat and dragon musk clung to your clothing like a natural camouflage. It would be hard for the dragon to detect you, much less so if you kept your spell-casting to a minimum. 
Newt thanked you once he’d finished taking a sip of water. The synthetic waterskin was enchanted to keep its contents cool and permanently full. He offered it to you shyly, bumping it against your hand gently. 
“Drink.” His voice was soft, gentle. He wouldn’t command you to drink against your will, but there was a heavy tone of suggestion there nonetheless. It was your turn to thank him.
You took the waterskin, careful not to let your touch linger too long. Ever since that day in the suitcase, when your eyes had met and the world slowed to a stop, things had been different. Awkward. It never hindered your work, never interfered with your capabilities in tending to and drawing Mr. Scamander’s creatures, but it was always there. For you, anyway. It didn’t seem as though Newt understood how wholly that moment changed things for you. He was too sweet, too gentlemanly, to think of it as anything other than a moment between friends. 
“Try to keep up, Mr. Scamander.” You forged ahead, unable to stand beside him for longer than was necessary. 
Eventually, your trek up the mountainside proved fruitful. Newt once again led the way up. The heat only worsened, but that was to be expected when the stone underfoot was blackened and cracked. Any plants that may have grown from crevices in the rock were turned into small piles of ash, blown about by the wind. Which, as it happened, was not wind at all. The second thing to catch the eye of one Mr. Newt Scamander, was the flurry of movement from above. He placed his hand out behind him, palm facing you, and brought a finger to his lips. Then he pointed up.
Above, on an outcropping of stone, giant wings beat the air and battered against the rocks. Occasionally, chunks of char and sediment were flung down or broke off. The sound of the dragon’s beating wings paired with the gusts of wind against your skin. You had not been listening to the rage of mother nature. Instead, it had been the hatchling. With a look of concern, Newt pulled out two sets of thick, rubbery gloves and black, sturdy goggles. No words were exchanged as each of you donned the new accessories. The fire-resistant material felt strange against the skin, but otherwise did not offer much inconvenience. Just as Newt turned to lead you up to the outcropping, a massive chain swung down. It rattled evilly, smacking down across several sharp protrusions, and barely missed the Magizoologist. 
Newt pressed himself flush with the mountain and tugged you with him. “Careful! She must have tangled herself up when landing.”
The chain rose up through the air once more and now it was obvious that with each attempt at flight, the flapping was accompanied by rattling and creaking. Before, you had watched the pretty, pale creature take off into the sky but now she was grounded. A plume of searing blue flame spread out and up into the sky. The smell of burnt hair caused your stomach to twist. 
Looking to the man currently under the employment of the ‘Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau’ you began, “Mr. Scamander–”
He said your name, “It’s Newt. Please. Newt is far shorter and works best in cases such as these.”
You started again, “Merlin’s beard! Alright, Newt. How do you propose we get up there?”
“It’s far too dangerous to go up now, she’ll knock us off or roast us.” He chuckled lightly. “But it’s too dangerous to leave her up there alone. Those chains have to come off.”
“How do you calm a Swedish Short-snout?” You leaned closer to him as another, smaller chain whips by. 
"You know," He looked at you. "I am not entirely sure."
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This is a positive post
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EVERYTHING IS OK ARE YOU HEAR ME??!?!?
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good morning bakery 🍞🥖
instagram | shop | commission info
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digital nomad.
follow me on instagram!
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BETTER FIND ANOTHER SUPERSTITION!
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same as it never was.
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+ other versions:
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demon that critically analyses the past actions you'd really rather forget
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