Love in Bloom

A continuation (of sorts) for my story "Blizzard of love", my submission for the Fantastic Beasts Secret Santa and the lovely ravens-and-writings.

CHAPTER 1

Warm light and soft laughter filled the air when they popped into existence on the fine rug in Newt's drawing room. Jacob and Queenie had retired to the sofa in front of the fireplace and turned the lights down low to build a fire in the hearth; its golden glow illuminated their faces and the smells of roasting chestnuts lingered in the air. It was perfect, so warm and full of life, and Newt found his flat had never felt so much like home.

They seemed entirely engrossed in their conversation and Newt, unwilling to disturb the idyllic scene before them, put a finger to his lips, indicating to Tina to follow him. Neither of them noticed Queenie's knowing look or the happy giggles escaping her lips as she tuned into their thoughts.

His case lay propped open in a corner of his bedroom and he didn't hesitate, swiftly lifting the lid and stepping down the narrow staircase with practised ease.

Tina followed on unsteady feet, consciously picking her way and trying her hardest not to miss a step, blindly groping the wall for purchase.

Every time she entered the case it felt like peeking into his very soul; a place where he shed unnecessary layers of clothing along with his stiffly-tailored suit of social expectations, where he could be entirely free.

He had upheld part of his stilted mannerisms the first few times she had visited in a lukewarm attempt to follow social decorum, losing his great coat and suit jacket upon entering the shed but leaving his waistcoat and bow tie intact.

Things had changed with time and, knowing he felt comfortable enough with her to show his true self, she felt honoured to join him in his personal sanctuary. When the inside of his shed came into view he had already freed himself of his jacket and waistcoat, entirely unconcerned, shirt untucked and his bow tie hanging loosely around his neck.

Newt reached for her at the bottom of the steps, his left arm wrapping securely around her waist while his right hand cradled her elbow. He stepped away reluctantly when her feet reached solid ground, his eyes and fingertips lingering on her skin as he struggled to put distance between them.

"I think it might be prudent if we take on separate tasks this evening. There's something I'd like to show you and I have a feeling we might be a little more effective this way," he murmured, giving weight to his words as he lifted a hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.

"Are you saying I'm distracting you, Mr Scamander?" she said with a saucy grin, showing the dimple in her right cheek, and he swayed closer again, drawn in by the amused twinkle in her eyes.

"You'll always have my full attention, Miss Goldstein," he said, angling his head, his face mere inches from her own.

She flailed at the look of wonder in his eyes, and her heart lurched at his soft smile and openly admiring gaze.

He closed the gap and captured her lips in a firm, unhurried kiss, silencing her thoughts and making her heart sing. Tina sighed into his mouth, pulling him closer by the loose ends of his bow tie and pressed into his warmth.

"Hmmm, didn't you say something about feeding rounds?" she murmured after some time, tasting the answering grin on his lips and sensing the echo of his laughter on her fingertips as he pulled her tight against his chest, ignoring her words entirely.

A loud crash sounded off in the distance and Newt stepped back with a groan, dropping his hands against his sides and turning to glance over his shoulder. "That'll be Dougal looking for his dinner. Come on then, we better start."

—

He found her half an hour later, kneeling on a blanket of leaves in front of the wandwood tree, offering woodlice to a wary group of bowtruckles. Newt stepped closer, lips pulling into an amused half smile at the scene before him. Dougal faded in and out of visibility where he hovered two paces behind an exasperated Tina, arms stretched out before him as if ready to intervene should the need arise.

The demiguise had shadowed her from the moment she had set off for the feeding rounds and Newt had watched the unlikely pair make their way through the case, intrigued by this new development.

Tina's nature was so different to his own; where he was quick and fidgety and always on the move, she was calm and collected, stoically following her path in precisely-measured steps. She was his exact opposite, yet the creatures seemed to accept her entirely and without question, just as if she'd always been there, like she'd belong here with them. With him.

"I don't think they like me very much," Tina commented, rising to her feet as she sensed his presence behind her.

"Don't worry yourself," he commented, stepping up next to her. "They don't really like anyone at the moment, annoying little buggers. Come on, there's something I'd like to show you."

He held out his hand for her to take and pulled her to her feet, leading her through the wandwood and into a small clearing where he brushed aside the branches of a willow tree like parting a curtain. They stepped into an unfamiliar habitat and Tina grinned at the sight, shielding her eyes against the sun and delighting in the warmth caressing her skin.

A wide, sweeping grassland opened up before her, ringed by an array of knobbly old trees and bathed in the soft, golden light of late spring in the English countryside.

There was a slight elevation at its centre, crowned by a single, ancient horse chestnut tree. It was magnificent, and formidable in size, with its vast, leafy branches spread wide in welcome.

