Newt Scamander Preferences

When Newt Wakes Up

A/N: Not feelimg my best today. Please send much love. Thank you.

He opened his eyes and the world that greeted him was not the same as the one he had left.

It was all far too bright and every inch of his sinewy body ached in a way he had never experienced before.

Each breath took far too much effort. As the oxygen filled his pained lungs, his chest metaphorically screamed out in protest.

It was very clear to the male that from the state of his mortal coil, he was most definitely supposed to be dead but by the grace of God, he wasn't.

Around him, choas seemed to florish. He caught the odd word from members of the Hogwart's faculty, whom were racing around the infirmary, attempting to assist the matron. From what he gathered, there had been an accident in the owlery. No, a bloodshed. At least one person was dead.

With curiousity and partial worry, Newt watched silently from his bed, as a body on a stretcher was carried in, the person upon it so heavily covered in blood, they were beyond unrecognisable. How were they still alive? He thought, assessing the gore.

He wondered who on earth it was but their facial features were not distinguishable enough for him to conjure up a name.

The male noticed the Gryffindor emblem on the person's uniform, so he knew which house they were in.

Seeing the lion symbol caused Newt to think of you. Looking away from the soon-to-be-corpse (there was no way the student would survive those injuries), he wondered where you were.

Closing his eyes, he could almost hear your whisperings again. He recalled humourously on one particular muttering of yours: "I hope in the future I'll be making you scream it."

He chuckled to himself before groaning. Laughing was definitely not a good idea, especially not whilst in his condition.

However, he couldn't help but feel amused by your words. It was so like you to say something like that. Prehaps he would have to hold you to your promise, he thought, blushing in the process. He should definitely not be thinking like that.

Lying there in the infirmary, the frantic din now giving him a headache, Newt attempted to focus on something other that the drill-to-the-head sensation he was experiencing in his temples.

He hoped that you were alright, knowing that news of his admission had initially upset you greatly. Unfortunately, he couldn't recall much else aftervyour first visit, the effect of whatever medication he had been given must have completely dulled his subconscious.

Which reminded him, he needed to talk to a teacher, preferably the Headmaster, someone needed to know that it had been Jules Hollinger that had attempted to drown him in the Great Lake.

Opening his eyes, the torturous bright light scorched his retinas but still Newt attempted to sit up.

The world continuously swam before his eyes, threatening to make him throw up but he did not stop moving, someone needed to be alerted to how dangerous Jules was.

Without warming two firm hands oushed him back down. "Mr Scamander please do not try to leave your bed!" he heard someone say.

"But I..." he croaked, his voice hoarse from misuse. Running his sandpaper-like tongue along the inside of his teeth, he realised that he was in desperate need of water. "Jules Hollinger-" he continued whispering.

"Later, Mr Scamander. You need to rest. It's not safe for you to be out of bed yet. So please, just. Lie. Back. Down."

With a humph, he was sprawled flat on his spine, once more back at square one.

Realising that no one would be listening to him any time soon, the male decided to see what was happening with the patient to his right, the one with the severely damaged face.

Glacing sideways, he almost cried out in shock. Most of the blood had now been cleared away, so now he could see the odd familiar facial feature, though most it was badly bruised, swollen or cut open.

It was you. You were the soon-to-be-corpse.

What had happened to you? Who could have possibly done such a thing?!

Newt felt physically sick to the stomach at the idea that someone could be so viscious towards you.

Oh how he wished that he could exit his bed, sit beside you and prehaps let you know that he was there. He desperately wanted to whisper words of encouragement, just like you had to him.

Your left hand was just close enough to the edge of your bedside, so the terrified male reached out towards you and entwined his right hand in yours. He squeezed the fingers ever so gently, to let you know that he was beside you. It was his turn to be the comforter. "I'm here." he whispered, observing you carefully.

He analysed the body lying before him, his gaze drifted over you soft hair that was matted to your head by blood. Your face was mottled with bruises and your body, marred with scars and cuts.

He averted his gaze from your weary face, hoping to find something to focus on that wouldn't upset you further but everything about him did.

You shouldn't have been there, in the infirmary, attached to an IV but you were and Newt knew that he would just have to be content with the sight of you shallowly breathing. At least you were alive. Just.

A tear ran down his cheek. More and more tears eventually fell. He couldn't stop them. Newt was crying because you was suffering and there was nothing you could do to ease whatever pain you would mist definitely be feeling.

Looking at your ice cold hand, he ran a thumb along your knuckles, which unlike his own, were devoid of various animal bites and scratches. Despite his evident pain, he smiled at how he even found your fingers sweet. Everything about you, he found perfect but your fingers for some reason, just made him smile.

"Hey," he croaked, quickly clearing his throat. "it's Newt. I'm here, (y/n), I'm here. I..." he looked up at the ceiling, trying to prevent more tears from falling. "You...you better survive this, okay? Otherwise you'll have bigger problems than whatever has happened to you. You'll have me to deal with otherwise. Understand? You have to wake up." the male said with more resolve than he truly felt. "And while you're focusing on getting better, I'm going to find out what the hell happened to you, got it? You better be listening to me, (y/l/n). I had to listen to your pep talk and now it's your turn. You better get well quickly because you made me a certain promise when you visited me and I attend for you to keep it."