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4
Tina didn’t even realize it until Queenie pointed it out.
They were talking about – and she can’t believe she’s even thinking this, it’s so embarrassing – their sweethearts, and Queenie was waxing poetics about the way Jacob Kowalski kissed.
Tina was nodding along, all the while thinking about the way Newt had given back her copy of Fantastic Beasts after he had finally signed it. His fingers had lingered over hers when she had taken it. And Tina didn’t believe in feeling sparks or souls touching, or whatever Queenie wanted to call knowing when you finally meet your true love. But wow, did Newt make her want to believe.
And even as that small point of contact ended, Newt kept explaining that he didn’t know what to write in her copy, but it seemed terribly rude to leave it with just his signature after all. So, he says while looking at where Tina was holding the book, he’d put in a few annotations in some of the passages, things she might find interesting, and he hoped she didn’t mind –
That was when Tina had finally taken his hand and stupidly just said, thank you, and, I can’t wait to read it.
Newt had stood so still, leaning towards her, but not quite looking at her. They were only literally a book apart from each other, both of them still somehow each holding one end. And then –
“Oh,” Queenie breaks through her reverie with a shocked gasp. “He hasn’t kissed you yet, Teen?”
And then, Newt left, after smiling at her and giving her one of those brief looks from under his hair.
“Stop it,” Tina says automatically. “And no, we haven’t.”
Queenie bites her lips, and Tina may not be a Legilimens like her sister, but she still knew Queenie like the back of her hand. And she knows that look. It means Queenie’s about to say something that would definitely piss Tina off.
“Do you think he has a problem with...” Queenie pauses meaningfully and gives her another Look. “You know.”
Tina slouches further down the loveseat and covers her hot cheeks with her hand. “For Boot’s sake, no, he does not have a problem with you know what.”
“Oh,” Queenie says again, this time knowingly. And Tina just wants to die of embarrassment, as she tries to tamp down the thoughts of how Newt had felt against her during the brief moments they had been pressed closed together. “Well, maybe he’s just a little shy? I know you don’t like using your wiles, hon, but Newt might–”
“Queenie. Stop. Talking.”
3
Except now Tina can’t stop thinking about kissing Newt. And if Newt actually wanted to kiss her, but that’s a secondary line of thought that she’s trying not to think about.
“Watch your step,” Newt says absentmindedly, holding her hand as they step down the stairs leading to the basement of his house.
Tina blinks at the animals that instantly fly, creep, crawl, roar, and yelp to welcome Newt. “What is this, is it like… a haven for your creatures?”
Newt stops petting a gray-looking warthog to stare up at Tina from where he’s crouched down. She licks her lips when he stands up and steps closer to her, until they’re sharing a step on the staircase. He’s peering down at her with those blue eyes, and Tina is helpless to do anything but stare back. Newt doesn’t like prolonged eye contact of any kind with another human being, but when he does deem to look, and to look at her of all people, Tina feels scorched under his gaze.
“A haven, yes,” he echoes softly, his lips curling at the corner. “Though it is certainly more accurate to term it as creating multiple habitats.”
Tina wills her eyes not to flutter shut when Newt traces a finger over her cheek. She’s sure he can feel the thrumming pulse under her hot skin. And he’s leaning so close now, Tina just has to tilt her head and –
“Newt!” A voice from down the basement calls. “The kelpie’s hungry!”
“Just a moment,” Newt says, finally dropping his hand and taking Tina’s hand again.
After hastily introducing them to each other, Newt leaves Tina and Bunty to stare off after him as he removes his coat, vest, shoes, and stockings. Tina can’t help jolting forward when Newt suddenly jumps in the water and starts riding a kelpie.
“Are you his sweetheart then?” Bunty asks her.
Tina switches her horrified gaze to Newt’s assistant. “What?”
Bunty shrugs, fiddling with the bucket she's holding. “He’s never brought anyone down here.”
Tina almost dies from trying to contain her embarrassment and giddiness, but then Newt lopes towards them with a huge smile on his face, completely soaked and his white shirt practically translucent and clinging to his body and Tina can see so many freckles, and she spends the rest of the night in a daze while Newt introduces her to each and and every one of his creatures.
2
Tina trails off from ranting about Malcolm, the junior Auror she’s been partnered with, when she realizes that she’s been talking for more than half the time they’ve been walking since setting off from the Malhalm village.
She looks up at Newt, who glances at her with that damned lip curl before bending down and pulling a branch out of her way so she can pass through.
“Do you know about pogrebins?”
Tina blinks at him, but Newt keeps his gaze steadily on the ground this time. “Vaguely. Russian demon, right?”
