Chapter Text
The stale air was laced with antiseptic and calming spells, hanging heavily as if to preserve the fact its occupants were in a healing cocoon of sorts. This was far from the first time he had been in St Mungo’s, a lifetime of working with dangerous beasts had afforded him every opportunity to be familiarized with the facilities. He was himself injured and comatose for three days prior, coming to with what the healers considered unnatural speed-his body was used the abuse he reckoned. This injury however had nothing to do with beasts and everything to do with a monster, one that walked on two legs calling himself wizardkind’s salvation.
Heavy and dark, those were the initial stirrings he sensed that day followed by abject terror, it was indescribably the worst feeling he’d yet to experience. He, Theseus, and Tina had managed to save Leta and Credence from Grindelwald’s underground prison along with countless beasts and children. Directing everyone safely to port key was hard fought and required the assistance of many French aurors, still the losses were great. There too, the air became stagnant as the sky blackened and filled with dementors. Theseus has seized his collar urging him to take Leta to safety, but he couldn’t, not until he found Tina. He tore away from his brother’s grasp searching frantically when he stopped, horrified, watching from across the battlefield as Tina was hit with a spell sending her to the ground-a cruciatus curse. She rallied and disarmed her opponent staggering as she surveyed the evacuation progress, he yelled to her and she heard, still she turned and ran toward the impending mass of despair.
He stood frozen as the other aurors either collapsed under the onslaught or fled to safety; Tina on the other hand, was running toward her death so that they could escape. His world seemed to cave in around him, there was no scenario on Earth where he could allow her to die, he still had a promise to keep. Tina had seen her share of sorrow, he supposed that was why they were drawn to her. Even now he still isn’t sure where it came from, the strength to cast a patronus that powerful but all he thought of was her, saving her, protecting her. Darkness took him as well, the cost of casting such a spell. He could only think to shield her further before collapsing, diving atop her limp form and tucking her safely beneath his own.
In the end Theseus had rescued them both -ever the hero- and following a firm scolding from his brother he was apprised of Tina’s condition. Her prognosis was unknown she had suffered multiple curses and attack from a barrage of dementors, even if she woke there was no precedent; she may never be able to recover fully. Potions thus far had little effect so he sat by her bedside holding silent vigil, grasping her hand, talking to her, making her aware of his presence. He was all she had left now, Queenie had chosen her side and taken his best friend with her. Theseus visited daily and made futile attempts to get him to go home a night or two and sleep in an actual bed. Leta and his mother also took turn, but his stubborn protective nature would not allow for it, and they left much the way they came.
It had been a week and a half spent either caring for his creatures or sat at Tina’s bedside when curiosity got the better of him. Tina’s personal effects were lain out in the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed, the contents were sparse, her clothes were folded neatly beside which rested her wand and ID badge. A dull gold necklace caught his eye and simultaneously squeezed his heart, it was the locket he’d seen around her neck every day since they’d first met. Picking it up without thought, Newt was determined that it should be where it belonged, gracing her neck. Turning the heavy egg shaped locket in his hand he was suddenly struck with a need to know what lay inside the battered and worn keepsake.
Losing out to temptation he spared an apologetic glance at Tina before clicking the opening, etched within was a rough inscription in Tina’s own hand which read, ‘my reasons for fighting’. Taken aback he realized her locket was magicked much the same as his suitcase, likely holding personal mementos and keepsakes she held dear. Tipping the locket several pictures floated down to scatter across her bed.
Collecting them he caught glimpse of those he had seen mere months ago in the death potion, the image of her parents holding a wriggling Tina and infant Queenie. Setting the photograph aside, the next was of Queenie hugging her sister delightedly as she sported her graduation robes, Thunderbird pin displayed proudly, smiling he noted that Tina’s hat marked her as top of her class. “So you’ve always been extraordinarily clever, have you?” The next image brought stinging to his eyes that could not be helped, Jacob and Queenie posed purposefully toward the camera as they both showcased a ring, a testament to their newly promised love. Picking up the last showed the sisters in beautiful dresses attired as if for a coming out ceremony, Tina couldn’t have been more than sixteen but she was so lovely he couldn’t help staring. While she laughed freely with her sister, petals from a nearby tree landed haphazardly in her long wild hair, he wondered at how things might have been different had he know her then. Lips twitching into a smile he looked to Tina, “Actually had you been sixteen then I’d have been twenty, a bit too old for you....then anyway.”
