Catastrophe || n.s

vi. a giver

Penelope, now fully dressed thanks to Queenie Goldstein, kept towards the back of the group as Newt led them into his magical suitcase, too busy with the swirling thoughts in her mind to listen to their conversation. Jacob walked beside Queenie, the Demiguise scurrying alongside him, holding his hand. Tina was near the front, beside Newt, the teapot that contained the shrunken Occamy still held tightly in her hands.

As the others exited the small wooden building in which they entered the magical world full of Newt's beasts, Penelope stayed behind. She had to be alone for a moment, to think about what had happened only minutes before.

She had transformed into a wolf, something that she had no idea she had the ability to do. Newt had told her that she really was magic, that her powers had only needed to be triggered by something, which seemed almost unbelievable. Though she knew better than to think that, as she had learned many things she didn't know about the wizarding world in the past twenty-four hours.

But for some reason, she just couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she really was magical, and that she had the ability to morph into an animal. For some reason, that simple thing was hard to believe.

Penelope was snapped out of her train of thought at the sound of an old wooden floorboard creaking from in front of her. She looked up from her feet, startled by the sudden noise, only to see Newt standing in the doorway of the tiny building. He stared at her with concerned blue eyes, his hands stuffed awkwardly into the pockets of his trousers.

"Didn't notice you weren't with us until we were by the Occamy nest," he commented quietly, his eyes flickering between her and the ground. "For a moment, I thought you didn't come with us. I thought you left."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Mr. Scamander," Penelope responded with a small smile. "I way too fascinated by you and your creatures. Besides, you have answers to a lot of questions that I'm looking for."

"If the questions are about your abilities, I'm afraid you're asking the wrong person," Newt told her, casting her an apologetic glance. "I don't know much about squibs turning magical- only the fact that the are able to." Silence then fell over the pair as they both looked to the ground, as if a magnetic force was pulling their eyes down. Penelope could feel the sudden tension between them, and she wondered what was going on.

Suddenly, Newt looked up to her once more, breaking the silence. "Did you really mean what you said back at the department store?" He asked, his voice unusually timid. "About me being your trigger?"

Penelope smiled slightly, nodding. "You're the only person here who I would imagine being it," she told him, leaning back on the wooden table behind her.

This caused Newt to smile, an unreadable look stretching across his face as he gazed at the woman. He suddenly took a step towards her; the two were so close together that Penelope began to notice things about the man that she hadn't noticed before; like the scar under his eye, for example, and the light freckles that dappled his cheeks and nose.

Newt's blue gaze seemed to burn into hers, and she felt herself heating into a blush under it. "You intrigue me," he murmured as he smiled crookedly. Then, as if he had only just realized what he said, he quickly backed away from her. He scratched the back of his neck in an awkward manner, reaching done and grabbing a metal bucket full of chopped up meat. "Well, come on, then. Why don't you come join us?"

With that, he quickly stumbled out of the room, leaving Penelope staring after the awkward man in confusion.

~

[ NEWT ]

Newt watched from a distance as Penelope Finch stood beside Jacob, talking to him quietly as the pair stared at the Goldstein sisters in amusement. Tina and Queenie were looking at the creatures around them in awe, their eyes wide and a smile on their faces.

Newt suddenly felt a jab on his chest, coming from inside the pocket on his breast. Chuckling lightly, he reached into the pocket and pulled out Pickett the Bowtruckle. The little green creature stared at him with its tiny arms crossed, soft angry noises coming from its mouth.

"Right, we need to talk," Newt said to the creature, sighing as Pickett only simply turned away from him. "I wouldn't have let him keep you, Pickett. I think I'd rather chop off my hand then give you up after everything you've done for me. Now, come on." Though the stubborn Bowtruckle still refused to looked at the British man.

"We talked about sulking before, haven't we?" Newt pried, amusement lacing his voice. "Pickett, come on, give me a smile." Finally, Pickett turned to look at Newt, though instead of smiling, the creature stuck out its tiny green tongue at him, blowing a raspberry. Newt only rolled his eyes, scoffing at the Bowtruckle. "Alright, now that is beneath you," he said with a sigh as he placed Pickett on his shoulder.

Queenie Goldstein suddenly appeared out of his supply shed, a small smile on her face as she looked over at Newt. "Hey Newt," she said, gaining the Brits attention from where he was busy grinding up a herb. "Who's she?" Queenie asked, gesturing inside the shed. Newt immediately knew who she was talking about, and he felt his heart drop at the mention of her.

"It's no one," he said simply, forcing a smile onto his face before looking back down at his work.

"Leta Lestrange," Queenie murmured after a moment of silence, causing Newt to mentally scold himself for forgetting that the witch could read minds. He didn't say anything, however, biting his cheeks as he forced himself to control his emotions.

"I heard of that family," Queenie continued, as if she enjoyed prying information off of the British man. "Aren't they kind of, you know..."

"Please don't read my mind," Newt said calmly, suddenly turning to look at the blonde woman. Queenie only pursed her lips, nodding simply as she looked away from him. Newt tried to continue working, though now that his mind was on the woman, he just couldn't seem to concentrate. He stopped what he was doing, closing his eyes for a moment. He could tell that Queenie Goldstein was still searching his mind, and he turned to her once more. "Sorry, I asked you not to."

"I know, I'm sorry," Queenie apologized, a guilty look crossing her face. "I can't help it... People are easiest to read when they're hurting."

"I'm not hurting," Newt reassured her with a forced smile, though he could tell she knew he was lying. "Anyway, it was a long time ago."

Queenie stayed silent for a moment, slowly stepping towards the awkward British man. This time, he didn't stop her from reading his mind. "It was a real close friendship you had at school," she observed quietly, and Newt nodded slowly.

"Neither of us really fitted in at school," he explained to the witch. "So we became real-"

"You became real close. For years," Queenie finished for him, her tone sounding almost as if she pitied him. Suddenly, her voice grew stronger, more confident as she said, "She was a taker. You need a giver."

As the blonde witch said this, her eyes traveled over to Tina Goldstein, who was observing the Bowtruckles in the tiny bamboo tree. Newt's gaze, however, turned to Penelope; his hurt immediately vanished as he looked at the blue-eyed girl, and he nodded slowly in agreement with Queenie.

"What are you two talking about?" Tina asked suddenly as she approached the pair, as she noticed that Queenie was staring at her from across the area. Newt forced his eyes away from Penelope, and looked at her.

"Nothing," he said quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up in a blush as Tina stared at him accusingly.

"School," Queenie answered her with a look of confusion towards Newt, who nodded at what she said.

"Yeah, school." As he said this, his eyes drifted back to Penelope Finch, his heart fluttering in a way that almost made him stand up and run over to the girl just to be in her presence.

Queenie was right; he needed a giver.