The lip curl widens. “You read my book,” he says, sounding pleased.
Tina raises an eyebrow. “I said I would,” she points out.
“Many people often don’t mean what they say. But going back, pogrebins love following humans, and it often hides in the human’s shadow. If the person allows the pogrebin to follow them for hours, they would fall in despair, without quite knowing why. The trick is to use simple hexes or Stupefying Charms. So when you feel distressed for no apparent reason, and you see a smooth, shiny-looking rock that’s constantly just a few feet behind you, you know what to do.”
Tina stops walking, feeling bemused, and fond, and tender all at once. Newt stops beside her, still looking down on the ground while protectively holding the handle of his ever-present briefcase. She can’t help but step closer to him, but she restrains herself from pressing their foreheads together so they can both not look at each other to their hearts’ content.
“So you want me to hex Malcolm, is that what you’re saying?” Tina asks, trying to keep the laughter from her voice.
Newt finally looks at her, and the grin on his face almost stops her heart. “To a certain extent, I suppose. To the extent that you must be firm with him so he doesn’t cause you undue stress.”
Tina stops holding it in and just laughs out loud, mostly because Newt is funny and uncannily observant about people in some aspects, but partly because she is constantly and pleasantly surprised of how this man can make her laugh and drive her crazy at the same time.
“Thank you, I’ll take that under advisement,” she says, wiping her eyes and grinning back at him.
He tips his head, his whole face serious except for where she can see his lips curling up into an almost-grin. “You’re most welcome,” he murmurs. He glances past her shoulder and abruptly takes her arm. “They’re here.”
Newt takes her further down the path, until a towering rock formation comes into view. A shimmering slip of a waterfall divides the rock wall into two. It’s a breathtaking sight, and they’re both silent as they listen to the trickle and fall of water in the forest.
Newt silently hands her his wand, which has been transfigured into binoculars, and gestures for Tina to look up.
Tina sees two silhouettes of birds flying just above the cliff edge near the waterfall, before the wand-binoculars automatically focuses and zooms in. One of the birds is considerably bigger than its partner, but they both have black as midnight feathers that seem to glint hints of blue in the sunlight.
Tina watches them circle the air, like they’re dancing around each other, and jumps when she hears Newt’s voice close to her ear, his breath soft against her skin.
“The Peregrine falcons are a muggle species,” Newt says and Tina can almost imagine how close his lips are against her neck. “But I’ve always found it fascinating how they can adapt in any environment.” He pauses as they both watch the smaller bird swoop down, its feathers fluttering in the wind. “They can nest in cliff tops, or even tall skyscrapers in the city.”
“Gotta love a city bird,” Tina says, trying to keep still and keep this moment from shattering.
“Yes,” Newt says, and Tina can’t see him but she can hear the lip curl in his voice, for some Boot-forsaken reason. “They’re birds of prey, and considered the fastest creature in the muggle animal kingdom.”
“So they’re hunters, too,” Tina comments. “My kind of bird.”
“Yes,” Newt says again. “I thought so. Their plumage is quite beautiful, isn’t it.”
Tina drops the wand-binoculars and turns around to face him. “Is it?” She teases him, wide-eyed and straight-faced. “All that black and gray, it’s a little – what do you Brits call it – dull.”
She can see him bristling, his hair seeming to go higher and even his freckles seemed flush. “On the contrary,” he says firmly, like he’s about to give a lecture and Tina has to bite her lip to keep from laughing again. “It’s quite sophisticated, their plumage allows them to blend into the background, particularly before they swoop in for the kill. It’s difficult to appreciate their beauty when they’re in full speed, but when they’re flying as they are now, they...they look quite...”
“Beautiful,” Tina finishes, now feeling a twinge of guilt for winding Newt up. “They look like they’re dancing.”
Newt turns his gaze to her, and the weight of his regard is like a brand on her skin. “They’re partners flying over their nest,” he tells her softly. “They mate for life, you see.”
Tina stares back at him steadily. “Good. I don’t want my city birds to be lonely. Even though the male half of their partnership is probably constantly distracting and distracted,” she adds with a grin.
Newt’s smile is so bright, it feels like it can warm up everything cold inside Tina. “I’m sure that’s not the case,” he replies loftily and takes her hand. “Come, there’s a spot further down that gives us a closer look on their nest.”
1
Tina stares at the white, cracked ceiling of her hospital room, trying to contain the pain in her body. She has a niggling urge to get up and relieve her bladder, but the damage to her ribs and left leg is keeping her immobile. Thank Boot Queenie got her a private room; Tina wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment of hobbling back and forth from bed to bathroom if anyone else was watching.
