#hmnsecretsanta

@hogwartsmysterynet secret santa for @albus-severus <3

Penny Haywood moodboard — for @jackswrights

Credence crashes into the side of Ilvermorny in the winter of 1926, and, as Head Boy, it’s Graves’s responsibility to take care of him. Credence doesn’t take well to authority: not only the school board, but even less so to the MACUSA officials, and though he refuses to say a word to Graves, the fact that he isn’t trying to murder Graves is a start. Abernathy is cleared out of Graves’s dorm room, and Credence moves in with nothing to his name but a complementary uniform from Headmistress Picquery.

He isn’t half as talkative as Abernathy; but it means that he isn’t anywhere near as annoying. Credence keeps to himself entirely, spending his time reading various textbooks or Muggle fiction. He confides in Graves one night that he isn’t very good at reading, that his Ma only taught him enough to scrape by. Graves reads to him, Credence’s eyes wandering the wordscapes and taking in as much new information as possible. It’s the first time he talks to Graves beyond exchanging names, and it soon becomes a nightly ritual, after dinner.

Credence accompanies Graves to every meal of the day except for lunch, which is brought to Credence by one of the house-elves. Graves doesn’t intend to abandon his social rituals for Credence, and rather hopes that it’ll give Credence the chance to socialise, so he continues to sit with his friends. Queenie makes conversation every evening with Credence; she isn’t put off by his monosyllabic answers, by his inability to even look up at her. Graves wishes he could be anything like her. Sometimes he feels detached.

It is with Queenie’s help that Graves begins to draw Credence from his shell. It’s a particularly cold day mid-December when he catches Credence shivering in his shirt-sleeves, and offers him his old Quodpot sweater. It takes him almost two hours of negotiation before he finally succeeds: Credence pulls the jumper over his head, and Graves almost has to look away. He looks so sweet in it, the sleeves drifting over his knuckles. It’s so easy to forget that Credence is dangerous, and Graves begins to wonder if there’s a difference between dangerous and scared, and if MACUSA knows that difference.

Beyond that, Graves starts taking Credence into the common room. Though Graves is technically a Thunderbird, Pukwudgie are a kind house with no qualms about who they let in, and he lets himself in one weekend for Gobstones with Newt and Queenie, who take it in turns to teach Credence how to play. He’s no good - Gobstones is a game of experience as much as anything else - but he seems to enjoy it. He smiles, and Graves even hears him laugh: a gentle sound, but one with presence, like the ringing of church bells. In the moment, Credence seems to have found peace.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, the day before Graves is due to go home for Christmas. Graves’s heart lurches. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t leave at all.

He gets a cushy Christmas in the family manor, and Credence gets weeks of interrogation by officials.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Graves says. “I’ll be back.”

He’s caught up by Picquery just before school resumes. Over the festive break, MACUSA has decided that the safest method of handling Credence would be to teach him to channel his powers in one-to-one lessons; and on the other hand, they hoped to remove his obscurus altogether by letting him form the bonds of friendship in his dorm and also by enrolling in less spell-orientated classes such as Herbology and History of Magic, all of which he would have with students he identified as friends. Graves is surprised to hear that the Congress have been reasonable.

“The Scamanders made a real push for kind treatment,” Picquery says. “They brought it up with the Ministry in Britain, and with that kind of pressure on MACUSA after the mess of his initial discovery, they acquiesced. So you have Newt to thank.”

Graves passes his thanks on to Newt, who refers them further to Theseus, but who also flushes gently.

Credence has been sorted into Pukwudgie, according to his new and embroidered uniform (which also accommodates for Credence’s healthy weight gain). Graves chuckles to himself as he walks into their dorm room, and Credence looks at him, seeming distinctly worried.

“What?” he asks.

“Pukwudgies are usually social,” Graves says. He wonders if Credence will take offence, but he smiles, letting out a short laugh; and Graves feels a little more relaxed. The world is always alright when he’s able to coax a laugh.

He has History of Magic with Credence, and Newt and Queenie have Herbology and Divination with him respectively. History of Magic is generally Graves’s driest subject, but Credence seems to throw himself into learning, asking Graves for help with his supplementary reading. Credence is allowed to work at a more casual pace, but he doesn’t shirk: Graves sometimes doesn’t see him immediately after classes, and hears from Newt that it’s because Credence is staying behind to learn more and help out in the greenhouses - and soon enough, Credence starts to bring cuttings of plants home, growing them on the windowsill of their dorm room. He remains quiet, shy by heart, but Graves watches him engage with life at Ilvermorny, ignoring the threat of his obscurus and the pressure of MACUSA for him to successfully reform. He seems to be engaged, simply, in progressing at his own pace.

