Chapter Text
“Niffler, no,” Newt said in the way a man only can after the ten thousandth time he discovers his raccoon has stolen his neighbors silverware.
Newt always took time to clear out Niffler’s den about once a week. He and Niffler were both very lucky that their closest neighbor were more amused than angered by Niffler’s thefts. Their previous neighbors had nearly poisoned Niffler to death. If Newt hadn’t discovered it in time, they would have succeeded. He was only grateful that he’d been about to move when it happened. His current neighbors were much more accommodating.
At 34, Newt was a lingerie designer who used the money he made to fund an animal sanctuary that he’d converted from a farm. He’d lived in England for years, making many trips between his home in the country side to London, Paris or Milan. As he lived alone and had no friends at the time, it had made things very difficult. It made the move to America seem like a good idea.
It turned out better than he thought. He’d used the last of his inheritance to purchase nearly 200 acres of farm land in Upstate New York. It gave him plenty of land for his animals, and was shockingly close to the interstate. The drive could be grueling, but because of a good internet connection he didn’t need to drive into New York City all that often.
And when he did, his friend Jacob Kawolski, would come and animal sit.
Jacob actually came by for more than animal sitting. He and his new bride, Queenie Goldstein-Kawolski owned a local bakery. Newt found himself over at their store or apartment as often as the couple were over at his farm.
Newt was secretly very proud of himself for introducing them. The Goldstein sisters were the first models Newt chose to work with when he launched his first line from New York. The sisters stayed with Newt for a few nights before the shoots started. Queenie and Jacob hit it off instantly. They were married within the year. And Queenie’s homebody sensibilities and warmth combined well with Jacob’s kindness and good nature. The pair of them made delicious and creative pastries and meals.
Also, Queenie living Upstate meant that Tin was willing to brave the drive often enough that Newt got to see her regularly. She often stayed at his farm to not intrude on her sister and Jacob. Newt didn’t mind. He really loved having her over.
“Did Niffler steal the Armstrong’s silver again?” Tina asked, walking up behind Newt.
“Yes,” Newt said. He spotted Niffler walking out on his hind legs, a couple of shiny coins balanced in his paws. “You’re lucky Mrs. Armstrong things you’re funny,” he warned Niffler.
Niffler just dropped his coins in his den and hoped inside, efficiently stopping Newt’s cleaning efforts. Newt gave Niffler a disappointed look while Tina laughed behind him.
“Because, Newt. If you keep treating them like people, your animals are going to think they are people too,” Tina cautioned.
“Well,” Newt said, straightening up. “That’s not the worst thing. Are you packed to go?”
“That’s my line,” Tina said.
When Newt turned around he saw she had two mugs. He smiled and walked over, taking the mug from her. He pressed into her side. They stayed that way got a while, drinking their coco, watching the sun set. It was times like these that made Newt feel wistful. Tina was his most important almost.
They had spent a few months dancing around each other. Both put up roadblocks about it not being right since they were working together. But all of that eventually melted away. They were attracted to each other. They almost got together, but then Tina went back to New York City.
Tina loved the city. She would live there and die there and be buried there. Newt didn’t want that for himself. It wasn’t something they could reconcile. But that was fine. The few kisses they’d traded meant more to Newt than his entire first relationship. Newt had never known that kisses could have healing powers. Maybe it was just Tina, and the way she just wanted to give the world everything she had. She told Newt outright that he didn’t have to give into everything to make someone love him.
Their not getting together as a couple, but still being friends mended the damage done by his relationship with Lena Lestrange. He could say no. That didn’t make him unloveable.
Newt wasn’t certain exactly what he provided Tina, but she told him that he gave her something special too. The soft, warm smile she wore when she said that made him shiver. He ached that it hadn’t worked sometimes. Her sense of justice and sensitivity toward people made her good at her chosen “hobby”.
That was something else they had in common. Newt made lingerie because it funded his farm. Tina was a model because it funded her wish to help people. She and her fellow model, Seraphina Picquery formed a non-profit trying to combat injustice in the city. Newt made steady monthly donations, as did the Goldstein-Kowalskis.
“Are you looking forward to this week?” Tina asked.
“To a point,” Newt said. He was a quiet, awkward man. His friends had warmed him up, it was true. But that didn’t change his nature. Still, Lingerie Fashion Week was a chance for him to make contacts and sales.