She lifts her head when the door opens quietly. A man in standard Healer robes comes in with a clipboard in one hand, his whole face covered with the surgical cap on his head and the white mask over his mouth.
The damned briefcase gives it away, though. And those damned piercing eyes, and those damned freckles, and damned Pickett blending in but not-quite while sitting on one green-robed shoulder.
“What are you doing here? ” Tina hisses. “Visiting hours closed two hours ago!”
Newt closes the door and walks to the side of the bed before kneeling down. He pulls down the mask over his face, his eyes roving over the scrapes on her temple, the bruises along her jaw. “Take this,” he says without preamble, and shoves a vial under her nose. Tina jerks back instinctively, blinking at the pearlescent liquid glowing in the tiny bottle.
“How did you get in here?” She asks while taking off the stopper and drinking the liquid inside. It was tasteless but thick, almost like a cream.
“Dougal has apparently been keeping an eye on you; I think he’s grown fond of you, and he gave me this vial, one of the many he’s been hoarding in his habitat. It has numerous healing properties, I tested it thoroughly myself. It should help with–”
Tina places a hand over Newt’s, and she marvels how that one movement didn’t hurt, not like when she tried hugging Queenie earlier during her sister’s visit. “Thank you for this, Newt,” she says, hoping her gratitude shines through. Newt pauses in his rambling and just looks at her. “But you could have saved that vial for something more important. My work covers a lot of health benefits, you know.”
Newt cups the clean side of her jaw with the gentlest touch, his fingers barely whispering over her skin. “Nothing is more important,” he says in a low voice. “And your work should give you all the benefits, with the constant risks you must take.”
She closes her eyes and leans her face against Newt’s hand. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you not answering my question,” Tina murmurs. “How’d you get in here, Newt?”
When he’s silent for more than a moment, just brushing a thumb against the line of her jaw, Tina opens her eyes again. Pickett has his twiggy arms crossed across his body, his long face turned accusingly at Newt, as if saying this is your fault, you explain it.
He pulls back his hand from her face and clears his throat. “I told them I was a Healer with a bone specialization and that I’ve been assigned to your case,” he finally admits.
Tina blinks. And blinks.
Then she bursts out laughing, the inexplicable joy and fondness overflowing in her. And she’s so glad that she took Newt’s vial because she’d probably be moaning in pain right now from how hard she’s laughing.
“You know,” she gasps out, wiping a stray tear from her eye as Newt and Pickett stare at her in bemusement. “In the films, the love interest usually just tells the nurse that he’s the husband and he demands to see the heroine.” She gets another fit of laughter. “Bone specialist, for Boot’s sake.”
The forming lip curl on Newt’s face falters, and he peers into her face anxiously. “Do you mind terribly?” he asks her suddenly. “That I’m not like the usual love interest in films?”
Oh.
And who is Tina kidding? The feeling that’s been welling up inside her isn’t just fondness or affection. She’s in love with Newt. She closes her eyes for a moment and lets it overflow inside her being until it seems to be tingling her very fingertips.
This time, she’s the one who cups Newt’s face, firmly lifting his chin until he meets her eyes. “I love that you’re not the usual love interest,” she says to him. And he stares at her wordlessly, looking dazed and amazed. She smiles when, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Pickett clapping his hands. “Thank you Pickett, maybe you can talk some sense into your minder.”
“Tina,” Newt says, sounding a little breathless, leaning closer and placing his hand over hers where she’s still touching him. “I–”
Tina never finds out what Newt was about to say because the night-shift nurse comes in and screams when she finds a man looming over her patient.
Tina laughs and waves goodbye to Newt and Pickett as they’re kicked out of her room.
+
“Oh, what’s this?” Newt comments casually.
Tina raises an eyebrow at him before turning to where he's looking. A small kneazle meows up at her from where it's curled up on her doorstep. Its glossy black fur is speckled with white, like stars in a night sky.
She sighs and bends down, offering her fingers for inspection. It leans its nose closer to her skin, pauses for a moment, then licks a fingertip. It jumps into Tina’s arms as soon as it gives its approval, and Tina sighs again before going inside her apartment. Newt follow silently behind her, but she can practically feel the smugness emanating from him, and Newt is almost never smug.
“It’s polite to ask if someone wants a pet before getting them one first,” she tells Newt sternly. The effect is probably ruined when she scratches the space between the kneazle’s ears.
