The serpent's heir

The case of beasts

There was something wrong with Tom. Fundamentally. And, as much as he might deny it, the cracks that steadily grew larger as time went on were leaving wholes too big for him to fill.

Like an artist, Tom painted a picture of confidence and power as soon as he could hold a paintbrush. Strokes of blue and white built up once solid walls around everything fragile and weak inside of him. But those walls might as well be China in the hands of Adrian Scamander. Arms in which he somehow felt both protected and vulnerable.

And these cracks in his China walls meant more weakness, more pain.

But where he couldn’t seem to fix them, Adrian made him wonder if perhaps they didn’t need repairing at all.

Which is where the problem lay.

In this house, a home that wasn’t his; within four walls painted blue and white, a room that wasn’t his; pressed against a pillow of flesh and wrapped in arms that weren’t his.

Every logical part of Tom screamed at him to move away, to run away, terrified of the consequence of last nights actions.

And yet he didn’t have the will to be anything other than illogical at the moment.

So instead, he lay there, panicking but also perfectly at ease. Because Tom was smart. He played chess enough to know that the light side always made the first move.

Eventually, Adrian did move. It was hours later, when the sun had long risen and the moon had left, but Tom heard the boys heart pick up and his breath catch in surprise. Although he arms around him squeezed the Slytherin before letting go, one hand brushing a dark curl behind his ear as the other lifted Adrian up and off of the bed. Footsteps echo into the fuzzy silence of the morning, and the door creaked closed behind Adrian as he left.

Waiting a moment to ensure that Adrian was actually gone, Tom also got up and tidied up his appearance before heading down to the kitchen. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge how that all made him feel. So he didn’t. Instead choosing to engage Mrs Scamander (“Please, just call me Tina.”) in an interesting conversation about the difference in wizarding education in Britain and America.

That was until Adrian appeared in the kitchen a little later, his face flushed and his hair wet from a bath, and then all Tom could think about was how good the boys hugs were and whether or not the youngest Scamander was going to keep Tom’s secrets between them.

“Adrian, good morning, sweetheart.” Tina smiled, warm and kind. Her hair had gone slightly curly in the humidity of the room, and yet she still managed to look put together in a way that made Tom knew would make Abraxas envious. Unlike her son, Tina Scamander only ever seemed to lose control of herself around her family and loved ones, whereas Adrian never bothered controlling himself in the first place. He was much like his father in that sense – from what Tom had gathered at least. Because, where Tina was calm and collected, Newt Scamander was anxious and scatter-brained.

“Morning, mum!” Adrian chirped, reaching over Tom’s shoulder from where he sat, table embedded into the wall between the kitchen and living room. The Slytherin tensed up at the intrusion into his personal space, but quickly relaxed when he realised that Adrian’s hand had grabbed an orange from the fruit basket, and was not intended to touch or hurt him. “Hello Tom.” Adrian spoke, his tone less loud, and yet still just as happy. He had a smile on his face that reassured Tom instantly. He knew now that Adrian wasn’t planning on telling anyone anything. His walls were safe in the hands of this unruly Lion. “Good morning.” Tom replied, a small smile making its way onto his face in response to his relief. Something of which was noticed by Adrian and returned tenfold in a grin that was all teeth.