Tina was awestruck as she looked around, wondering what sort of magical creature was inhabiting this extraordinary space. The grass below was long and soft, gently swaying in the fragrant breeze, and she was suddenly struck with an intense longing to feel it against the bare soles of her feet. Birds were singing in the trees and there was the sound of crickets chirping in the distance.

She felt weightless, perfectly serene. Entirely at peace.

Newt stood at the very centre of the pasture, lifting two fingers to his lips to produce a sharp, shrill whistle and Tina blinked against the light, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she detected movement from the corner of her eye.

Something large appeared at the edge of the trees, flying at them in a blur of silver and gold. It was a winged horse of formidable size, wild and beautiful to behold, with snowy wings that caught the light like the mother of pearl buttons on Newt's shirt and a golden fur shimmering like liquid metal.

Tina allowed herself a moment of worry, holding her breath and clenching her fingers at her sides as she watched the creature barrel towards Newt at breakneck speed. He spread his wings and dug his hooves into the ground at the last moment, screeching to a halt mere inches from Newt's face, and Tina gasped, pressing a hand to her racing heart.

He seemed unperturbed, stepping closer with a series of hums and low murmurs that sounded suspiciously like a whiny, clicking his tongue at the magnificent beast when he bent his neck in welcome. Newt turned his head, blowing a small stream of air into his nostril and smiled when the horse shook his enormous head with a high-pitched squeak before reaching out to run his fingers from his nose to his forehead, rubbing the space between his eyes.

"He's beautiful, Newt," Tina said while tentatively shuffling closer, carefully maintaining a safe distance from the shimmering steed and his hooves the size of dinner plates.

"Magnificent, isn't he? He's an Abraxan winged horse," Newt said in way of explanation. "I found him at a farm down in Kent, his owner didn't realise what he was or that he's much too young to do any work. Odd fellow, and not very skilled at concealment charms at that."

"You mean he's not fully grown yet?" she asked in mild disbelief, eyeing the golden creature that was already larger than any horse she'd ever encountered.

Newt had walked around the beast, fingers never leaving his glossy fur as he came to stand at his flank. The creature lowered his head and spread his wings for him to inspects his feathers, and Newt ran his hands through the lustrous scapulars at the base, gently putting them to rights. "No. He's just a baby."

Tina looked at him, one eyebrow raised in incredulity, not quite sure whether baby was precisely the word she would have chosen to describe him.

"Here, would you like to feed him? He's a wee bit shy of strangers, but I think he might trust you enough to let you close," he said, fishing a piece of apple from his pocket and holding it out for her to take.

Tina reached out, accepting the fruit with a hesitant glance as Newt smiled at her in encouragement. "You're not expecting me to whinny too, right? Because I'm not doing that," she declared and he laughed, shaking his head.

Relieved, she moved closer, carefully averting her eyes like he'd taught her, making herself appear as small and unthreatening as possible and extending her arm towards the horse. He took an audible whiff of her scent, breathing shallowly as he slowly bent his neck towards her, extending it as far as he could reach before taking a tentative step in her direction.

"That's it, Tina. Let him come to you," Newt said, obvious pride lacing his voice, positively beaming at her. "Now open your hand, put the apple at the centre of your palm and hold it flat, like a plate. He won't bite. Here, like this."

He stepped up behind her, gently uncurling her fingers and supporting them from below, his free hand a comforting presence on her shoulder as the horse plucked the apple from her palm. The creature's breath was warm on her skin, his nose incredibly soft as his lips gently skimmed her hand. She stared at him in wonder, extending a single finger to rub the silky fur between his nostrils, delighted when he didn't move away and continued to sniff her hand.

Newt stood close behind her, his front a solid line of warmth down her back and she suddenly found it hard to concentrate on anything but his alluring smell and the heat emanating from his body.

"He trusts you, see?" He whispered close to her ear and she shivered in reaction. "That's it, Albert. She won't hurt you."

Tina snickered, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles and the spell was broken. "Albert?" she chortled. "Really?"

"It's a good, strong name," he said a little defensively, smiling all the while and rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "It means noble and bright, and if it's fit for a prince consort —"

"— it's a perfectly reasonable name for a golden horse. Of course. I didn't expect anything less from you," she teased good-naturedly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, thoroughly endeared when he bashfully ducked his head, a soft blush colouring his cheeks.

Her hand moved to his face on its own accord, gentle fingers moulding to the angle of his jaw and encouraging him to lift his gaze to hers. "Don't hide from me," she breathed and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. "I meant what I said before. I adore you, Newt. All of you. Funny horse noises and all."

He laughed at that, smiling toothily before leaning close, softly butting his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for a time, wrapped up in each other, and Newt had just moved in for a kiss when something pumped into him from behind. He sighed, putting a finger to her lips.

"Hold that thought for just a moment," he whispered before stepping away, and she bit her lip to keep herself from grinning like a fool.

