#readthesign

"Who will love you now, Dumbledore?"

Those words echoed through the professors head over, and over... And over.

He was more than happy Mr. Kowalski had guided Queenie Goldstein back to their side of the currently waging wizarding war.. But at what cost? He was happy for the pair, truly- But it caused a dull, bitter ache in the professors chest, knowing that it would never be possible for himself and Grindelwald to have such a happy ending. He had barely been holding himself together ever since the blood troth broke, the way Gellert placed his hand over his heart silently begging, pleading him not to go.

To stay with him.

It had taken all of his self restraint and strength to walk away from his husband then, when every part of him was screaming at him to stay. He had never felt such pure and utter agonizing pain as he had when the blood troth had been broken. Blood magic- It was quite powerful. To break something as powerful and sacred as a blood oath.. consequences would be forthcoming. It was why he had fought so desperately, refused to fight him until he has no other choice. He carried the broken pieces of the blood troth with him, even if he was unable to feel his lover through the broken pieces.

Now it had been several weeks since the professor had had contact with anyone outside of Hogwarts, even one Newt Scamander, which was especially unusual. He taught his classes, then reserved himself to his lonesome isolation. He couldn't let anyone, especially his students see him.. Not like this. The horrible way he was distraught and in agony for these past few weeks, emotionally and physically, haunted and plagued by nightmares was almost too much to bare alone.

Almost.

He often found himself sat in front of the mirror of erised in the castle, hand against the glass where his love would have been had it been real, accompanied by a nice bottle of fireball whiskey. Men had made themselves go mad in front of it, where he sat now. Maybe he would go mad.. Mad with grief, with heartache.

Closed RP with @readthesign

Most third years were brimming with excitement at the prospect of finally going to Hogsmeade, the trip meant freedom from wandering the hallways of the castle aimlessly trying to find an alcove to spend ‘independent study time’ with friends. Now students had allocated time away from the castle completely unsupervised from teachers to spend however they wished.

Most individuals were excited to attend Honeydukes to sample the shops wares and consume their weight in sweets or run riot in Zonkos joke shop to stock up on dugbombs and frog spawn soap to terrorise unsuspecting first years.

Harmless teenage antics that Newt was no exception to.

Him and Leta had agreed to meet at The Three Broomsticks for a pint of butterbeer before planning an excursion to the Shirking Shack, they were both convinced it was not haunted but perhaps inhabited by a nesting Augurey that wailed when it rained which now gave the abandoned building its name.

Newt was hovering outside the pub when he saw a trio of Gryffindor boys idling in the street next to a vendor selling Every Flavour ice cream, they were using fairies to attract young children close enough to pester their parents into buying a scoop and the lads were no exception, they had taken a liking to the creatures as well and what started off as harmless fun now was turning a bit too rough for the fairies.

They were vain, pampered creatures that had the ability to dodge most birds of prey but a bunch of teenagers firing off spells at them all at once proved too much. A mistimed spell clipped the wings of one of the fairies and Newt found his feet running before his mind could judge what a terrible idea it was.

Naturally he scooped the poor thing up off the ground before any more damage could be done and Newt was able to cradle the creature close as the jeering began.

“Oh look it’s Newty Salamander, here to save the day again,” they scoffed. He was use to the bullying by now and self preservation kicked in. Newt started walking diligently away, head bowed down and not giving them the satisfaction.

“Hey freak, we’re talking to you,” they called after him and the familiar patten of footsteps could be heard following him. Newt picked up the pace, travelling with a brisker stride. At least it wasn’t snowing, otherwise he had visions of a snowball hitting the back of his head, a small mercy but a leg locking curse was not out of the question.

Newt was able to round the corner calmly enough before setting off at speed, running as quickly as he could to gain some distance, tucking the fairy safely into his pocket.

“Hey! Get back here!” They shouted, realising he was much further ahead than they anticipated, instead choosing to fire off spells. Newt was able to dodge them for the most part but a well placed stinging jinx caught him off guard and his hand ballooned instantaneously causing pins and needles to shoot up his arm. The pain brought tears to his eyes, once he was safe he could fix himself but for now he had to grit his teeth and keep running.

His lungs were now burning and he turned down into another alleyway to escape the bombardment.

By chance, Newt watched a door being opened and people leaving in a merry state. The sign above the threshold read ‘The Hogs Head’ and that was good enough for Newt to escape into. He could wait out the bullies until it went dark and sneak back to the castle once the coast was clear.

Skittishly, he moved through entrance and picked a table where he could see through the grim covered windows without being too close to the glass for the Gryffindor’s to see in. Newt could only hope that he had lost them, he held his breath as he watched.

As he sat, his heart rate was beginning to calm to a steadier rhythm and Newt began to take in his surroundings, realising he might have stumbled across a different sort of danger.

The pub was rundown, dusty and was clearly in need of a scouring charm; the two wizards huddled by the fire looked sketchy and over all the pub felt unwelcoming.

Still, it was better than facing three students by himself.

For a period of time, Aurelius seemed to be recovering - getting stronger every day, no longer so gaunt and weak. He was living with his father, who loved him and was kind, and for the first time it was a life really worth living. Worth fighting for, through even the worst days.

Though that day had not seemed a bad day at all. Aurelius had been pretty much fine, right up until the moment he’d lost the ability to stand and ended up landing on the snowy ground on Hogsmeade’s main street. He couldn’t breathe - his body was seizing and convulsing, he couldn’t stop it - And the last thing he heard before everything turned into nothingness was his father yelling for someone to get a healer. That was several days ago.

It hurt. He wasn’t sure where, just that he could feel hurt. That was the first thing he was aware of, once he began to be aware of anything again.

And it was too bright. Although Aurelius’ eyes were closed, he clenched them shut tighter. And there was talking. What he really wanted was to go back to sleep, until someone said his name. A familiar voice speaking, though he wasn’t really taking in many words. A hand squeezed his. 

@readthesign​ sent: " ...do i need to get the nurses to drag you out of here? "   for the sender to wake up in a hospital bed to find the receiver sitting in the chair by their bedside, clearly having been there since they were taken into hospital.

@readthesign​ sent: 2) our muses reunite after receiver thought sender was dead. (for Albus)