Gramander Oneshots

A Niffler's Intuition

"There you go," Newt Scamander said, tone cheerful as he supplied the tree with fresh lice. "Want to join them?" He asked the lone Bowtruckle that peeked its tiny head out of his shirt pocket to peer at his kin. He knew the answer would be a no, but he tried every time they came to the tree to feed them nonetheless. Proving his intuition, Pickett shook his head and hunkered back down into his safe place, finding comfort in the steady beat of his Mum's heart and being surrounded by the warm fabric. Sighing half-heartedly, Newt went to move onto the next habitat—the nest of Occamy hatchlings that were ready for their own feeding—when the feeling of his leg being grasped led him to look down and find his Niffler with all four of its limbs wrapped around his shin, beady eyes peering up at him. "What do you think you're doing? You haven't stolen anything, right?"

All he got in response were a few innocent bats of the Niffler's eyes. "Right." Not finding anything distracting about the Niffler being there, he continued in his errands of caring for every single thing in his suitcase from the Erumpents to the Graphorns, and the Mooncalves to the Nundu, and so on until he was sure he wasn't needed anymore. Of course, his creatures all held a special love for their caretaker, but the man himself refused to believe that he could hold such a high position in their eyes. He did the same thing with humans, severely underestimating himself, and his husband found this to be very wrong of him, so he loved to praise Newt as much he could without making the redhead uncomfortable, and he loved to whisper sweet nothings into his ear about how incredible of a human being he was.

Stepping back up into his shed with a relieved sigh, he set the metal buckets in his hands down next to the door with a clang and brought his full attention to the Niffler who was still attached to his leg. "Do you want something?" He asked as if it could respond, sitting himself down on the stairs so that he faced out into the magical expanse of his suitcase while running a hand over its black fur. Snout twitching, the creature scurried up the rest of his long leg and across his lap. Curious, Newt watched as the Niffler met the hem of his dress shirt and scuttled up under it, curling up next to his stomach. "Are you cold? Are you sick?" Newt asked, quickly becoming worried at the odd behaviour enough to quickly stand, holding his hand beneath the lump under his shirt so it wouldn't fall out as he hurried to his work desk. Reaching up the bottom of his shirt, he brought the Niffler out and placed it on the table, preventing it in its attempt of getting back under before bringing his wand out from his front pocket to cast a bunch of diagnosing charms he'd learned through his years of practise to try and figure out if his creature had any sort of ailment.

When everything came back negative, he was relieved but still confused as the Niffler still seemed intent on getting back to where it was, pushing its little snout at his waist. "All right, but I don't know what you want under there. Hold on a moment." Moving to the other side of the table, the Niffler pawed its way after him, jumping over the piles of papers and books that littered the surface as if it were some obstacle course. Sifting through one of the piles, he drew a black leather-bound book from the bottom of one, the title advertising it as a complete guide to Nifflers, and brushed off the dust that had begun to settle on it. Hopping atop the book before he could lift it, the Niffler ran up his arm at an impressive speed and jumped up to the top of his head. Nuzzling under the auburn hair, he curled around himself and settled down contentedly. "You've never been this smitten with me before," the man mused, trying to keep his head as straight as possible so the creature wouldn't slide off.

Tucking the book against his side with his elbow, he checked to make Pickett was still okay before ascending the ladder that led out of his suitcase, nearly falling when he had to use his only free arm to push the top open but remaining stable after shooting his hand back around one of the rungs. Exhaling with relief, he remained halfway up the ladder for a moment before emerging into his bedroom that he shared with Percival. He could remember his then-boss' confession to him one day at work and he'd been completely taken aback, although the rest of the workers in the Department, including Tina, seemed rather relieved. Newt had been scratched in the face by a particular creature involved with one of their cases and he hadn't even noticed his injury as he was completely involved in helping the scared animal, so when he casually strolled into Director Graves' office to report on the creature, he was confused when the man shot up from his position behind his desk and zipped to stand in front of him.