Newt was an independent company. It wasn’t a very large company. He made a lot of designs at home. Sometimes people from his office would come out and see him. Every two weeks he would spent three days in the city at the office making certain things went well. He would do model fittings and help with the in-office fashion shoots. But since he didn’t come from a big label he had to work hard to get his clothes sold.
So he would do his best not to be too awkward, to make eye contact, to not get over anxious from the noise, lights and press of people. And he would be eternally grateful for the Goldstein sisters and for Seraphina actually having agreed to model for him for his last line. The three of them want the products to sell well. If they the Scamander label took off, then their work would get more recognition. And whatever connections they made for other work would still reflect well on him because they were currently working with him.
“It will go well. It did the last two years,” Tina pointed out.
“I know,” Newt said. “Not that it would go well without you.”
“It wouldn’t go well without you either,” Tina said with a little laugh. “We wouldn’t be there without you. Remember that.”
“I will,” Newt said quietly. He took one last deep breath of evening air. “Alright, we should go to bed. We have a long drive tomorrow.”
“You mean Queenie and I have a long drive,” she said.
“I do too,” Newt said. He drove all by himself to the city and back all throughout the year. But when it came time for Fashion Week and Lingerie Fashion Week, the sisters always seemed to do all the driving.
Tina only laughed a little. She kissed his cheek. “Come on, Newt. Let’s get to bed.” She took his hand and guided him in. His chest hurt a little again. He missed her already, knowing that he’d leave her behind when he and Queen returned after the week was over.
As much as Newt always dreaded this week, he also did enjoy it. The amount of creativity was always dizzying, as were the colors and the amount of beautiful people. But that was the fun as well. It only happened once a year. Newt promised himself silently that he would make the most of it this year.
Credence Barebone was one of the faces of Graves House Fashion. He had been for the past three years, since he’d turned 18 and left his mother’s house. Credence found this to be a little preposterous, since when he broke out, he was a lanky over large stork boy with a bad haircut. And the only thing that had changed since then was the haircut. Even that didn’t help. But Mr Graves assured him that he had a look that helped sell clothes. Apparently he was right, though Credence didn’t understand it.
But being the face of a fashion house had its perks. In this case it was a front row seat to a number of shows at Lingerie Fashion Week. Credence had been too scared to ask the year before if he could go, but this year he had a tiny bit of leverage that made him feel like he could ask.
His contract was up for renegotiations. Mostly he just didn’t know what he wanted except that he didn’t want to sign the damn thing. Mr. Graves wanted to keep him around, so he hadn’t pushed. And Credence was happy with that. He felt less tied down. But he also couldn’t imagine working anywhere else. Mr. Graves had saved him. There were many things that made Credence uncomfortable working for Mr. Graves, but Credence had figured out in the past three years that he was just an uncomfortable person.
And really, if people had anywhere near the amount of trouble talking to him as he had talking to him, it was a wonder Mr. Graves was willing to put up with him at all.
But this wasn’t about Credence. Well, his wanting to be there was. Mr. Graves had been surprised that Credence had asked to go to Lingerie Fashion Week with him.
“If you’re looking for boys in lingerie, you’re not going to see many. It’s mostly tits,” Mr. Graves said. That had made Credence’s heart flip over. Mr. Graves knew intimately that Credence only liked men. Mr. Graves was the only lover Credence ever had, and they weren’t even exclusive. It just happened sometimes.
Like when they’d had a big win, or a great show. And sometimes when Credence couldn’t stand to be still the way the photographers needed him to be. Or when he tried to withdraw when Mr. Graves needed him to be present. Then Credence would get fucked especially hard. Which he hated, but at least the pain gave him something else to focus on besides his own feelings of wanting to crawl out of his skin. It got him through whatever it was Mr. Graves needed him to get through.
So Credence supposed it was probably a good thing. Mr. Graves understood him. Credence anyone else would ever want to, once they realized just what a problem Credence was.
One of those problems was why he was on Mr. Graves arm. Mr. Graves walked him to their seats and sat him down. “I’m going to do business. Stay here and keep my seat warm,” Mr. Graves said and then walked off.
Credence did as he was told. For the most part he was good at that. The white folding chairs that were set up were absolutely frigid. He would move over when Mr. Graves returned and sit in his own seat. But Mr. Graves wouldn’t have to suffer this. Credence liked being helpful. And he didn’t want Mr. Graves to get upset and take them home early.