Albert had crept up close to them, rubbing his head against his caretaker's side and chewing on his trouser leg; whether he was looking for more treats or simply demanding attention Tina couldn't say. Newt dug around in his trouser pockets, retrieving two tiny objects before Enlarging them and she gawked at the bottles in his hand. He Summoned an iron basin and emptied their contents into it.

"Single Malt Whiskey. It's the only thing he will drink, I have not yet figured out why," he explained and Tina refrained from asking just exactly how he'd thought of feeding liquor to his horse.

Albert moved towards the basin with eager steps, lowering his head to the surface and pursing his lips to take large, greedy pulls of the amber liquid. Tina shook her head, intrigued, before accepting Newt's hand and following into the inviting shade of the chestnut tree. He lowered himself onto the ground, toeing off his boots and extending his legs before patting the space in the grass beside him.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, tapping a finger against her chin and pretending to give the matter some thought, suddenly feeling playful. "Grass stains are notoriously difficult to charm out of white clothes."

"I can get you one of the blankets in my shed if you'd be more comfortable — oomph!" Newt cut himself off, landing clear on his back with an armful of Tina. She'd meant to deposit herself in his lap but had miscalculated, toppling them over to land in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs instead. Graceful as always, Goldstein, she chided herself.

She pushed herself up on her elbows and a wave of chestnut hair fell into her face, partially concealing the healthy blush blooming on her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip and lowering her gaze in embarrassment.

"It's quite alright," he rasped hoarsely, lifting a hand to gently tug the lock of hair back behind her ear before using his thumb to free her lower lip.

She found and held his gaze, intrigued by the small flecks of gold revealed by the rays of sunlight filtering through the trees. "Even your eyes have freckles," she murmured, fascinated, lifting a hand to brush the overlong fringe off his forehead, the tips of her fingers caressing his skin in the lightest of touches.

His fingers tightened on her jaw, gently pulling her closer while his other hand pressed into her lower back to keep her there, finally claiming her lips and stealing the breath from her lungs.

Tina shifted against him, rearranging herself, placing one knee at either side of his hips as she curled over him. He traced her bottom lip with his tongue and she parted her lips on instinct, sighing in welcome as he stroked her from within and his fingers tangled in the loose material of her blouse. She broke the contact with a gasp, glad to be on solid ground as he didn't skip a beat and latched on to the sensitive patch of skin on her neck, gently nipping and suckling in turn.

Her fingers sought purchase, fisting the collar of his shirt where he had opened the first few buttons at his throat. Newt leaned back to catch her gaze when she made to pop the remaining buttons from their eye and reached to press her hand against his chest, stilling her movement.

"Tina," he began, feeling a little tongue-tied, remembering his mother's shocked gasp the first time she'd seen the scars marring his skin. "There's — I'm not sure you'll want to take this off. I don't want to frighten you."

She scoffed, not unkindly, turning her wrist to gently squeeze his fingers. "There's very little you can do or show me that'll change my mind about you, Newt; I mean it. Let me see you. Please?"

He contemplated her for a moment, remaining silent as he lifted her fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving her face, and kissed her knuckles before sitting up. She took it as the permission it was and her hands made quick work of the buttons at his front as he pulled her closer in his lap, running his fingers up and down her sides.

His shirt fell open, revealing the expanse of bronzed, freckled skin of his chest and abdomen. Her eyes flitted upwards to meet his for a brief moment before undoing his cuffs and helping him shrug out of his shirt.

Newt averted his eyes, staring at her left ear and waiting for the recoil that never came. His body was littered with delicate silver lines and larger welts, obvious teeth and claw marks that had sliced through his flesh, and a healthy smattering of freckles dotted every inch of exposed skin.

Tina reached out a tentative hand, brushing one of the prominent scars on his chest, much too close to his heart for her liking, softly outlining it with her fingertips. He flinched but didn't make a sound.

"It's not much to look at, now you understand why I didn't —" he began but she cut him off with a quick kiss, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

She leaned down, replacing her fingers with her lips and pressing a kiss to the patch of uneven skin on his chest. "Beautiful," she breathed, delighting in his shocked intake of air before moving on to the next and repeating the gesture.

His hands found a home in her hair, fingers tangling in the silky soft strands as she placed gentle, open-mouthed kisses on his skin, mapping the various marks and clusters of freckles along his arms and torso while breathing adorations into his skin.

"You're beautiful, Newt," she said, finally rising to meet his eyes before pressing a palm to his heart. "Here especially."

The look on his face matched the perplex disbelief she remembered from that day on the docks, when she'd asked after Leta Lestrange. The day she'd given him permission to call on her again.

He surged forward, his sure movements a direct counterpart to the hesitant glances of moments ago as he framed her face with both hands, kissing her forehead and skimming across her cheeks, pressing his lips to each of her eyelids in turn before covering her mouth with his.