The Tribrid and Her Prison {COMPLETE}

Revenge Is Knocking

Everything was quiet over the next month.

No terrifying dreams or Wolfsbane burning Hope's tongue. During the day, they belonged to the school- doing what they could to help students learn. They'd begun approaching Hope with questions she had no idea how to answer, so she'd dig through the library with them.

At night, they belonged to each other.

Hope could still feel Albus' lips between her legs and Newt's tongue stroking her breast, but they'd kept to their word and only touched her. Never each other, but if she didn't know better, she could swear she saw an occasional glance that would make Albus' eyes flash and Newt blush.

Spooning a bit of porridge into her mouth, she looked over the Daily Prophet and rolled her eyes.

A photo of Hogwarts was on the front page, with dark clouds moving to make it appear dark and ominous. Next to the image was another of Albus standing in his office, looking a little surprised at the camera. To Hope, he looked shocked at the sudden flash of the camera he probably hadn't been expecting. Still, to others, he almost looked frustrated.

It didn't paint him in a good light.

"Have you seen this?" She asked Newt, who looked up from the letter he was writing and nodded with a solemn tight-lipped frown.

"I have," he nodded, "so has Albus. He wasn't expecting a full article or cameras when they asked to enter."

The article was about how the world should question the new Headmasters' lenience to having a 'hybrid' in the school where children were present. The article written weeks ago had circulated into the right sneaky hands. Soon after, many parents complained that she wasn't fit to be there.

It's been a back-and-forth battle ever since. Parents who were against her as faculty and parents who were for her. Many students raved about how wonderful she was, which made her heart swell. Naturally, some parents chose to listen to the media instead of their children's first-hand encounters with her.

"He's being dragged through the mud because of me." Hope muttered and tossed the paper aside, resting her chin on her arm.

Newt frowned and shook his head. "It wouldn't be the first time, and it won't be the last. His name itself has always attracted spectators, good and bad. This is just another hill to cross."

"More like a mountain."

After breakfast, they began walking toward the sparring room. Each Saturday since she'd gotten back, Hope decided she wanted to better learn how to protect herself. She had this speed and strength she couldn't always control. Hope tried to master it for her sake and for the sake of those she loved.

Unfortunately for Newt, he was the one least busy on Saturday. Her sparring coach, a ghost who had learned hand-to-hand combat in his living days, needed to watch her form with someone so he could adjust and critique her.

Upon entering the studio, they began right away. Hope worked on dodging; left, right, up, down, over and over in quick succession before delivering a punch to Newt's abdomen. She didn't leave a mark, of course; she was cautious. The idea wasn't to pulverize her poor boyfriend but to have the technique down so that if the time came, she could throw a few well-timed blows.

Hope had to admit, though, she was getting better each time they practiced. It was like her body knew how to move, she just needed to unlock it.

By the time the session was over, Newt and Hope both dripped with sweat and after a quick conversation with Nick, they made their way to their rooms, both intending to clean up.

"So, I was thinking..." Newt started, rubbing the back of his neck, "You know how we're in February now."

Hope raised a brow and nodded with a small smile. "Yes, it's...February 2nd. I'm aware." She glanced over at him, she could hear his heart racing. Hope couldn't remember him being this nervous since they first started innocently flirting.