Could - Crewt

Chapter 5

I'm on vacation for a couple weeks, so I hope I don't forget to post. Halfway through, you guys! 5/10 chapters!

December 27, 1926

Absolutely not.

Credence is not going to fall for that.

Mr. Graves said the same thing. I want those things too, Credence. I want them for you.

And now, here Mr. Scamander is, telling him he doesn't want Credence as a man wants a woman, but as a man wants a man? Credence saw it coming from a mile away. How many times has he heard men walking by him on the street, saying, she's crazy, but she's a good lay. All the time.

If anything, he's surprised Mr. Scamander is so blatant about it, so open. So obvious. It makes Credence think he's genuine, or he wouldn't be so stupid about it. And then he thinks maybe Mr. Scamander's being stupid about it deliberately to get Credence to think he's genuine.

And then Credence thinks of how genuine and awkward Mr. Scamander always is, with his awkward smile and rambling sentences, offering to help again. And again. And again. And then he thinks the whole thing must be an act, of course, every moment of it an act. And then he wonders if he's even worth that much trouble.

And then he thinks of the men tramping around the streets at night, doing absolutely ridiculous things to get a lay.

I'd tell her the world was flat if it got me a night in that bed.

Around and around it goes.

But he seemed to mean it.

He seemed so nervous.

And he seemed so hurt, when Credence told him on no uncertain terms that he never wanted... that sort of thing with Mr. Scamander.

And he didn't seem angry. Not one bit. Not entitled or offended or cheated. He did not say after everything I've done for you or you owe me this much.

Newt Scamander said yes, of course.

And then he went right down into his case, without even looking at Credence or touching Credence or trying to change Credence's mind. He stopped at the top, and Credence had thought Mr. Scamander would come up and—

But only said the case is quite light, actually. He hadn't looked at Credence. Just stared down, down, meek as anything you'd ever seen. You can move it if you want me gone.

And snap, the case pulled up shut over him.

It's just words, he thinks. It doesn't mean anything. All day. All the next day. All through his evening's magic lessons with Tina—she doesn't hold out her hand and mingle their magic; she's here for the technical side. Spells are like this. These are some basics. Here's what you can and can't do.

In one ear and out the other.

Mr. Scamander walks by, case clutched tight in his hand, to the front door, off to who-knows-where, and Credence forgets he's even in a lesson.

Mr. Scamander doesn't look at him.

Mr. Scamander comes back, looking a bit disturbed and pink from the cold. He doesn't look Credence's way then, either.

Or the next day, or the next. It isn't a cold shoulder. Mr. Scamander is not shunning him; Credence can feel it. No, Mr. Scamander, other than not looking at Credence, is very caring, still.

He cooks Credence eggs when it becomes clear Credence isn't a fan of oatmeal—not Tina's anyway. He washes the dishes and cleans and offers Credence books to read and money to go enjoy himself, and a nice hat if he'd like to go looking for that job, and he makes Credence hot cocoa. Mr. Scamander asks him how his lessons with Tina are going and he listens as if these aren't things he learned when he was scarcely old enough to read.