Chapter Text
Two cups of freshly poured tea lay on the dining table, tendrils of heart slithering through the cold morning air. Two figures sat across the other, avoiding the gaze of the other.
Tina bit her lips, looking around at the course finish of the kitchen. The room extended to a small glass room that house Newt’s herbs. The area was made of two separate dimensions, separated only by a wall of sculpted metal and glass. The one they were currently sitting on scrubbed clean, courtesy of Newt’s household charms, whereas plants and various tools littered the overlooking work table. From one of the vines overhanging the room, she could spot a small group of bowtruckles making their way across trees.
Tina glanced at Newt, “Where’s Pickett?”
As if on cue, the thin limbs of the small creature appeared from behind Newt’s neck. Slowly, it showed itself, making small steps from the slope of Newt’s shoulder, to his arm, to his roughened hands. The curious look in its face made Tina smile, and the creature gave a small squeal. Pickett stopped in front of her, the curious look now gone. Its eyes narrowing, the creature’s limb began tapping at the edge of the table on her side.
“Pickett’s become…ah, overprotective aside from having attachment issues,” Newt commented, clicking his tongue. “Come on now, Pick. Don’t chase Tina away.”
Guilt crept into her chest, gripping her heart a little tighter than it used to. Pickett moved away, but not without stomping its miniscule feet on her thumb. The little thing did no harm, but Tina couldn’t help brushing her thumb to comfort herself. She could hear Newt reprimanding the little thing, and held her tongue before she could say anything she didn’t mean.
From the depths of her purse, she reached for a box of pastries from the Kowalski’s bakery, kept fresh by the warming charm she placed before she left. She summoned plates and utensils from the cabinet, setting the table for a decent breakfast.
Newt looked at her from beneath the wave of his mane, and she could easily imagine hearing his stomach growling in hunger.
“Dig in,” Tina motioned her hand, letting Newt lead.
The quiet breakfast they had felt familiar. Newt, who once avoided having preferences, chose the breads with meaty fillings. She stuck to her almond croissant, the attention from the buttery feel of food against her tongue only second to watching the man across her. A tentative smile played on his lips with every bite.
His face was gaunter than the last she saw him, the map of freckles gracing his skin more prominent with the apparent paleness of his skin. His lips, usually chapped from winds from his travels, were also paler. Shadows lingered around his eyes, the usually bright orbs only gaining a hint of luster after beginning his meal. His shoulders were more hunched, and his hands more tired as evidenced by its occasional trembling.
She hated seeing him like this. She hated causing these difficulties especially to him – the fragile yet steady man who gave more love than any other she’d known.
Tina placed her croissant down. “The publishing house sent a letter about the sales of your book and your plans for a new edition. They thought by coursing it through me, you would finally mind them.”
“I have no plans.”
Tina took a deep breath, drowning her nervousness with her cup of tea. “They were also asking about the new creatures that were discovered during the war.”
“I have no plans. They’re extinct. Whatever knowledge I have will be of no use.”
His nonchalance was testing her. “Nothing is certain unless you’ve seen it with your eyes. You told me that once.”
Newt’s eyes met hers, the hardness in his gaze foreign as it is directed to her. “What are you truly here for, Tina?”
Because I want to apologize, to reconcile, to come home. Because I miss you and the bed felt like an endless sea without your warmth beside me. Because I’m so, so lonely and I’m in the wrong—
There were so many words left unsaid, instead replaced by slamming of doors and thumping of footsteps until they disappear. Words replaced by months of solitude, of waking every morning to battle demons of the world when her own demons lurked around the four corners of the small, empty room. Words replaced by the absence of cries of hunger, and of rumble of baritone that comforts the child as it would have fed.
“I want to see my husband,” Tina answered, holding the man’s gaze.
“Do you still have one?” Newt asked hesitatingly.
Her chest felt heavy as tears prickled her eyes, threatening to fall. Almost a year had passed, and not a single day did it hurt for her to come to an empty home.
But they had to try.
“Yes, I do. He is sitting in front of me, and I wonder if I may speak with him.” Tina paused, swallowing the sob about to choke her. “We’ve wasted so much time apart already.”
Heavy breaths punctuated the silence that wrapped them.
Newt’s seat clattered to the ground as he suddenly stood, hands grabbing the table. He gripped tightly, his knuckles turning white. Tina remained mum.
Calloused hands ran through his bronze mane, leaving it more disheveled. “I…uh…I…I need to feed the h-hippogriffs.”
In a flash, Newt was out of the room.
Sighing, Tina closed her eyes, questioning the point of coming at all.
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At the fourth month of her pregnancy, Tina’s slim body began accommodating the swell caused by her growth of her child.
She had always been tall and slim throughout her childhood, so the sudden change in her figure was quite problematic. She was fortunate that Queenie had a flair for fashion, and alterations of her clothes were done inconspicuously. Her appetite, after the third month of the child, finally returned and even improved. The vomiting was also resolved. Tiredness would usually hit her after eating lunch, and was grateful for the flexibility of her hours granted by her promotion. She still wouldn’t shy away from field work and wouldn’t plan on telling her superior, much to Newt’s disappointment.
He returned a fortnight after receiving an urgent message from Tina, his disheveled appearance a reflection of his worries. He rushed to the small library of the Goldstein sisters’ apartment, holding Tina’s hand as she shared the news.
A happy Newt was a delight to watch. An ecstatic Newt, on the other hand, was a sight to behold.
With a strength she didn’t expect, Tina was lifted off the floor, Newt twirling them as he laughed and cried with reckless abandon. Thoughtful Queenie was a dear to set their home with silencing charms, knowing that the moment must be celebrated. She joined the duo in their embrace, silent tears also streaming down her cheeks.
To Tina’s surprise, the night was filled with planning for the coming child. War is brewing across magical continents, and the safety of Tina and her child matters first.
“But first, we must marry,” Newt raised his opinion, surprising the dark-haired Goldstein sister. Queenie watched them knowingly, certain of the outcome.
Tina’s eyebrows scrunched, her pessimism rearing its ugly head. “I’d love to marry you, Newt, but the ministry isn’t the safest place these days. I’ve been keeping my pregnancy from MACUSA and opted instead to seek care from a muggle healer—“
“That’s it!” Queenie clapped, reaching for her sister’s hand. “A muggle wedding! I hear marriage licenses are quite accessible. We could tweak the records to keep these under the wraps. Oh, what a splendid idea! Hiding in plain sight!”
Relief washed over Tina upon gaining her sister’s approval. There were still holes in the plan, she is certain, but at least they could start on something.
Newt called her name, gaining her attention. “I…apologize. I wish I could give you more. I mean, I could, but our circumstances—“
Tina closed the distance between them by pulling him by his nape, their nose brushing against the other. “This is no one’s fault.”
Newt reached for her, steadying himself with her shoulder. Amidst Queenie’s babbling about preparations to be undertaken, Tina found solace in the arms of her gentle lover.
If only their efforts will suffice to protect their little family.