A/N : I couldn't stop myself from writing this. So...this is my first take on a Harry Potter fic. If i get the any of the details of the wizarding world wrong, please kindly tell me so I can fix it. Anyway, please enjoy?

Disclaimer : JK Rowling owns the HP World.

Someone was watching him.

Newt knew something, someone from New York would follow him here. He just never expected it to be this soon. By this, he meant nine hours after his dreadful meeting with the ministry, and exactly twelve days after…well after that.

"Please come out." Fatigue drained his words from their usual tact, and they came out more as a harsh whisper. Newt was beyond caring. Subtly, he cast his gaze to his sides, deliberately not turning around. Empty.

"Please," he tried again. Deep inside the pocket of his pants, his fingers coiled around his wand. "I won't hurt you."

The response was a meek cry.

Newt stilled, all thoughts of danger and Grindelwald fleeting from his mind. He turned expecting a fight, but only found shadows slithering and moving in the dark. He thought he saw a familiar face. Someone he knew. Slowly, he took a step forward, whispering a spell—Lumos. The wand lit up, and with it the alley.

"Credence?"

At the call of his name, the shadow shrunk further. But Newt, with his sharp eyes, had seen his face. Credence, the boy whom he thought was dead, had found him here. In England.

"Credence." Another tinge of disbelief. Newt wasn't absolutely sure how to handle this. Normally he didn't need to talk to the animals he'd come in contact with, animals he needed to calm down. "I am…incredibly sorry for scaring you. If I—" he swallowed, mind reeling. "Back in New York, I told you I wouldn't hurt you. Do you still remember?"

Credence hadn't moved but Newt had. The light of his wand finally reached his face, outlining the hollow of his cheeks and his pale pale face. His lips were blue and shaking. Credence was not ready for the harsh winter of Great Britain.

"My flat is just a few blocks away." He glanced quickly over his shoulders, and when he turned back, Credence was looking at him, afraid but at the same time hopeful. Newt held his gaze. "It's not something I'd brag about but there's hot drinks and a fire to warm you up, I think," he paused again, thinking of how messy and neglected his actual flat was. "Well it's certainly much better than this weather."

Newt pocketed his wand, and then brought the same hand in front of him. An offer of change. Of a new beginning, for the both of them.

Credence's hand was cold as ice, but strong and sure in his grip. A yes, the boy's eyes said. Then, with a small smile, Newt apparated them away, leaving nothing but dusty footprints as a testimony of their encounter.

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