Work Text:
"And that one?" Newt prompted gently, pointing to a pile of leaves.
"Those... those are for the...the Demiguise, Mister Scamander." Credence mumbled, risking a glance and then returning his gaze to the floor. Newt sighed, but didn't correct the boy on his name, he knew that this was hard - the last day had been a whirlwind for them both.
He had managed to get Credence, or at least the fragile remnants of the Obscurus, into his case. By the time he had made it through the muggle check points to leave the country, got onto the boat and headed into his room and then his case, Credence had been standing there. Shaking, face damp and gaze downcast.
"I'm sorry Mister Scamander." He had whispered.
"It's quite alright." Newt had told him. "And you can call me Newt. Now, since you're here, let's take a look. Do you have any injuries?"
"No Mister Scamander."
"Alright. Do you want to help me feed my creatures?" And that question at least had made Credence's eyes light up.
He had spent the next hour showing him what was staying, and telling him what they ate and a little of their habits. Credence was an eager pupil, absorbing all the details, and fascinated by what he was learning.
"Good, now, go and give Dougal a handful of the leaves, and you can help me prepare the food for the Nundu. Now, Credence, you mustn't go near the Nundu alone, do you understand?"
"Yes Mister Scamander." Credence obeyed, taking a handful of leaves to Dougal, and Newt couldn't help noticing a brief smile on Credence's face, before he managed to suppress it once more.
Credence returned, and Newt gave him some instruction on how to properly slice the meat and mix it with the juices to make a meal. Credence got to work, as Newt finished a potion, carefully draining the Swooping Evil. After giving up a dose of its venom, it arched up from its cocoon, flying directly towards Credence.
Credence jumped, dropping the bowl of food which splashed across the table and down his trousers. He yelped in surprise, hands going to his waist.
"Let me." Newt pulled out his wand, and Credence stared, eyes wide with growing horror. He stared at the floor, breathing slowly.
"What spell did Mister Graves use on you Mister Scamander?"
"The Cruciatus curse."
"Will you-" Credence's voice trailed off, his lips moving, and Newt got the feeling he wasn't still asking the question, but reciting something else.
"No Credence. You can't learn that. I will teach you magic, but not ... not that." Newt informed him, swishing his wand and cleaning the stains from Credence's clothes. They didn't speak any more until the Nundu was fed.
"Thank you Mister Scamander." Credence said softly, and Newt nodded.
"It's alright. Now, lets get some food, you can take a look at some of my books and find out more about these creatures of mine."
Credence said nothing, and Newt set the dinner to make itself as he searched for the right book.
"Here..."
Credence frowned, turning it over, then swallowed and opened it up.
"Are you alright there?" Newt asked.
"Mother said reading was... sinful." Credence swallowed. "We might gain the wrong... the wrong ideas." He took a deep breath and as a plate floated towards him he reached for it, knocking it and causing the plate to crash to the table. He flinched, his hands ducking down to his waist once more.
"It's alright. I can help you with that as well." Newt sighed. "Your mother was... was not a good woman." He murmured. "But you did well and the creatures like you very much." That at least made Credence smile. But Newt was concerned, and through the evening his worry grew. It was clear that Credence was not comfortable in the clothing he was wearing, as he seemed to take every opportunity to try and change. Newt wondered if this was because of what had happened before. His clothing was a mark of his old life, it would only be natural to want to wear something different, but Newt had no idea what a young American man should wear.
Once he had finally got Credence to lie down on the camp bed he kept down in his case, he climbed back out and got to work, writing a letter to Tina. She at least could help.
***
"Tina. Need advice. C seems unhappy with his clothes. Spilt food for N. and for B. down himself and both times tried to remove belt before I could clean using magic. What kind of clothing would suit? Thank you. I hope that you are doing well and that G is still recovering. N."
Tina stared at the letter for a moment, then read it again, raising a hand and rubbing her forehead. Queenie walked over and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"He really is clueless isn't he?" Tina murmured, and Queenie nodded.
"I think maybe he needs some help."
"Go and get Jacob." Tina instructed.
"You sure Teenie?"
"I think Credence would like his cakes. And Newt needs to know he's safe."
Queenie gave a slight squeal of delight, and apparated away. Tina stared at the note a moment longer, wondering how exactly she was going to explain this one.