When Newt was 11 years old, he left for Hogwarts with his older brother Theseus and a longing for something more.
When Newt was 11 years old, he came across a first-year Slytherin sobbing broken-heartedly in the girl's lavatory. He asks if she's alright, and she screams for him to leave. He has a hard time walking away from creatures in obvious pain though, so he stays; and when she finally comes out, she tells him that her name is, "Leta. Leta Lestrange. And you should have gone away when I asked because it's really none of your business."
When Newt was 12 years old, he discovered that his new friend Leta has the same passion for magical creatures that he does. One Saturday, they get together to study in the library, intent on comparing Potions notes. Instead, they end up researching Jarveys and Erumpents until curfew, and part ways with a promise to meet again tomorrow.
When Newt was 12 years old, he realized that he does have a friend and that it is a nice feeling...even if his friend is sometimes cruel. Leta has, he feels, good reason; he's seen the shadows haunting her eyes when she returns from Christmas and Easter break; he knows first-hand the demands families place upon their offspring in the name of "purity."
When Newt was 13 years old, he realized that things were...changing. And not just with him. He's gotten taller; his voice has altered, his body smells and feels differently. Leta, too, has changed, and all for the better: there are curves where there were none before, and the way she smiles seems to make his fingers and toes tingle.
When Newt was 13 years old, he realized that he was, wholly and unequivocally, in love with his best friend. He isn't sure how he feels about this, but he is sure that she likely doesn't reciprocate. Leta only has eyes for Cephissus Avery, and their study session, more often than not, now consists of her researching spells and potions to catch his attention. The shadows behind her eyes, Newt notes, are deeper and darker than ever.
When Newt was 14 years old, Leta returned from summer break with deeply sunken eyes, a smile as hard and cold as a midwinter's moon, and an air of brittle determination. "I won't be bartered," she seethes at him when he asks what's bothering her. "I'm not cattle!"
When Newt was 14 years old, he took her outdoors on an especially warm day and wove spring flowers through her hair. "Do you love me?" Leta asks, and he tells her that he does. "That's good," she whispers. "No matter what happens between us in the future, please remember that."
He agrees to remember (in truth, he's convinced he could not ever forget) and she kisses him there by the lake, with the scent of mountain avens in his nose and her fingers on his jaw.
When Newt was 15 years old, Leta returns from summer break with an engagement ring on her finger. "Abraxas Malfoy," she tells him in a strange, hollow voice. Then she smiles, and he shivers at the emptiness behind her eyes, the lingering traces of bruises around her delicate mouth. "Father insisted."
When Newt was 15 years old, he watched fretfully as Leta's former passion for creatures devolved into something dark and dangerous. He does his best to stem the tide, but she lashes out at him more and more, between bursts of fitful sobbing. Desperate, he agrees to help her if she agrees not to hurt any more beasts. "Yes, all right," she tells him and then kisses his mouth hard enough to bruise. He refuses to kiss her back—that time.
(She confesses to him, one particularly dark evening after they've taken refuge in the kitchens, that she fears for her future. "I don't want him," she weeps into Newt's shoulder. "He's cruel, just like Father. Why, why can't I just have you instead?"
Newt has no answer for her, so he uses his scarf to dry her tears and summons every resource he has to strengthen his wobbly smile. For her sake.)
When Newt was 15-turning-16 years old, Leta Lestrange did more than kiss him in celebration of his birthday. "This, I can take from him," she murmurs against his mouth while opening his trousers. "This, I can give to you. Happy Birthday, my little Newt."
He can't find it in himself to resist. Afterward, he asks her if she'll suffer for not going to her wedding bed a virgin. "I don't particularly care," Leta says flatly. "Besides, how could he possibly know? You didn't." Newt inclines his head in acknowledgment before kissing her one final time.
When Newt was 16 years old, his entire world came crashing down. Leta did the unthinkable, and he, knowing the extremes of her desperation, does the unknowable: he steps in on her behalf and takes the fall. She hates him for it—her expulsion was to be her ticket out: out of an unwanted arranged marriage; out of a family who only tolerated her eccentricities because of what they could secure for them and their aspirations.
But Newt knows she cannot survive without the support of her soon-to-be-husband and family, and he knows that he can.
So Newt steps up, only to be cast away from Hogwarts as a failure.
The teachers fight on his behalf, but the Board of Governors remains firm, and Newt is expelled quietly and without fanfare. His only saving grace is that he's already taken his fifth-year exams and is allowed to keep his wand, thereby ensuring some limited future in the wizarding world.
(Leta isn't there when his final judgment is delivered. Her father swoops in like a Dementor to take her away from his "rotten influence!" and return her to the cold bosom of the Lestrange estate. She doesn't make any effort to resist, still too stunned by everything that's happened. But she does turn to look at him, just before they leave, and her eyes are cold when they meet his. Cold and indifferent.
You've killed me, those dark eyes say, and Newt blinks back tears. Your poison kindness has sealed my fate. I hope you're proud of yourself.
