The Grimoire in Diagon Alley

They took the train from Hogsmeade to London early the following day. Hope wore one of her new articles of clothing, another pair of slacks and blouse, but tied her hair back in a slick ponytail that bounced with the train's movement.

Hope was so engrossed with the passing scenery that she didn't notice Newt staring at her until she glanced over.

"What?" she asked with a crooked smile.

"You just…you look beautiful." He murmured.

A pink blush ghosted her cheeks, and she moved closer, leaning against him, but just as she was getting comfortable, something tickled her cheek.

She pulled away with a bewildered blink of her eyes. "What is…" she looked at the little green creature poking a tiny head out at her, seeming shy.

"Oh, this is Pick. He's a Bowtruckle. He likes to go on adventures," Newt chuckled, pulling him out of his pocket, "But mind you, he can have quite the attitude sometimes."

Pick stuck his tongue out at Newt then and crossed his arms.

Hope grinned and extended a finger to him. "He's wonderful."

Reaching out his leafy arms, he took hold of her finger and crawled into the palm of her hand before climbing up to rest in the crook of his neck.

"I think he likes you," he grinned, "Wait. You don't like her more than me, do you?"

Pick gave a salty nod and snuggled against some loose strands of Hope's hair, making her giggle.

"You're just cross. You didn't get any extra woodlice like the others. It wouldn't be fair for you to come with me and have extra treats." Newt sighed, and he seemed to ignore him entirely now. "Fine, have it your way."

Hope pressed against Newt's side the rest of the ride while Pick slept against her neck. She read the Daily Prophet that he held, skimming passages of interest.

When they did arrive, she was relieved. She was starting to feel too antsy to continue sitting for much longer. Today, she'd find out if she had magic or not—sort of. Albus seemed to think she did have it, but she wasn't so sure. She didn't feel magical, not in the way he meant.

As she stood, Pick jumped from her shoulder to Newt's and crawled into his pocket for what she assumed was a longer nap.

"Where to first?" She asked as she followed Newt off the train, taking his hand as he helped her down the steps.

"Well, I certainly need to stop in the Magical Menagerie. Ollivanders is on our list for you, but we can stop anywhere. There's Flourish and Blotts, which is a bookstore. And Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor has a multitude of flavors."

Hope grinned, "That all sounds amazing." She continued looking all around her as they walked the streets of London. Remembering that the people bustling by were called Muggles. It was so strange that one population had no idea of the other and lived under their noses.

They entered the Leaky Cauldron, where Newt wanted to show her how to get to Diagon Alley through the brick wall in the back.

"There are a few different ways to travel, and doorways like this are one of them." He said, walking through the opening with her.

"What are other ways?" She asked curiously as she watched the brick patch itself back together automatically.

With a shrug and a smile. "Some fly. Others use Floo Powder. A powder you toss into a fireplace and step through, you say the name's location and picture it. If you do it correctly, you'll arrive relatively where you'd like to be."

They first visited the Magical Menagerie, where Hope quickly realized there were so many different creatures, and it was no wonder Newt loved it so much. While he looked through additional care items to use at Hogwarts, Hope busied herself playing with the multi-colored Puffskeins. 

She was rubbing one's belly just as Newt came to tell her he was ready to go. Petting them goodbye, she left with him, making a mental note to come back and put more of the puffballs.

Next was Flourish and Blotts, where Hope picked out a few interesting things. As she was walking toward the register, she paused. On one of the low shelves on display was a book about painting for beginners and bringing paintings to life using the proper tools and media. She pursed her lips and moved toward it, looking at the price tag. It was more than she'd anticipated, and she knew she didn't want to spend too much on one trip. It wouldn't look responsible to the Ministry.

Forcing herself to walk away, she looked through a few more shelves of books while still on her way to the register, but somehow found her way back to the paint set again. She couldn't explain it; the prospect of painting just felt like…home. 

Hope gritted her teeth and sighed softly. She was already splurging on books. She could buy the paint set on the next visit. 

Finally, she reached the register and purchased the books she'd chosen. When she was ready, Newt was still reading some of the newly published books on magical creatures, so she went outside to wait. The next store they'd be visiting would be Ollivanders, and she wished she could say she was excited.

