Re: [Hall Way: Patrick & Newt]
Patrick wasn't a prat, of course. Not really. Newt quite obviously enjoyed the teasing and everything else. For and from him, the name-calling was fond. All things considered, Patrick was rather his savior from the situation outside the bookshop, wasn't he? Because, yes, the limelight, even the smallest shine of it, was too much for Newt. If he was being watched while working with his creatures, that was one thing. People trying to talk to him and everything else was quite another. This, detached and further away, was better, and the cottage would be further improvement.
Newt glanced up, lacking the droop of his fringe to offer him a hiding place, and he knew Patrick knew what he'd meant about 'earning,' and he laughed. The innocent expression was a ruse, and Newt knew it. Patrick didn't blush, so Newt did, only just, a rouge of color under cinnamon-sprinkling of freckles, and he laughed, both at himself and at Patrick.—And then they were in the cottage. Patrick set the tree on the table, there by the fireplace, amid a setting of plates, and Newt glanced about as Patrick did.
He flicked his wand loose from where he had it up his sleeve, and he gestured to the fireplace. A fire sprang up warmly. The plates clattered, settling atop one another and out of the way. Newt accio'd the nearest kettle and set it to boiling. He pulled a tin out of one of his pockets, though it was far too sizable to've ever fit, were the pockets not magicked, and he let it float idly over to the hovering kettle. The makings of tea began themselves, and by the time Newt had a mug for himself joining the brigade floating by the hearth, Patrick was looking back at him. He smiled.
"Ah, must you? Well, this way then." Newt let the teabag hop into the cup and he led Patrick, who he rather assumed was following him, to the narrow set of stairs. Newt and Patrick both would need to duck their heads. Newt was thin enough that he'd not require overmuch turning and pivoting to get up the stairs, but Patrick might, with his broader shoulders. Then it was into the bedroom. The entire space was made for people much smaller, but that didn't bother Newt. He let his gaze move over the white bedding, pristine and pulled tight, then turned to look over his shoulder. He smiled, if Patrick'd joined him, then he walked to the bed and laid on it after a face-first freefall and an 'oof.' "Quite comfortable, actually," he piped.