The Only Living Girl in New York
A/N: Readers, I have a confession. The first time I saw Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was this Saturday, thanks to a neighborhood Redbox. I'd put it off for as long as I could – I think because in my mind's eye I knew that I would become infatuated with the Newtina ship and now I guess I've boarded another ship that I will most likely drown in. Thank you and good night.
A shadow fell over Tina Goldstein's desk, followed by a loud crunching and indecent masticating. Tina knew that when she inevitably looked up there would be a colony of crumbs all over her piles of paperwork.
"Your friend's here," Gavin Newfoot said, grabbing another biscuit from his pocket.
Tina didn't look up from her briefing file. She had her quill in her hand and was making notes in the margins. They were having a 9am joint meeting with the Magical Creatures department over a series of Manticore smugglings they had been following. The Aurors hadn't been involved until recently when several killings had been associated with the crimes. "Sure."
"I mean it. I saw him walking in with Picquery. Had his case with him, too. You should have seen the way Picquery looked at that case – thought that thing would spontaneously erupt into flames!"
Tina's quill froze. The memory of an old, brown leather suitcase appeared in her mind, along with its freckled, blue-coated owner. She looked up at Gavin. "What did you say?" she said hoarsely.
"You know, that magizoologist fellow we almost killed and then helped us Obliviate the memories of all the No-Majs in New York," Newfoot said. He looked at her in confusion. "Didn't you know he was here? Thought you two were cozy. Certainly seemed like it." He shrugged, and another cascade of crumbs made it down to her files.
Tina blinked at Newfoot. "He's here? Here, as in – in New York?"
"As in literally in the building," Newfoot said. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you feeling okay, Goldstein?"
Tina dropped her quill. "I'm fine," she muttered. She grabbed her files, getting to her feet. "I should—"
A voice suddenly came on overhead. "Aurors and employees of the Magical Creatures department," the stern female voice announced, "please report to Conference Room 302 immediately."
There was the shuffle of files and the movement of bodies as everyone made their way past their desks towards the main hallway. Tina helplessly looked at the backs of her fellow Aurors, innocently chatting along as they walked. Even Gavin had disappeared from her desk and had joined the group, a trail of biscuit crumbs following him on the carpeted floor.
"Chadwick Boot, give me strength," Tina breathed to herself, briefly shutting her eyes. Then she grabbed her case file and copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and followed.
ooo
"Good morning everyone," Madame Picquery greeted, scanning the room. "As you are aware, in light of the Manticore smugglings and killings over the last month, we'd asked our Magical Creatures department if they could bring in an expert to consult with us on the case, due to the very dangerous nature of the creature. Unfortunately, Mr. Tollingsbooth, our American Manticore expert, was recently killed by one of the escaped Manticores during one of our unsuccessful attempts to capture it at the scene. Luckily, Mr. Scamander, renowned magizoologist – and now bestselling author – happened to be passing through our part of the world for a few book signings and agreed to come and brief us on the creature today."
There was light applause at this. Towards the back of the room, Tina's own hands were clenched quite tightly around her book and case file, unavailable for such an action.
"Please hold your questions until the end of Mr. Scamander's presentation, and listen carefully. Your life may depend on it," Picquery reminded them all grimly. She stepped to the side, gesturing to Newt. "The floor's all yours, Mr. Scamander."
"Right," Newt said, clearing his throat. He smiled shyly at everyone. "Thank you, Madame President. I'm honored to be able to tell you a little bit about the majestic and quite notoriously fatal Manticore." With a swish of his wand, a large diagram of the Manticore unrolled beside him, and Newt began his lecture.
Tina watched Newt through the gap between the ears of two men, lowering herself slightly in her seat. She had strategically placed herself in the far back, and behind some of the taller people in the room, to avoid catching his notice. From back there, inconspicuous in the crowd, she could allow herself to watch him. It amazed her how little he had changed. He still carried himself with a subtle, quiet sort of confidence that most easily be mistook for shyness. His hair was still in its regular, endearing state of slight disarray. And then there was everything else about him - his crooked, boyish smile, and the silent strength to him that she had discovered and had quickly grown to admire. No, Newt Scamander was not like any of the other men she had ever met. Perhaps this was why even Queenie had predicted her attachment to him would be inevitable.
Even now, after two years after he had left New York on that boat, Tina still felt that magnetic pull towards him. She raised her hand slightly to her face, her cheek tingling from memory.
Tina shook it off. Unconsciously, she began to rub the top part of her ring finger with the pad of her thumb on her left hand. Get a hold of yourself, Goldstein. That's all water under the bridge now.
She ignored the parts of her that vocally disagreed.
ooo
Tina was almost out of the door when she heard it. Or, rather – him.
"Tina."
She promptly froze from a combination of both surprise and dread. Steadying her expression, she slowly turned around.
"Newt," she said, forcing a smile. "Hello. It's nice to see you again."
"And you," he said, smiling awkwardly. "I was hoping I would see you." He paused, his eyes not straying from hers. "I've been eager to hear how you've been, since you'd stopped responding to my letters."