He put on his work face, which was blank with a side of angry. It kept people away, which was what he wanted.
Even though he knew he was queer, he didn’t have a problem with seeing naked women. He understood how women could be aesthetically pleasing. He just didn’t feel the same kind of attraction that he did to men, especially toward Mr. Graves. Credence knew that a lot of people thought gay men were disgusted by women’s bodies. But Credence wasn’t.
He also didn’t like being called gay. He was only comfortable with being called queer. But then, that was another one of his problems.
He tried to focus on just being happy to be there. No one approached him. He was grateful for that. When Mr. Graves returned, Credence moved over. It made him shiver to sit in the frigid seat when he’d only just warmed up. But Mr. Graves was close and he was always warm. It wasn’t so bad, even if Credence wasn’t supposed to snuggle against him like he wanted to.
Mr. Graves handed him a program. “There are three independent companies lined up for this exhibition,” he said.
“Yes,” Credence said, just to have something to say. He flipped through the program. They named the three independent designers and what label they were with. They had a picture of the design in black and white, and a couple of pictures of previous pieces, along with a bio and website and social information.
The show started very much the way that all other fashion shows started. The designer introduced themselves and their line and then got out of the way so the models could start walking. The first had a nautical theme that made Credence want to laugh. He definitely smiled. He knew he did because Mr. Graves gave his knee a squeeze. Mr. Graves only gave him those types of touches when Credence managed to smile. It was like a little reward.
The second one went for a more decadent look. The detailing was amazing, including the matching bra and panty set made out of pearls (or probably faux pearls, because real ones were too expensive). Only being stuffed in and out of clothes so much gave Credence the idea that this designer mixed expensive and inexpensive materials to try and make everything look very expensive. He didn’t see anything that looked like it would be comfortable to wear, but it made for a beautiful show.
Then came the third show.
The man came out wearing a gold-brown vest and a light blue dress shirt, and dark brown corduroy pants. He had the most perfect mop of wild gold and brown curls that Credence had ever seen. The man looked to be approximately entirely elbows and disorganization. And he smiled like he was almost too shy to stand up there with a microphone.
“Scamander Lingerie aims to serve all women,” the man said. Then he turned off the mic and walked back stage. The show began instantly. The song was light, like a field of flowers.
The first woman strode out. She had on mint colored lacy underwear, lacy green stockings with brightly colored gold stars on them, and white heeled boots. Across her shoulders lay a short feather boa with light teal feathers with shoots of white. There were adorable tassels at the end. Credence wanted to be wearing what she was wearing. He imagined that even on his exceptionally white skin that it would look good. The model’s skin was about as white as his, but looked healthy, while he always felt his looked sallow.
The woman was gold curls as well, but not like the designer. And she smiled broadly, and struck a cute pose at the end of the run way. She raised a leg, made a peace sign at the audience and kissed the air. She looked like she was having fun out there.
The second woman was larger, probably the largest plus sized model that Credence had ever seen on a run way. She wore bright orange, which stood out beautifully against her dark brown skin. She had a sheer orange robe which had a belt of ostrich feathers. She wasn’t as flamboyant as the previous model, but she also smiled instead of the normal dead face designers wanted their models to have.
The collection had fifteen pieces. No model had the same look. Only two models had the same body type and they were the only two white women among the models. The show ended with a model Credence knew as Seraphina Picquery. She was in large semi-sheer robe which had a beautiful royal blue underwear set underneath. They got a better look when Seraphina opened the robe. She didn’t smile, but she just had such a powerful presence that it carried her down the run way.
Credence found himself standing and clapping as the models and their designer all walked out for one last look. Each woman had her own personality, and that made the lingerie, even the very complex and daring pieces seem so much more wearable.
Credence was actually jealous of the models.
“Come on,” Mr. Graves said.
Credence followed after him. There was something of an after party for events like this. It was a chance for potential buyers to see the work up close, and for other business insiders to talk to the designers and the models. Mr. Graves had an invitation. And because he did, Credence did too.