“A kneazle is a wonderful companion, especially for an Auror,” Newt says instantly, almost as if he has a speech prepared exactly for this kind of conversation. “They’re highly intelligent and independent, they’re aggressive when need be, and they’re uncannily brilliant with spotting untrustworthy people.”
“That’s at least half of MACUSA, then,” Tina mutters. “You can’t honestly expect me to bring it to work?”
“You can, if you’d like,” Newt says, shrugging. “I already got you a licence for her, and she can...” Newt trails off, tilting his head slightly and his lips curling in that damnable smile.
“What?” Tina demands, ignoring how the kneazle sounds equally demanding while meowing in her arms.
“Nothing, it’s just,” Newt’s smile widens. “You're both wearing the same expression.”
Tina glances down at the lump of fur she’s holding. Since the kneazle is staring at Newt with the most unimpressed look, Tina can’t even imagine what her face is doing.
The kneazle stops looking so disinterested when Newt reaches out and scratches her chin lightly. Newt has obviously been taking care of it for a while, the way they’re butting fingers and whiskers together so familiarly. And it’s purring so loudly that Tina can feel the vibrations along her arms.
It’s ridiculous to feel jealous of a kneazle, Tina thinks to herself as she stares at the contented-looking feline in her arms and the happy expression on Newt’s face.
“I guess it might be nice to have another roommate in the apartment,” Tina finds herself saying, like another Tina is speaking for her.
The kneazle meows in agreement and allows one last scratch from Newt before hopping out of Tina’s arms and landing nimbly on its paws. They both stare at it as it starts sniffing the furniture in inspection.
“She can also stay here in your apartment. They’re very protective of their owners’ home,” Newt says, still looking so satisfied and smug and–
“Why won’t you kiss me?” Other-Tina asks. And she immediately wants to take back the words and let the ground swallow her whole.
Newt blinks at her. “I beg your pardon,” he says, polite and confused.
Well, there’s no helping it now. Tina straightens her shoulders and swallows the lump in her throat. “You get me a kneazle,” she says helplessly, waving a hand at said creature. “And you sneak into my hospital room after visiting hours, just because nothing is as important, so you say. You show me your secret haven for creatures. You bring me to beautiful places to watch hunter city birds who are mated for life, for Boot’s sake.” Tina takes a deep breath, willing her voice to stop rising. And she’s glad that the last part comes out pretty damned evenly: “So. Are we, or aren’t we, in a relationship where you can kiss me?”
“Tina,” Newt says helplessly. He jolts forward, as if he wants to jump to her side but is forcibly restraining himself from doing so. “You’ve got this all wrong,” he tells her earnestly.
“Oh,” Tina breathes, holding out a hand to the loveseat behind her. She sits down heavily, feeling like her heart has dropped from her chest. “I see.”
The kneazle, at least, seems to sense her distress and goes to her instantly. It rubs its nose against her leg before it sits on its hind legs and watches Newt dangerously, its black fluffy tail coiled like a whip.
Newt drops down on his knees and takes Tina’s limp hand, ignoring the hissing kneazle next to him. Tina can acutely feel the pen calluses and the scars of nicks and scrapes on his fingers. “I was – Theseus said–” Newt sighs, his eyes darting to her face, to their hands, to the ground, and back all around again. “My idiot brother strongly advised that I needed to court you properly, with the utmost proper decorum, that it was what was usually–”
“But I told you, didn’t I,” Tina says fiercely, feeling like she was being brought back from the dead. She laces their fingers together. “I told you. I love that you’re not the usual. Usual is boring.” And she leans down and kisses her stupid sweetheart.
It's a gentle press of lips, like a passing greeting. But Tina keeps her eyes open, because Newt is staring back at her with equal intensity, the blue in his eyes almost completely overblown by black. When he places a hand on her nape, his lips parting hers, Tina finally closes her eyes, her cheeks hot from Newt’s constant, pressing gaze.
Her heart is thumping against her chest when they pull apart, their foreheads still touching. Newt closes his eyes and brushes his lips against her cheek, breathing deeply, as if he were taking in the scent of her. Knowing Newt, it’s not unlikely. Tina shivers at the thought, and wraps her arms around his shoulders.
“What shall we name your kneazle?” Newt murmurs against her skin, his fingers trailing along her collarbone.
Tina glances at the kneazle, who was now directing her unimpressed glare at the both of them. She looks back at Newt, who was still busy touching her neck and throat, like he's cataloging these parts of her he can now touch. Tina gives into the impulse and kisses the constellation of freckles on the tip of Newt’s nose, grinning at his startled expression.
“You mean our kneazle. And we’re naming her Hoppy.”