Newt got this sudden wave of feeling protective, one he got often when someone other than himself was around his beasts. He always had a fear that somebody would do something, he didn't know what but somebody will do something. This situation was no exception. Newt got up quickly, and as he did so, ______ did too. Pickett had resigned himself back into her sleeve, which now ______ was looking down, searching for the small creature. Newt always assumed the worst, so of course, his first reaction was to immediately start babbling on about Pickett.

"Please don't do anything rash," Newt began to plead, a desperate look in his eyes. "Pickett hasn't done anything wrong, and it isn't his intention to hurt you. He isn't dangerous at all unless you try to forcefully try to take him away from his tree or something like that, which you haven't, so he hasn't got anything against you."

"Pickett?" Was all she could seem to manage to say, reaching down her sleeve and pulling out the Bowtruckle in question.

"Yeah, that's his name, and he's really nice. I'm sure he didn't mean to crawl into your clothes, please don't get mad at him and try to do anything. He hasn't done anything wrong."

"Pickett?" ______ asked again, this time, not directed towards Newt. It seemed this time, the question was directed towards the Bowtruckle itself. Despite everything that was happening around him, he didn't seem to show any signs of fear or shock, and instead met eyes with ______ while she talked to him.

"He's one of my magical creatures," Newt told her in a small voice. He was still watching her every move like a hawk, and his hand hovered over his pocket where his wand was. He didn't want to, but if he had to, he would cast a spell on her if she tried to do anything strange to Pickett. While Pickett had attachment issues, Newt had protective issues. He was very much like a parent to his creatures, and he wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt them.

______ didn't seem to hear his comment about magic, or if she did, she didn't mention it, and she wasn't off put by it. She just kept making eye contact with Pickett, her shining eyes Newt admired so much looking into the creatures small, beady ones. A small smile spread across her lips the more she looked at him, and finally, she said something.

"Is it okay to say that Pickett is absolutely adorable?" ______ asked this with sincerity in her voice. There were no traces of fear, no hints of bad intentions. She was just looking into Pickett's eyes, genuinely thinking that he was one of the cutest creatures she had ever seen, whatever he was. What was he anyways? Was this the supposed pet that Newt had been talking about earlier? It would make sense, after all. He came back for it, and seemed to want to protect it so much. She wasn't sure what he was afraid of, who would want to hurt something as cute as this?

Newt stared at her for a moment. "You really think he's cute?" He asked, genuinely surprised. Not many people liked Bowtruckles the way he did, after all, they weren't exactly easy to warm up to. They could be tamed though, you just had to know how. It wasn't very hard at all – they were only ranked 'XX' by the Ministry of Magic.

"I do. He's so small, and he kind of reminds me of a leaf-bug," she told Newt. She didn't know if what she was saying sounded ridiculous, to some people it might. She was calling this 8-inch magical creature adorable. Wand makers usually just saw them as pests, always providing a hassle to try to get the good wood from wand trees. Yet she thought he was cute. "You said his name was Pickett?"

"Yeah, it's just a little nickname I have for him," he told her, a small subconscious smile creeping up on his lips. Was there really such a thing as Muggles liking magical creatures?

She looked back into the eyes of the Bowtruckle. "Hello Pickett," she said, smiling at him. "I'm ______. I hope we can get along." She tore her eyes away from Pickett's beady eyes and looked into Newt's bright blue ones. "So, I hope this isn't worded rudely, but what exactly is Pickett?"

Oh boy, Newt began to think. That was the question he had been dreading. He thought for a moment. What was it Pickett reminded her of? A leaf bug? "He's, uh, a rare species of insect."

"Insect?" She asked, this time with some confusion. "He seems very intelligent for an insect."

"Intelligent?" Newt asked. "How can you tell?"

______ looked down for a moment, thinking she might sound silly. "Well, erm, it's just this feeling I got. Like he understood me more when I was talking to him. I don't know, does that sound weird?"

"Not at all!" Newt assured her, maybe too quickly. He could relate to the girl's feeling. When it came to magical creatures, he felt like he could talk to them more than people. Like they understood each other better. His thoughts matched what this girl was saying, and he used to be teased for thinking such things. He grew up around fancy Hippogriffs, so he always had a stronger connection to magical creatures. Even when he went to Hogwarts. "It doesn't sound weird to me, I understand what you mean. That's why I keep so many, um, pets around," Newt told her.

"'So many?' So this isn't the pet you broke into my apartment chasing?"

"No," Newt told her honestly. "That was a different one." Newt stared at Pickett for a while, who was resting on the back of her hand, seeming as comfortable with her as he was with him. People might think it would make him jealous, one of his beasts warming up to a Muggle as much as they warmed up to him, but it was the opposite. It made him happy, almost even euphoric. It proved his point even further that they weren't dangerous. If a Muggle could understand Pickett so well, wizards should be able to too, right?

He almost was hesitant when it came to the point where he had to take Pickett back. Pickett had some serious attachment issues, he didn't want to see him upset from being taken away from what he was guessing was his new friend. It had to be done, though. At least I don't have to obliviate her, Newt thought. She doesn't know anything. She's safe.

"I think I overstayed my welcome," Newt began, getting closer to her and offering a handshake, for real this time. "Thank you for understanding."

"Thank you for letting me meet Pickett. I imagined you were worried about him, I'm surprised you didn't just take him back on the spot. It was a pleasure, Mister Scamander." ______ replied, taking his hand in hers and shaking it. Once again, Newt thought her hands had to be the softest ones he's ever shaken. They must be even better to hold, he caught himself thinking, but then shook his head, almost getting himself flustered by his own thoughts.

"Well, he seemed to be happy with you, ______." Newt told her. He let go of her hand and looked at Pickett, who still attached himself onto ______'s sleeve, slightly sticking out of her cuff. Newt reached his hand out to him. "Come on Pickett," Newt said. "It's time to go."

Pickett didn't react in the way Newt ever expected him to.