He isn't, and his parents welcome him distantly before informing him, in no uncertain terms, that he's to make something of himself despite all of this. "We are disappointed, Newt," they say. "We expected better of you. You've brought shame to your good name, and to us all.")
When Newt was 17 years old, Theseus secured him a position with the Ministry.
"You'll need to work," he tells Newt, "if you wish to claim your inheritance in the future. Buck up, ol' chap, it isn't all bad. You'll get to work with your creatures, at least."
The salary is two Sickles per week, truly a pittance; but he lives in a single room in Theseus' flat and he has enough money to eat and visit the pub each evening and so, he is (mostly) content.
When Newt was 18 years old, Theseus joined the effort to stem the burgeoning war in Europe. Newt sees him off despite their father's protestations.
When Newt was 19 years old, he joined the war efforts at his brother's behest. "You can redeem yourself here, Newt," Theseus writes. "You can even come work with dragons if that is what you wish." He does wish it, and he reaches out to the local recruitment office that same day.
He ships to the Eastern front two weeks later.
When Newt was 20 years, he received a package with his weekly front-lines post, no return address. It's small and unassuming, and he eyes it blearily before breaking the seal.
There's a wizard photograph tucked inside, of a familiar girl—now a woman—with mountain avens woven into her hair, smiling up at him suggestively.
Newt, she writes on the back of the photo in a familiar slanting hand. Remember the lake. Remember flowers and Jarveys and late-night study sessions. Remember when you kissed me outside of the Hogwarts kitchen, in the empty classroom, and behind our books in the library. Remember when you promised to love me.
Remember, and never forget. Please.
"I couldn't forget if I tried," he croaks to the photo and girl-turned-woman smirks and tosses her head in perpetuity. "Though, I've got a feeling you've forgotten me. Haven't you, Leta?"
The girl continues to smile and Newt, with the salt of his tears drying on his cheeks, hides her in his rucksack before leaving his tent in search of breakfast.
When Newt was 23 years old, he dug out the old photo of Leta and put it beside his armchair. He speaks to it each night before bed, a steady refrain covering the events of his day, his eventual aspirations, and the people he's met.
"I miss you," Newt admits aloud one evening, but she just smirks.
When Newt was 28 years old, the picture traveled with him around the globe, tucked neatly into his magically-expanded suitcase. He doesn't speak to her, not anymore, but Leta's visage is a connection to humanity—something he desperately needs as he ventures deeper and deeper into the wilds of the magical world.
He touches her picture some evenings, remembering (forgetting) the feel of her skin beneath his hands.
Other nights, he can barely tolerate her face as the old, familiar sense of regret comes flooding back.
When Newt was 29 years old, half a world and a full lifetime away from Leta Lestrange and Hogwarts, he tells a woman he suspects he is coming to love: "I don't know what Leta likes these days because people change. I've changed. I think. Maybe a little."
The woman, Tina Goldstein, smiles at him radiantly. He hears and feels the thump of his heart when it first drops, then soars—and for the first time since his expulsion, the specter of Leta no longer haunts him.
When Newt was 30 years old, an unexpected package arrived in India where he was releasing his Nundu.
Dear Mr. Scamander, Queenie writes, and he smiles down at the page. I think you should have this photograph, just to remember us by! Please don't forget about your American friends in that big ol' world inside your head. We miss you something fierce, Teenie especially, and can't wait to see you again. Hot dogs when you get back, yeah? Our treat.
There's a photograph of three people enclosed, each of them smiling and waving up at him happily, but he only has eyes for one.
Tina is wearing a long skirt and a slow, shy smile, and she glances up at him before looking away quickly. He reaches out to touch her hair and her smile turns into a full-fledged grin, exposing her dimple. Newt mirrors her smile and murmurs her name before turning to his side-table, where the photo of Leta still sits.
Leta-the-photograph glances up at him, then at the silver frame as he sets it beside her. The smile slowly leaves her face when she glances at the three people, the radiant brunette especially, and back up at him. She blinks quickly before seeming to understand. Then, lips set in an unwavering line, dark eyes suddenly shiny, Leta nods at him once, sharply, before exiting her frame.
Newt watches her go without regret, the ghostly scent of mountain avens monetarily tickling his nose. He recognizes her gesture as a final farewell, and his hand trembles minutely when he lays her photo face down.
"Goodbye, Leta," he whispers, and sudden, unexpected tears fill his eyes.
Besides him, Queenie, Jacob, and Tina are watching soberly. "I'm all right," he reassures them and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. The three of them eventually smile again, waving up at him tentatively, and he manages a watery laugh before stroking the silver frame.
"I'll be back soon," he promises the woman who's watching him with an awkward species of hope, and she beams and hops happily at his words.
Newt can't help but smile back before returning to his notes with a newfound sense of lightness, his heart at last at peace.
Author's note: You can find me on Tumblr (username: katiehavok) if that's your thing. I would recommend seeking me out there—it's the best place to find me if you wish to keep track of my works, and I always accept prompts and requests for Newt/Tina and Newt/Queenie. Thanks, as always, to Kemara for beta-reading and general encouragements.