Steeling herself, she waited patiently. As soon as Newt emerged from the store with a bag, she walked with him to Ollivanders. Her palms were damp with nervous sweat.

The door opened with a soft chime, and the man, who must be Ollivander, came forth from the back. He tilted his head at her in question.

"I have not seen you in my mind-eye…"

Hope nodded slowly, biting her lip. "I don't doubt that. Albus Dumbledore suggested I come here." She glanced over at Newt, a look of 'help' in her eyes. Before he could assist her with an explanation, Ollivander nodded quickly.

"Oh, yes, yes. Professor Dumbledore did send me an Owl about this. Hope, yes? Alright, yes, indeed. Let's see if we can't match you with a wand." He smiled before bustling about, gathering multiple wands in different sizes and colors. 

He set them on the counter. "Go ahead then," he pointed to a slender ebony wand, "Pick it up and give it a little wave."

She followed his instructions, her heart racing, to find her worst fear had come true. Nothing happened—not a blip of anything, not even an internal sensation of something being different.

This continued in a painstaking, embarrassingly long process. And it never got better.

Shelf after shelf began to empty, and there was no sign she could do anything.

"Mr. Ollivander, I really appreciate this, but it's okay. I just don't think I have anything to offer with this. I'm…not made of magic." Hope said softly, setting the newest wand he had her try on the table.

He fixed his eyes on her; they weren't mean but seemed unyielding.

"Perhaps," he started, "Or…perhaps a wand is simply not the best translation for your kind of magic."

"My kind of magic?"

"Oh, yes. Not all magic is created equally, but all magic can be expressed if given the correct tool. I may not have the tools you need, but you may. Yes, you may."

Hope blinked, staring at him. "I don't have any tools. I wouldn't even know where to get one."

"You'll just have to keep looking," he said before beginning to return the wands to their correct homes.

A bit deflated, Hope left Ollivanders with Newt. She didn't say anything and was glad he didn't either. It was disappointing, going in and leaving with nothing.

"How about some ice cream?" Newt asked with a small smile and sideways glance, clearly trying to cheer her.

So, she let him. She let him give her some happiness to lighten her gray sky a little. Hope nodded, taking his hand as they walked to the ice cream parlor.

When they were sitting, she'd gotten vanilla, and he'd gotten cherry. He tapped the table lightly with his fingers, licking a bit of the ice cream before saying, in a bit of nervous laughter, "I was going to wait until we got back to Hogwarts, but I…well, I know what happened at Ollivanders was a bit disappointing, and I…"

Hope tilted her head to the side, watching him with curious eyes. "Yeah?"

"Well, I noticed you wouldn't purchase it for yourself, so I…" he picked up the bag he'd brought out of Flourish and Blotts, and instead of a book about magical creatures like she'd been expecting, it was the paint set and book she'd wanted so much, but refused herself.

Hope's jaw dropped, her eyes widening as she took it carefully. She looked up at him. "You…" she was lost for words for a moment. "You got this for me?" Happy tears threatened to spill from her burning eyes as a warmth enveloped her. Like she'd just taken a sip of butterbeer.

Smiling softly, Newt nodded, not quite meeting her eyes with his own. "I just- you looked like it would make you very happy, Hope. And I, I want you to be happy." He met her eyes now. "You should always do what makes you happy…"

The warmth had spread to her extremities, and before she could even utter a thank you, she leaned forward and captured his lips in a soft, tender kiss.

Newt, after a moment of shock, returned the gentle pressure. His fingers brushed the hair behind her ear and stroked lightly along her jawline, sending a little shiver down her spine.

"Thank you…" she murmured against his lips.

"You're welcome." He replied just as softly.

They finished their ice cream leisurely, in no hurry now. They just wanted to spend their time together. They occasionally stole little glances at each other, smiling until their cheeks ached.

Eventually, they found themselves simply exploring Diagon Alley. Visiting the owls, where Pick tried to pet them. Unfortunately, the owls were in a bit of a mood and snipped at him, to his dismay. They visited another candy store, where Hope purchased some Blood Pops this time.