Tina felt a hollow thump in her chest. She had not been prepared for the directness – at least, not here, within the stark white walls of Conference Room 302. He didn't even seem angry with her, just curious. Sincere. It made Tina feel the budding resurgence of many of the emotions she had spent the better part of a year trying to rid herself of.
"I've been busy," she said, with forced enthusiasm. "I'm sure you have, too. I've seen all of the articles that were written about you."
Tina had read them all, of course. And kept copies in a box underneath her bed that she kept telling herself she would eventually throw away. Soon. Very soon. Tomorrow, in fact.
"Yes," he said, chuckling. "Nobody guessed my book would be such a success. Not my publisher, and certainly not me."
"It's a great book," she said. She hugged her case file closer to her chest so that he would not see her copy. "Listen, we're working on the Manticore case, so I should get back to work. It was good to see you. Really, Newt."
Tina turned and began to quickly walk away. She focused on the symmetrical floor tiles beneath her feet to calm her breathing and the painful tightness in her chest. Tina did not consider herself a particularly emotional person. She had always been known as the clear-eyed, level-headed sister. But there was something about Newt Scamander, affectionate caretaker and advocate for all magical creatures, that unwound her – much of it, she supposed, beyond his scope of observation. That was the part that grieved her the most.
It only took half a minute before she heard footsteps behind her, quickening to catch up.
"Tina– I'd really like to talk to you."
His blue coat appeared at the edge of her peripheral, walking beside her. When she'd first met – arrested, technically – Newt, she remembered thinking how odd his blue coat was, how stark and vivid against the monotonous gray and black of New York City. At the time, it had made him easy to spot and track. After his book had been released and quickly became a bestseller, wizards all over the city began to wear blue coats just like his. Interesting how something so trivial such as a choice of color in men's outerwear could make Tina cringe every time she walked outside.
"I'm afraid it isn't a good time, Newt. I'm working."
"Of course. It doesn't have to be now. How about after?" he asked. "I'll be in New York for a few days. I've got a lecture at the American Magizoological Society tonight in Manhattan. Perhaps — you and I, we could have dinner, and Queenie too, if you'd like —"
Tina stopped abruptly in her step. Newt, also quick in his reflexes, stopped right alongside her. Tina watched as several people from the Magical Creatures department passed them, shooting them inquisitive looks.
"I can't tonight," she said, a bit coldly.
Newt's eyebrows rose slightly on his face. "Oh."
Tina shifted her weight to her other leg. "Every year, MACUSA holds a charity ball. It's a big deal – there's awards and all that. That's tonight. It's sort of mandatory for every MACUSA employee to attend."
"I see," he said quietly.
"Some other time," Tina said, apologetically. "It was good to see you, Newt. I really do mean it."
Tina turned around walked on. This time, Newt didn't follow.
ooo
"Finally, Tina. I've been waiting for hours. I was starting to think that maybe something had happened – oh."
Closing their apartment door behind her, Tina couldn't bring herself to look at Queenie's face. So much so that she had walked around the city for hours after work, dreading her return home. But attempting avoidance was a futile practice when you lived with a Legilimens.
"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry," Queenie said softly, her face filled with empathy. She walked over and quickly embraced her, Tina getting a strong whiff of her powdery, fragrant perfume. Tina closed her eyes and allowed herself to be comforted by her sister. For a second, she genuinely wanted to cry.
"If you've changed your mind about going tonight, I completely understand," Queenie said, her voice muffled against her hair. "I'll stay home with you. I'll make us a nice dinner and we can—"
"No, no," Tina said, shaking her head, sniffling. "We're going. I know how you look forward to it every year. Plus, Picquery said it was good for the rest of us Aurors to socialize with the other departments. Encourages interdepartmental camaraderie."
"All right then, if you really mean it," Queenie smiled kindly, pulling back, her palms on her shoulders. "I'll help you get ready. You'll be the most beautiful girl there. No one will ever even have an inkling about what you had to go through today."
Tina would have settled for an Obliviate instead, but she nodded her head anyway.
ooo
Tina didn't have many fancy events to attend, nor had she ever felt very inclined to seek them out, so she was relieved to have Queenie take over. Queenie was good at details. Queenie had been the one to pick out her dress, and now she was charming Tina's hair into soft waves. Tina appreciated her sister's sincerity and enthusiasm, but she knew she would never ever be the most beautiful girl in the room – not while Queenie was there. Tina felt no bitterness over this. She preferred to catch as little attention as possible. After all, it was Tina's general inconspicuousness that lent to her skills as an Auror – the ability to blend in anywhere. No doubt, someone as beautiful as Queenie would have a difficult time going unnoticed in a crowd.
"Are you ever going to tell him?"
Tina raised her eyes to watch Queenie work on her hair in the mirror.
"You know," Queenie continued carefully, gingerly brushing out the waves in her hair, "about you going to his book signing last year in England."