For a boy who crashed into Ilvermorny and wiped out about half of the Wampus dorm a few months ago, Graves thinks Credence is doing pretty well. A testament to the Scamanders, he hopes, and to their humanitarian push.

Graves has done well at sorting out Credence, so far.

Sorting himself out is another matter entirely.

Easter comes and goes. Credence’s dependence on Graves is rapidly decreasing, and though Graves knows he should be happy for his friend, he can’t help but feel a slight pang of jealousy and loneliness. He’s jealous of Credence’s independence, he supposes. He misses the time they spent together. Credence doesn’t need Graves anymore, and so they don’t spend as many evenings together. It leaves Graves with too much time on his hands.

It leaves him open.

Open to Abernathy coming over, both unable to look Graves in the eye and demanding to know why Graves seems to be pretending that they never had a relationship. Open to Graves admitting that he feels a little lost in his own skin, that he feels like he’s wandering a predestined path that he didn’t get the luxury of deciding. He admits that he doesn’t know if the push of his family into an Auror job is what he wants.

He admits he used the opportune arrival of Credence to avoid the issues. Avoid worrying for days on end if where he was going was where he wanted to be. He didn’t have to worry about himself when there was someone else to worry about.

Abernathy says he knows that Graves likes Credence, knows that he is an afterthought. (He has never been an afterthought.) But despite it, he touches his hands to Graves’s cheeks.

Abernathy touches and he feels like the surface of the sun, and he kisses Graves. “I’d always be here for you,” he says. “You know that.”

As he leaves, Credence steps in from behind the door. He says nothing, just waters his plants and sits down to read, and Graves doesn’t know if he wants Credence to speak or not. The silence hangs heavy in the air.

You can’t control him, Graves tells himself. But sometimes he wishes he could just peer inside Credence’s mind, and hear what he’s thinking.

“What did he mean when he said you like me?”

Graves sometimes wonders if Credence experiences time differently, if he’s immortal or has the lifespan of a faerie. It’s been days since Abernathy came over, days for Graves to painstakingly mull over the conversation and wonder if he should accept the fate of his parents, become an Auror and kiss Abernathy behind closed doors at the Magical Congress when nobody’s looking and make do with that life. But Credence feels like an opportunity, a chance for Graves to be something more. If Credence can start rebuilding his life, then who’s to say that Graves can’t?

“What do you think he meant?” Graves asks.

“I don’t know,” Credence says. “Do you like me like - he likes you?”

The honest answer that pops into Graves’s mind like the crack of thunder is yes. But he shouldn’t. He’s meant to be the responsible Prefect, the Head Boy, some official face for Ilvermorny kindness. There’s no room for his personal feelings when he’s meant to be an ambassador. So he just looks back at Credence.

“I like you,” Credence says. “I know I’m not supposed to. I feel like I’m not good enough.”

“You’re a better man than me,” Graves says, and shifts his weight away a little - but Credence is firm, a little truer to himself. Graves suspects that Queenie has been teaching him well: in response to her legilimency, she’s become somewhat of an expert in interpersonal relations. And she’s bold. She sticks up for what she believes in. Credence clearly does, too.

“That’s not true,” Credence says. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. And then you helped me learn things, and helped me with class. I’m sorry I’ve been at the greenhouses. I didn’t mean to make you lonely.”

He takes a step forward, and then another, again until he’s right in front of Graves: and with superhuman confidence, he puts his arms lightly around Graves. He’s surprisingly warm: a little firecracker, Graves always thinks. Or maybe Credence has a slumbering dragon in his chest.

“We can work things out together,” Credence urges as Graves returns the hug, Credence nuzzling his shoulder. He doesn’t know, yet, the full weight of what he’s saying; he doesn’t know about the Graves family name, the pressure, the worry, the feeling as if he’s about to stumble into the wrong life. But Credence looks determined, and his arms are tight round Graves’s chest.

secret santa gift for @angelinajonson

🐍 // ♊ // 🌼 // 👩🏻‍💻