They walked back past security to the lounge. Already models from the first two shows were standing or sitting around, waiting to talk to people, or quietly chatting with someone. Mr. Graves broke away, but Credence was happy with that. Mr. Graves would be looking for new models for his next line, or maybe he’d offer a designer a deal to sell something at the Graves store in New York. Credence didn’t care that much about business dealings. Normally he didn’t like being abandoned because he found it awkward to talk to people. But Credence had someone he wanted to talk to.
He spotted the model in the mint outfit first. He walked over to her. “Excuse me,” he said. He spoke firmly, like Mr. Graves taught him to.
The woman turned around and beamed at him. “Queenie Goldstein,” she introduced. She offered him her hand. He took her hand and shook it once before letting go.
“Credence Barebone,” he said.
“From Grave House?” she asked.
“Yes,” Credence said. “I liked your walk,” he said. He met her eyes and then looked at her nose. It was easier to talk to noses.
“Thank you. Newt really let us have free reign on this one. I’m glad too. I can already hear people talking. You definitely want people talking about a runway show,” she said.
His lips twitched. It was almost a smile. “Yes, you do. Can I ask you about your boa?” he asked.
“I love this thing. Newt has his own ostriches. He collects their feathers for his own shows, or outsources to reliable cruelty free Ostrich farms for sale products,” she said. She ran her hand down the boa.
“How did he come up with that?” he asked.
“Newt said it was based on a Victorian design,” she said.
“Is it comfortable?” Credence asked. “The outfit, I mean?”
Queenie giggled. “Yes. I test drive a lot of Newt’s designs. Wear them during a day. And of course, if my husband likes them, then we know they’re good.”
“You’re married? That’s nice,” Credence said. He liked the idea of being married and still working. It seemed so nice, to have a spouse that respected your work.
“Jacob’s one of a kind,” she said proudly. “Now, if you have other questions about the designs, you’ll want to talk to Newt.”
“Oh, yes, I haven’t seen him yet,” Credence said. He looked around, but he couldn’t see that distinctive mop of honey colored hair.
“Come on,” Queenie said. She took Jacob’s hand and dragged him over to a set of chairs in some back corner.
Like magic, there was the designer, sitting nursing a drink. Credence didn’t know how he didn’t have a ton of people around him, but he was alone.
“Honey,” Queenie called. The designer’s head shot up. He smiled at her until he noticed Credence. Then his smile turned nervous. “Newt, honey. This is Credence Barebone. He’s interested in your designs.”
“Oh, of course,” Newt said. He sounded nervous. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Barebone.”
“Credence is fine, Sir,” Credence answered.
“Call me Newt, please,” the man requested.
“Next,” Credence said. He licked his lips nervously. I really liked your collection. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions.”
“Not at all. Please, sit,” he said, indicating the seat next to him on the loveseat Newt Scamander had situated himself on.
Credence slowly sat down. He didn’t want to get too close to Newt Scamander. People didn’t like it when he got too close. He had to be careful not to cross boundaries.
“I’m going back to schmoozing,” Queenie said. “You be good, Honey,” she said. She winked at Newt. Sitting next to Newt like that, Credence got a front row seat to Newt’s face turning red.
“She seems very nice,” Credence said.
“She’s fantastic,” Newt said. “One of my dear friends, actually. And I love working with her. She’s very fun to work with.”
“I think she would be,” Credence said. “I told her I liked her walk.”
“Yes, well, I’ve never liked the idea of models being living mannequins. They’re giving people an idea of what the clothes would look like on them. And we all talked about it this time… I really like how it turned out.” Newt was smiling. It was still a nervous smile, but it was a smile.
“There was a lot of life in your pieces,” Credence wasn’t certain how else to describe it. They felt brand new, expensive, and run way show fun. But they also felt like they could and had been lived in. “I think that they’ll sell well.”
“I think so too,” Newt said. He looked really pleased. “We’ve had a rise in clientele the past few years. I’m very proud of what I’ve done this year. I think that we’ll be able to fulfill more orders.”
Mr. Graves talked about orders sometimes, but like they were just numbers. Newt sounded proud and mostly very happy. Credence liked that. He hoped that Newt would get good sales. Work like that deserved to be noticed and bought.
“Do you get orders at the show?” Credence asked.
“Sometimes. From models sometimes, or women or men who are interested in owning something,” Newt said.
Credence felt his face begin to heat up. He knew, of course that men wore lingerie sometimes. And Credence had pictured himself wearing such things. But he also knew he was not supposed to. And Newt said it so casually like of course men bought from him.