When the sun was setting and businesses were looking to close soon, they walked into one more store before the train left for Hogsmeade again. 

The store was called The Junk Shop, and the name hardly did the place justice because it was all junk that seemed to have been beaten up a few times. It was still fascinating, though, seeing all the mismatched second-hand items. Somehow, Hoped knew it could be called an antique shop. Well, a junky wizard antique shop.

Newt seemed to find himself fascinated with old newspaper clippings while she rifled through a pile of old books. They were cheap, so why not.

Hope could see something of interest in the far corner of the bin. She stared at the book. It was massive, battered, and leather-bound, and it was hers.

Hers? Hope dismissed the thought immediately. This book couldn't be hers. Could it? She supposed she didn't remember what she could have owned before her memories were wiped. This book could have been hers and had ended up here somehow. If that were the case, then…well, that could mean she had a place that it had been. A place she had been. A home, a family event? 

In desperation, she yanked the book out of the bin, but as soon as she touched it, she was slammed with another vision. This time, the memory moved instead of a still image of the cloaked man in the forest.

Hope sucked in a harsh breath as the memory came with more detail. The man grinned a jagged, yellow smile at her as he raised his wand. He shouted, "Petrificus totalus!"

"Hope?" Newt's voice called back to her, pulling her back to reality.

She looked up at him, trembling in shock. "I…" She looked down at the book again; the engravings called to her. She knew this was her book. Every fiber of instinct she had told her so. "This is mine. I can't explain how I know it, but I do. It was mine before my memory was taken."

Looking up at Newt, his expression matched her own. Confused and concerned, but not disbelieving. Knowing someone didn't need to be convinced of her feelings was nice.

"Maybe it's another key to unlocking your past," he nodded, "We'll ask Pr- Albus. He might know something of this."

Nodding in agreement, she quickly paid for the book and rushed back with Newt to the train, which they made with only a minute to spare.

The ride back was more exhausting. The book lay heavy in her lap, and she thought back to the memory it had triggered. She had already told Newt about it in a whispered rush through London to the station. It was almost enough to make Hope forget how happy she'd been before that Junk Store. 

Almost.

Hope glanced over at Newt, who was reading from another book by the light of his wand. Pick asleep in his pocket. 

Moving closer, she said nothing as she took A Thousand Ways To Care for Magical Creatures from his lap and set their books on the seat next to them. She wanted to take that moment back- when they couldn't stop smiling. She wanted to feel the growing heat from their momentary glances. As if reading her cue, his fingers caught her chin and pulled her closer while he leaned in, connecting their lips once more. It was somehow even sweeter than before.

"Nox," Newt whispered, plunging their compartment into darkness.

Their lips moved seamlessly together like they'd done this a thousand times. Hope, now trusting herself with her control of blood, enjoyed the taste of his lips. A soft sigh escaped her as he ran a slow hand up her thigh, eventually resting on her hip. His hands on her combined with his increasingly needy pants for breath.

When the train rolled into the station, Hope's skin was flushed and hot. Her clothing was still on, as was Newt's, but their hair and swollen lips left little to the imagination as they exited with curling smiles.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked her as he walked her to her room for the night, and Hope was left with an ultimate decision. She could invite him in, and they could carry on as they'd left off on the train, or she could say goodnight and dream about what it would be like to share a bed.

Chewing her lower lip, she looked down at Pick in his pocket, who continued sleeping.

"Tomorrow." She murmured with a nod and leaned forward, meeting his lips for a soft goodnight kiss. It was fleeting but sweeter than a pumpkin pastie.

"Goodnight, Hope." He murmured against her lips, smiling crookedly before pulling away and walking down the hallway, heading for his room. He glanced over his shoulder, smile still in place, and disappeared around the corner.

"Goodnight, Newt." She whispered into the night before closing her door and leaned against it. Another smile lifted the corners of her mouth. That night, after she bathed and lay in bed, she recalled how his lips touched her neck and the sound of the soft shudders he made when she stroked up his ribs.

Hope throbbed between her legs that night, falling asleep to an aching need. One she knew her fingers alone couldn't satisfy.