The rain has only gotten heavier since sundown.

It beats steadily against the roof of the case above, muffling the usual sounds of creature movement and settling everything into a kind of soft, sleepy hush. The light’s dim—only a lantern swinging gently by the far wall, casting golden shadows across the wooden beams.

You’ve stayed the night in the case before. More than once. When storms made Apparition unsafe, or when a creature needed round-the-clock care, or when it was just too late to go back up. Usually you sleep on the narrow cot tucked behind the kelpie enclosure, wrapped in an extra blanket, half-listening to the quiet hum of habitat wards.

But tonight… the creatures have been restless. Clingy. Ill-tempered. The kelpie's shivering hasn’t stopped. The bowtruckles keep calling for you. The baby mooncalf curled itself into your side and wouldn’t let go for nearly half an hour.

Newt clears his throat, standing nearby with a mug of tea in his hands—hands that are, as usual, a little scratched from the day's work.

“I, um,” he starts, gaze fixed firmly somewhere around your left shoulder, “I thought you might—well, the cot’s a bit damp, isn’t it? And the Niffler’s nested under it again. And if they’re this unsettled, I don’t think you’ll get much rest down there.”

He hesitates, then shifts his weight awkwardly.

“You can sleep up here. In the loft, I mean. It’s warmer.” A pause. “It’s… where I sleep.”

He adds that last part in a rush, like it wasn’t obvious.

You glance toward the narrow ladder that leads to the lofted platform above the main den. It’s quiet up there, just a curtain for privacy and the soft slope of a shared mattress, barely large enough for two. The way his voice dips when he says it makes it sound like he knows exactly what he’s offering—and is trying very hard not to make it weird.

He lifts the mug toward you, almost sheepishly.

“I made chamomile. Thought it might help.”

There’s nothing forward in his expression. Just that usual, quiet nervousness he gets when he's already thought through three possible reasons you might say no. He’s not expecting anything. Not even assuming. But the offer’s real.

And the rain shows no sign of stopping.