“I-I was talking about distributors,” Credence said. He convinced himself that he was.
“Oh… well, not really. I’m not great at talking to people,” Newt said.
Credence looked Newt in the eyes, only to realize that Newt wasn’t meeting his gaze. Credence dropped his gaze and just felt relieved. Someone he didn’t have to fight so hard to speak to.
“You talk to me just fine,” Credence pointed out.
“Yes, well,” Newt said. “It’s different with individuals. And one of my closest friends brought you over. Queenie is the best at reading people. And you’ve been very nice so far. You’re easy to talk to.”
“I think you’re easy to talk to,” Credence said. “I’m not great with people either… Newt, Mr. Scamander?”
“Newt, please,” Newt said.
“Newt,” Credence said, ignoring the way his cheeks started to warm again. Mr. Graves had drilled into his head that business always came first. “Would you like to sell your work through a larger distributor?”
“Yes, of course,” Newt said. “It would make things easier. I’m just not great at making contacts.”
“Well,” Credence started. He stopped and took a deep breath. “I know someone. I think that he might be able to help. At least get your things into one store in the city. Would you like to try?”
Newt perked up. “Really?”
“Yes,” Credence said. He smiled. He knew he was smiling. And Newt beamed up at him like the sun. Credence didn’t even know how a human being could smile so broadly.
Credence stood up silently. He offered his hand to Newt who took it instantly. Credence almost jolted. The last time he’d offered his hand to someone like that had been his little sister Modesty. His heart squeezed a bit whenever he thought about her, so he often didn’t.
Credence helped Newt up and then started leading him through the throng of scantily clad women, designers, agents, photographers and other guests. It wasn’t hard for Credence to find Mr. Graves. He always seemed to be able to home right in on him. Mr. Graves was talking to a photographer, which meant Credence was probably safe to interrupt him.
“Mr. Graves,” Credence said, cutting in.
“Credence,” Mr. Graves said. He sounded a little annoyed. Credence noted the way his expression changed just a little when he saw that Credence was holding Newt’s hand. It wasn’t anger, but Mr. Graves wasn’t happy. He didn’t want to exacerbate Mr. Graves’ mood, so Credence quickly dropped Newt’s hand.
“Mr. Graves, this is Newt Scamander, the designer of the third collection,” Credence said. He turned to look back at Newt. Newt wasn’t smiling now.
“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Scamander,” Mr. Graves said. Credence felt a strong arm loop around his waist and pull him next to Mr. Graves. Now Credence got a really good look at Newt. He seemed very closed off. Maybe that’s what Newt meant by not good at talking with people.
“And you,” Newt said. He cast his eyes from probably somewhere around Mr. Graves chest over to Credence. For a half second, Credence and Newt were looking into each other’s eyes. Then Newt cast his gaze aside. And Credence understood. Their gaze meeting was an accident. Looking in someone’s eyes was uncomfortable. Although for whatever reason, Credence had less trouble looking at Newt’s eyes. Maybe it was because Newt also didn’t do well with eye contact.
“Mr. Graves, I was thinking maybe Mr. Scamander’s line would work for you woman’s section in the store. You were saying that you wanted to include more lingerie,” Credence said.
Mr. Graves pursed his lips. “I’m not certain that Mr. Scamander’s line fits with our aesthetic.”
“Well, the last piece, the one Seraphina Picquery wore first perfectly. And there are others similar enough. And they all seem to go together. And you always say that sometimes you need to be different to get attention,” Credence said. Mr. Graves gave him a look. Credence didn’t know why he was fighting so hard. He normally didn’t. He just thought this was a good idea. And with Newt standing there, Credence didn’t feel like he could give anything less than his best.
“This is true,” Mr. Graves said. He looked back at Newt and Credence followed his gaze. “Credence makes a good point. Mr. Scamander, how would you like sell your lingerie at the Graves House store?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Newt said tersely.
“Newt,” Credence said. He was shocked. He actually felt hurt. Mr. Graves was going to be angry about this. Credence had actually fought for something. He normally would never question Mr. Graves, especially not in front of people. And a photographer was still standing nearby.
“I’m sorry, Credence. But Mr. Graves was correct. Our… aesthetics don’t match. I appreciate the offer, Mr. Graves. I’m sorry.” Newt bowed his head and he looked at Credence one last time. Then he turned and walked away.
