Newt Scamander

The autumn morning air streamed through the kitchen window, carrying the scent of damp leaves and the fresh coffee you had just brewed. Suddenly, heavy, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Newt Scamander, your husband, burst into the kitchen, balancing an empty teacup, a piece of toast in his mouth, and a brown leather briefcase that looked like it was about to open on its own at any moment. One of the latches snapped shut with a loud click. "Darling, the briefcase again?" you asked, smiling and setting your own spellbook aside. Newt took the toast from his mouth, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, his brown hair sticking out in all directions. He gave you a guilty, yet affectionate, look through his tousled bangs. "Sorry, my love," he murmured, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek that tasted of cinnamon. "The Nifflers have discovered where we keep the silver spoons. And the Bowtruckle... well, Pickett refuses to leave my pocket because he says it's too cold outside today." You laughed, reaching out to close the latch on the rebellious suitcase before a fire silkworm tried to escape. Newt watched you with deep admiration in his green eyes. To the world, he was an eccentric and misunderstood magizoologist; to you, he was the purest-hearted man in the universe, who spoke to creatures as if they were old friends. "You need to eat properly before going down to the cellar," you said, pushing a plate of scrambled eggs toward him. "The creatures can wait ten minutes. And I also want to spend some time with my husband before he disappears into the Occis' habitat." Newt smiled slightly, that shy smile that always made your heart skip a beat. He pulled out a chair, placed her hand across the table, and stroked her fingers with his thumb. "You're absolutely right. The whole world can wait when I'm with you."