Evanescent || Newt Scamander x Reader

8

AN: Quick history lesson before we get into this chapter.

In the 1910s-1930s, working in factories was a common but horrible job to have in New York. Workers were treated horribly, and in 1911, there was something called the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire that killed 146 and was the deadliest disaster of New York history. Even after the fire, factory conditions didn't improve much, and they didn't get a safety law passed until the 30s.

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That morning, Newt woke up when he heard ______'s voice standing at the door of the room. "Mister Scamander?" she called out, her voice bouncing through the nearly-empty room. At first, Newt didn't reply, just realizing he was waking up. "Mister Scamander, are you awake?" She asked again, this time in a lower voice.

Newt rose this time, stretching and opening his eyes. "I'm awake," he replied in a sleepy voice. "What is it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," ______ began. "I just wanted to tell you that I made some coffee and cookies, and that I'm heading off to work, so you'll be alone for a while."

As she said this, Newt looked up and down at what she was wearing. Not a businesswoman, he thought. She's not dressed formally enough. Shaking that thought from his head, he nodded. "Thank you. Coffee and cookies you said?"

"Yeah, I don't have too much time in the morning to make much else. You can make something else too if you want, I don't mind it." ______ told him, then her eyes drifted to the walls of the room, where the clock was. "Well, unless I want to be late, I really should get going to work. Sorry again if I woke you up, I'll see you tonight, Mister Scamander!" She left the doorway, jogging a bit to make it to the door.

"I'll see you-" Newt began, but he got cut off when he heard the sound of a door closing. "...tonight, ______." He scratched the back of his head, looking over at the clock. It was roughly about 7:30, and he couldn't think where she'd work that would want her there so early. As soon as he thought about that, another thought came into his head.

Pickett probably was still on her.

As panic spread in his head, he shot up from the bed, running to the doorway. "______!" he opened her front door and poked his head out, seeing if maybe she was still in sight and heard him. No such luck.

Someone had heard him though.

The door across from ______'s flew open, and an old woman stood in the doorway, an oven mitt on one hand and her ungloved hand on the knob. "What's all this shouting and slamming doors for?" she asked, then looking at Newt, "Who're you?"

Newt averted his eyes away from hers, looking past her head to the right. "A friend of ______," he told her, still not looking at her. "Do you, erm, do you happen to know where she works?"

"A male friend staying the night?" the old woman raised an eyebrow. It was so improper, so unheard of, so strange. Men usually never stayed at a lady's house, it was impolite. What was also strange to her was that it was ______'s apartment. She couldn't remember a time where she ever had visitors, never mind friends who stayed the night. She shrugged, deciding not to pry too much into the matter. "I don't know where she works, sorry."

"Oh, would anyone else know?" Newt asked, desperate. He didn't want anything to happen, and he feared somebody would do something.

"No, ______ usually keeps to herself in that apartment," she told him. Then, after a moment, "I hope you're treating her well."

"Excuse me?" Newt asked. The statement surprised him so much, he looked over at the woman to see if she had as serious a face as the tone in her voice.