Their kiss changed things while they bizarrely also stayed the same. It was confusing for Petunia while simultaneously being the most wonderful time she could recall.
She would visit Ivy (Eugene) often, whenever she could get away from her parent's questioning gazes and Lily's loud presence in their shared room. When she went to bed at night her mind would be alight with images of magical sunshine, soft curls, wide grins, lush fields and careful touches that sent goosebumps across her skin and prickling bubbles into her bloodstream.
Most of their time was spent in the Occamy enclosure, either playing with Ivy and her siblings or simply taking walks through the forest surrounding their nest, Eugene pointing out small creatures hiding in burrows or flying above their heads. Newt Scamander's menagerie was vast and every creature seemed more magical and fantastical then the last. They would talk, about their families, about magic, about beasts but somehow they never discussed what they now meant to each other. Eugene would simply take her hand, brush a finger across her cheek or kiss her and Petunia revelled in his touch and attention like she had been starved for years. They didn't need any words.
The enclosure they spent almost as much time in was the one containing Eugene's Hippogriffs. He told Petunia that his grandmother had been breeding them all her life but his father refused to take up her mantle, letting the remnants and offspring of that original herd live out their days in his home instead.
Of course Eugene had a favourite and in the way he treated him, Petunia could see a reflection of her and Aspen. But instead of tightly-stretched skin, Hippogriffs were covered in a mixture of gleaming fur and downy feathers, their avian eyes bright and sharp, not milky-grey like Aspen's.
Eugene's favourite was named Icarus ("Way too pompous for my taste, but my uncle picked the name and I was too young to protest, not having mastered speech yet") and had russet-coloured fur and feathers, gleaming like the setting sun whenever he rustled them in a prideful display. After bowing to him and approaching him carefully, Icarus let Petunia pet his sharp beak and muscular neck, tolerating her attention while Eugene kept watch.
"He looks dangerous."
Eugene shook his head in mocking disagreement. "No, no, he looks comfortable, Petals. Look at that broad and soft back - no poking bones, no cold, slippery skin -"
Petunia interrupted him with a glare. "Aspen is not uncomfortable!"
At least not when she padded his back with enough blankets.
Eugene chuckled at the expression on her face, maybe able to guess the words she left unspoken, but before Petunia could protest further he had silenced her with a soft kiss that left her head empty.
She never tried to mount and fly his Hippogriffs and Eugene didn't urge her to try, sitting down in the shade and watching them swoop through the air with her instead.
They looked at other creatures. One time Eugene took her to feed the mooncalves, strange four-legged beasts with cup-sized, round eyes and a tiny mouth they used to pluck floating pellets out of the air. Another time he showed her the Nifflers with a warning to take tight hold of her braid ("If they try to steal your hair for nesting I'll do my best to save at least a few strands.") and it soon became obvious that this caution stemmed from personal experience. The mole-like creatures were swift and quite enamoured with Eugene's golden curls and the small buttons at Petunia's sleeves, trying to rip both off in increasingly sneaky attempts. Neither of them were able to completely stop them, Eugene's scalp and Petunia's wardrobe suffering for it. She wasn't sure which hurt worse.
They rarely encountered Newt Scamander in their wanderings, only crossing paths with him a few times in the corridors. Sometimes he'd have an absent minded greeting for them or a quick smile. But he never asked why Petunia was there or gave any sign of recognition and he never questioned why his son was holding her hand. Petunia couldn't really decide if she was relieved by the lack of attention or slightly insulted. It almost felt like the both of them didn't even register to him.
"He's occupied with the Nogtail," Eugene explained after another such encounter, noticing Petunia's frown while she looked at his father's back disappearing into the eternal twilight down here. "He just gets like this when there's a problem he's trying to solve."
Petunia tore her gaze away, redirecting it to the winding path in front of them. They resumed their walk while she pondered what Eugen had said on their way to another beautiful and fantastical creature he wanted to show her.
The Nogtail ... Petunia hadn't really thought about that creature since its unconscious form had disappeared into Newt Scamander's suitcase, but now the memory crawled back to the front of her mind, small, mean eyes and gleaming strings of saliva connecting a forest of teeth. "What problem?"
Eugene sighed, a rare occurrence. "He's trying to find a way to keep it alive without blighting a farmstead."
"Why?"
"Because that's just who my father is."
A very faint echo rippled through her thoughts, Newt Scamander's voice all those months ago: 'Nature is unfairly cruel to them'.
Petunia could not be called soft-hearted. If she disliked someone or something, that dislike penetrated through every aspect of their being and she wouldn't find anything to mitigate her opinion. When she thought of the Nogtail, she remembered Farmer Wilson's sunken face, the visible ribs of the innocent little piglets, Snowflake's watery eyes and her own panicked breathing.
No, she really didn't feel any sympathy for the creature responsible. But she could see why a man like Newt Scamander might - to him, the Nogtail was innocent of those crimes, because it was simply following its nature, just like a wolf could not be accused for killing a sheep that was unattended.
Maybe it was unfair of her to blame the Nogtail for its very being, but Petunia didn't care about fairness. Life had never been very fair to her either.
Eugene's next words confirmed her own thoughts about Newt Scamander. "To my father every creature is worth protecting. If he doesn't find a solution he will never be able to put a ban on Nogtail hunting. It's currently quite a popular pastime for wizard nobility and as they are technically helping solve a problem there is no chance of stopping them on petitions of undue cruelty."
"But if the Nogtails stop being a plight ..." Petunia didn't need to finish her words, Eugene already nodding.
"That's his hope, at least."
Petunia's mind flashed back to Farmer Wilson, his stringy, hay-coloured hair disordered because he tugged his shaking hands through it too often, the skin peeling from his nose because of a sunburn and the hollows under his eyes from too little rest and nourishment. "He won't just be saving the Nogtails."
"My father somehow quite often becomes an unwilling hero. Just like you."
Petunia shot him a questioning look, not bothering to voice her doubt.
"I remember when you told me about your attempt to chase him off," Eugene grinned. "Very heroic."
Petunia ignored his teasing, but Eugene wasn't that easily deterred. "Did you know that the Ministry also keeps a whole stable of albino dogs in case the nobles get bored of hunting? You could make a career out of it, if you nab that poodle."
Petunia scoffed. They wouldn't want her at that magical Ministry, not a muggle with no talents except a scathing tongue and home-cooked meals. "I don't think Mrs Francis would appreciate that."
"Hmm, you never know."
"Are you trying to get me to commit a felony?"
Eugene winked. "You know me too well."
Petunia narrowed her eyes but felt her mouth curve into a smile despite herself. "You're a menace."
"Who's the one with crimes under her belt?"
"Those are 'crimes' only in your world."
"Ah, but aren't our worlds overlapping by now?"
Petunia felt heat wash over her cheeks and silently cursed her complexion because she knew how sickly it looked when her skin was blotched with red. "Only the parts that suit me."
Eugene crowded a little closer, his voice lower and strangely intimate. "And am I suitable?"
Petunia refused to answer. "So what creature are you showing me today?"
Eugene laughed but let her get away with it, continuing to walk through the darkness as a steady warmth at her side.
It wasn't the last time they encountered Newt Scamander in the corridors, he was often hastening from one end to the other, papers and formulas clutched in his arms, but now Petunia didn't mind that his eyes never rested on them for more than a few blinks.
Instead of the burning sting of his disregard, she only felt a simmering curiosity if he'd made any progress concerning the Nogtail - and what his life as a Magizoologist must be like.
❀