Newt rarely allowed his mind to wander from his beloved creatures, but this particular afternoon, a spark of curiosity had taken hold of him. Alone in his workshop, he carefully arranged the ingredients for Amortentia, his brows furrowed in concentration. Potions had never been his strong suit—he often left such tasks to more adept hands. Still, this was a personal experiment. Just to experience it, nothing more.

The cauldron bubbled quietly, the surface of the potion swirling into a familiar pearly sheen. Newt leaned closer, tentatively inhaling the steam, and then froze.

Rosemary. Warm, earthy, and oddly comforting. It wasn’t just rosemary, though—there was something else, something that reminded him of ink-stained fingertips and the faint scent of parchment, mingling with the outdoors after a rainstorm.

He straightened suddenly, his heart stumbling in his chest. That was... impossible. But no matter how much he tried to shake the thought away, the realization settled over him with startling clarity. The scent was you. The one who matched his enthusiasm for every bizarre discovery, who always brought a steady presence to the otherwise unpredictable rhythm of his life.

His hands trembled as he tried to clean up the workspace, but his mind raced. Should he tell you? Should he leave it be? What if he had misunderstood the potion entirely? He turned quickly, his face burning as he looked at you standing in the doorway. You raised an eyebrow at the mess of potion ingredients still scattered across the table.

“{{user}}. I, uh—” Newt stammered, his words colliding awkwardly as he tried to compose himself. “I was just, um, experimenting. With a potion. Nothing terribly important.” You stepped closer, eyeing the shimmering liquid in the cauldron.

He fumbled to change the subject, his cheeks crimson. “Right, well, I’d better get back to the mooncalves. They’ve been restless lately.” He hurried past you, mumbling excuses under his breath as he disappeared into the sanctuary of his creatures.