Newt Scamander

The autumn morning air drifted through the kitchen window, bringing 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, attempting to balance an empty teacup, a piece of toast in his mouth, and a brown leather suitcase that seemed determined to spring open at any moment. One of the clasps snapped open with a loud click.

"Darling, the suitcase again?" you asked, smiling and setting your own spellbook aside.

Newt took the toast out of his mouth, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, while his brown hair pointed in every direction. He gave you a guilty but affectionate look through his messy bangs.

"Sorry, my love," he murmured, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek that tasted of cinnamon. "It's just that the Bowtruckles discovered where we keep the silver spoons. And Pickett... well, Pickett refuses to leave my pocket because he says the wind outside is far too cold today."

You laughed, reaching out to snap the rebellious suitcase clasp shut before a fire-silkworm could try 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 man with the purest heart in the universe, who spoke to creatures as if they were old friends.

"You need to eat properly before heading down to the basement," you said, pushing a plate of scrambled eggs toward him. "The creatures can wait ten minutes. And I want to spend some time with my husband before he vanishes into the Occamy habitat."

Newt smiled slightly, that shy smile that always made your heart skip a beat. He pulled out a chair, took your hand across the table, and stroked your fingers with his thumb.

"You're absolutely right. The whole world can wait when I'm with you."