Tipping the locket further a letter and a book of constellations, meant to chart navigation, fell open. The letter as well as the book appeared to be from a Professor of Tina’s encouraging her pursuits at MACUSA. The book was inscribed: P. Esther Goldstein, Always remember that even though it sometimes feels as if you’re being suffocated by darkness, keep shining for you light the way for others to follow. -Prof. Lally. Newt would have remember to ask Tina about this teacher that seemed to know her so well.
The next object required several firm shakes but finally landed on the floor with a thud. Newt’s heart leapt to his throat, “Fantastic beasts and where to find them” lay glaring at him. He could all but hear her saying the words aloud over the bustling noise of a New York dock. Green eyes began to cloud over and before he could think to breath again, tears were streaming down his face. Gently picking up the book he cradled it as an infant, gazing wonderously at Tina’s still unconscious form.
She had included his book in amongst her most treasured belongings, keeping it alongside those precious memories worn next to her heart, providing strength in times of darkness. His heart broke at the idea, she must have thought he’d forgotten of his promise, regardless of that fact she purchased the book herself. The spine was well worn and even though it had just been released, it was apparent that this copy had been enjoyed many times. Reaching across Newt squeezed her hand gently, looking more closely he noticed that there were strips of paper sticking out of her copy. Opening to the title page he couldn’t stop the choked sob as he gazed upon his own face in the society pages of the ‘Daily Prophet’, behind which were varying articles recounting his numerous exploits and of course details of his personal life.
Collecting himself Newt scrubbed at his eyes, then taking her hand once more he lifted it to plant a kiss at her fingers. Releasing a shaky breath he turned to the first marker noting his entry on Bowtruckles, he’d have continued but a penned notation caught his eye, ‘Pickett-has attachment issues’. He could almost imagine Pickett chirping his thoughts to the contrary. Leafing through the place markers at random the entry on ‘Nifflers’ certainly caused him to laugh aloud. She, in her notes, queried as to why he hadn’t been named, supposing that the niffler was in fact male she’d penned a suggestion: ‘Hmm suggest name to Newt maybe....Dillinger?’
Continuing his exploration he read through the many small notes, comments, questions, and even name suggestions; Newt could no longer contain the full grin that split his face. He learned she had a special fondness for Dougal, a tendency toward avian species, and a wariness of anything in the genera serpentes. An envelope labeled, ‘Surprise for Newt’, was tucked into the entry on Thunderbirds and dedicated to tracking Frank’s last known location. A letter enclosed was addressed from a colleague in New Mexico that had written to her describing two thunderbirds circling one another in flight, the one having a noticeable scar across its beak. A wizarding photograph provided evidence of two thunderbirds engaged in a mating dance.
“Well Frank it looks as if you’ve found a mate old friend, it only took you a journey half way round the world to find her.” Smiling softly to himself he placed the contents back into the envelope as he looked once again on Tina’s still form before whispering a heartfelt, “Thank you”. Her final note was the entry on unicorns, beside which words written in Tina’s hand, ‘I’d love to see one someday -ask Newt where to find them.’
Shutting the book he placed it inside her locket along with the other momentos before once again wiping the tears from his eyes. A giver, the feelings washing over him were of warmth security and love. He thought he knew what it was to love another, but this like so many things Newt was still finding his way. Looking at Tina he thought on all the ways she put others before herself...including him. This magnificent selfless witch had sparked something in him months ago in New York, a small kindling, ever growing. The fire in his past burnt fast, strong and hot; it also overwhelmed and burned him before dying suddenly. Tina’s was a constant warmth, growing slowly, becoming sturdy and strong, filling him with want -a need really- to always bask in its light.
Reaching inside his coat pocket he searched out a small but vastly important book.... the very first copy of “Fantastic Beasts” printed, it had long been waiting for hand delivery to the woman lying on the hospital bed before him. Another brief search left him frustrated, surely he had his quill! A murmured accio found Newt’s hand poised to write....these would be the most important footnotes he’d ever pen in his life.