The photographer turned and walked away too. Credence just hoped the man hadn’t gotten pictures of them all talking. It might be bad for Graves House Fashions.
“I’m so sorry Mr. Graves,” Credence said quietly. Mr. Graves still had his arm around him, but as warm as it was and as much as Credence had wished for it earlier, it now made him feel cold.
“Why did you bring that man over to me?” Mr. Graves asked. With his mother, Credence could always tell when he was in trouble. With Mr. Graves he could never really tell.
“I liked his work,” Credence said. “He was talking about wishing more people would buy his work. You said you were looking for something new… if I’d known he was going to do that I never would have brought him over.
Mr. Graves ruffled his hair. Credence let out a sigh of relief. He’d escaped trouble, for now anyway.
“You have been listening to me. That’s nice to know. But it seems like you don’t have much head for business,” Mr. Graves said.
Credence looked off the direction Newt had gone, disappearing into the crowd. “I suppose not,” he said quietly.
“I don’t understand,” Queenie said slowly. She sounded unhappy, but not the furious Tina had been before they’d parted ways. “Percival Graves offered to feature your work, our work in his New York store. This would have been a big break for the brand. And yet you turned him down.”
“It felt wrong,” Newt said. He looked out at the road. Queenie was driving. It had taken Newt until Lingerie Fashion Week to tell the Goldstein sisters that he’d had an offer from one of the premier New York designers. And then he’d only told because Seraphina read it online from a reporter who had apparently been nearby when Newt was talking to Graves and Credence.
“You have to give me more than that, Newt,” Queenie said.
“He… Credence dragged me over and Graves looked at us like Credence touching me was a sin,” Newt explained.
“Oh,” she said.
“I know an abused animal when I see one,” Newt said.
“Humans don’t always react like animals,” Queenie reminded him.
“And they don’t always not,” Newt reminded her back.
Queenie didn’t say anything. Newt had to turn and look at her to get a read on what he silence meant. She was frowning and her eyes were fixed on the road.
“I didn’t like that Graves grabbed Credence like that. It felt like I’d touched something he owned. I don’t want to work with a man like that.” Newt looked down at his knees.
“I understand,” Queenie said quietly.
“Do you forgive me?” Newt asked.
“For not making the deal,” Queenie said. “But Newt, you haven’t been alone for a while. You share things like this with your friends. Especially because it’s bothering you so much.”
Newt couldn’t argue with that. So he didn’t.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Newt said. “I should have told you and Tina. I’ll call her tonight and explain.”
“Remember to use your words this time,” Queenie said, teasing him gently. He could tell by her tone of voice that she was smiling.
Newt smiled at his knees. “I will, I promise.”
“We need you both to be alright with each other for New York Fashion Week,” Queenie said.
“That’s more than a month and a half away,” Newt said, wrinkling his nose.
“And that’s an awful long time to be mad at someone,” Queenie responded.
“Yes, but I’m not going to let it get that far,” Newt said. “I promise.”
“How about I pull over at the next exit and you can call.” Queenie would probably do it anyway even if Newt swore he’d call later. Queenie didn’t like when Newt and Tina were fighting. She especially didn’t like it when it was an apparent easy fix.
“Okay, Queen,” Newt said. He didn’t want to make either sister worry. They didn’t deserve it. Tina was just thinking about all of their jobs. Newt shouldn’t have gotten so upset with her. And she would understand too once he explained. He could always trust that about Tina.
“Do you really think Credence Barebone has been abused?” Queenie asked.
Ys, he did. But Newt had been wrong before. He didn’t want to be right on this. “I don’t know.”
“We’ll keep an eye out. We’ll be at New York Fashion week as well,” she said.
Newt nodded until he realized that Queenie probably couldn’t see that he’d done so. “The face of Graves House Fashion,” Newt murmured. Of course Credence would be there.
“Don’t worry about it too much, Honey,” Queenie said. “There isn’t much to do right now. And you need to get everything down for the show at Fashion Week.”
“I won’t lose focus,” Newt said. “Promise.”
“I know you won’t,” Queenie said. “Just try not to worry too much.”
“I’ll do my best,” Newt said. He didn’t like promising things he wasn’t certain he could keep. Especially not to his friends.