Those Days [Newtina]

Chapter 23: Wingardium Leviosa

Both their thoughts were interrupted by Jacob wandering into the living room.

"Good morning! Oh gee, it's early! How long have you been awake?"

Tina glanced at Newt.

"Not long," she lied.

"Breakfast is almost ready," added Newt.

Jacob studied the pair for a second before reaching for the pot of tea Newt prepared earlier and placing it gently on the table.

Newt let him make some coffee and left the kitchen to check on his beasts.

A brilliant cerulean Occamy curled itself around Newt's arm as he gradually lifted it out of its nest. He rolled up his sleeves with his spare hand while balancing the creature on his other.

Newt cooed soothing words to his Occamy as he held out a dead cricket in between his thumb and forefinger. The animal's beady little eyes slid towards the insect, and it eagerly leaned forward and snatched its snack from Newt.

He smiled to himself and let the Occamy slip through his fingers and back into its nest, where it coiled tightly back up like a feathery, azure spring amongst its siblings.

He only had to feed one more.

Staring at the vivid plumage of the gorgeous serpentine creatures, Newt was reminded of Tina's Occamy feather quill, probably tucked into a drawer or a quill stand upstairs somewhere.

He ran a hand through his uncombed hair and crouched down next to the nest, reaching for the last dead cricket from a small, glass jar.

The appetising scent of scrambled eggs wafted through the suitcase, and Newt became suddenly aware of how hungry he was.

The last proper meal he had must have been...

Lunch.

Lunch the previous day. He'd skipped dinner to go and tend to his animals, so the last thing that Newt ate was a slice of Queenie's blueberry pie.

Lost in his thoughts about food, Newt forgot that he was holding an Occamy's breakfast in his hand, and one of the younger ones grew impatient and lunged for the cricket.

He yanked himself back to the present and hastily let go of the poor insect, but not before the Occamy became peckish and snapped at his hand with its sharp, slightly hooked beak.

Newt frowned at his now bleeding finger.

Then at the Occamy.

This one was a baby- only a few months old, but it had developed quite an attitude within that time.

It greedily gulped down its snack, then contentedly nestled down into a tight coil, innocent as ever.

Now he was slightly relieved that all the Occamies had eaten, and he screwed the lid back onto the jar and placed it on the small shelf under the Bowtruckles' tree.

Standing up, Newt sucked on the bite on his finger, trying to stem the blood.

Humming quietly to himself, he strolled in and out of habitats, refilling water bowls and checking the health of all of his creatures.

But when Newt walked past the, now empty, Thunderbird enclosure, he subconsciously stopped just in front of the wooden steps leading up to it.

Newt hadn't yet decided which of his beasts would inhabit this particular area in the future.