Tina felt a pang of pain in her chest. It was still so very vivid to her. The rush of excitement she'd felt, thinking she would surprise him by showing up at his first ever book signing – and the crushing disappointment that had consumed her thereafter, seeing him leave with Leta Lestrange. It was the look on Newt's face when he had seen Leta there, while the rest of the room had faded away into the background… Tina had never really felt true heartbreak until that very moment, and it was not a feeling she cared to revisit ever again.
It was clear Newt still loved Leta. He could never love Tina, not like that.
"I don't see the point," Tina said, avoiding her sister's knowing gaze.
"Maybe it isn't what you think," Queenie suggested. "You're a great Auror, Teen, but even great Aurors make mistakes."
She shook her head. "It's all in the past now, Queenie. It doesn't matter. What matters now," Tina sighed, looking down at her hand, "is the future. I've made my decision."
Tina caught the flash of sadness on Queenie's face before it was swallowed up by her large, winsome smile. "You're right," her sister said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "The future it is."
ooo
The massive venue was already filled with people by the time Tina and Queenie arrived to the annual MACUSA charity ball. Queenie gasped at the large crystal chandeliers hanging down from the tall ceilings – Queenie had always had a thing for giant, ridiculous chandeliers. She said it instantly made a place more elegant.
There was a live jazz band playing onstage, and waiters in penguin suits walking around with trays stacked with flutes of never-ending alcohol. Everybody was dressed in their best clothes. It was the one day a year MACUSA employees could afford to look just a little bit extravagant and indecent. Tina certainly felt so. She had kept insisting to Queenie that her neckline was too low, but Queenie only saw this as a good thing and emphasized that it accentuated her long neck, whatever that meant.
She certainly had to give credit to Queenie for her transformation. They'd passed a mirror by the entrance and it had taken Tina a second look back to recognize herself. She certainly did not look the part of a girl who had unexpectedly run into the man who had broken her heart just a few hours ago.
"The sole objective for the Goldstein sisters tonight," Queenie told her, as she grabbed two glasses of champagne from a waiter and handed one over to her, "is to drink ourselves to a very entertaining evening."
Tina gave her a look. "Queenie—"
"Tina, you're my sister and I will love you to the ends of the earth, until we die," Queenie said, "but it grieves me that I haven't seen you laugh – I mean, really laugh - in a very long time. So toss this one back and then immediately grab another, okay?" Queenie touched a finger to Tina's chin, making her smile. "That's it. That's the spirit!"
Tina and Queenie mingled and drank, drank and mingled. Tina did not normally drink – not like this, anyway – but she would have been lying if she said Newt's sudden appearance today did not lend a helping hand to Queenie's argument to drinking a bit more excessively than usual. And it appeared to be working – she was laughing tonight, plenty, and Queenie was right – she had almost forgotten what that had felt like. To find something funny, and to just laugh at it until she couldn't anymore.
She and Queenie soon found themselves on the dance floor with two finely coiffed gentlemen. Queenie was a bit more gifted in coordination, but Tina was horrendous, which luckily, nobody seemed to notice.
After their second dance, Tina's partner disappeared to get them more drinks. Tina's face hurt from so much laughter that she had to cast a mild relaxation charm on her own facial muscles.
"May I have the next dance, Miss Goldstein?"
Tina looked up at the voice. Newt was suddenly in front of her, nearly unrecognizable in a black suit. The rest of him was the same, though. Her heart pointed this out to her quite vocally.
Behind him, Tina caught an apologetic look from Queenie.
"Newt," Tina said, shocked. "What are you doing here?"
"Madame Picquery invited me," he said. His eyes flickered over her, and Tina felt heat rush to her cheeks. "Said I was free to come after my lecture. I hope that's all right with you, to have a non-MACUSA member crash your charity ball."
In front of Newt, Tina felt the effects of one too many flutes of champagne. She was glad for what remaining self-awareness she had not to indulge her impulse – which was to immediately grab him and pull him close. She had missed Newt before, even when she'd been heartbroken. But it was an entirely different sensation to finally be in touching proximity to someone you had missed so intensely, so recently. Every nerve in her body crackled with electricity to be close to him, after being an entire ocean apart.
She wondered if he felt it, too. If he felt anything for her at all. He did seem flushed, and a little nervous, but was easy to be those things here, in a place full of elegant, drunk people.
"An invitation from Madame President Picquery won't go disputed tonight, I can guarantee you that," she said. Tina suddenly felt very self-conscious. How long had he been here? Had he been watching her dance? "I'm not a very good dancer," she blurted.
"That's a relief," he said, smiling crookedly. "Because neither am I."
Tina found herself laughing at their mutual discomfort when she felt a wave of dizziness suddenly come over her. She swayed, nearly losing her balance. Newt stepped in quickly and grabbed her by her waist to keep her from falling, pulling her in close.
"Are you all right?" he said, his breath hot against her ear. His closeness did not help with the dizziness at all. He helped her up, not letting go. "Perhaps we'd best get you some air."
ooo
Outside, Tina leaned up against the cool wall, closing her eyes to ease the spinning. Even with the sensory overstimulation, she could feel his eyes on her. He had not looked away from her since he'd approached her in the ballroom. Even drunk, she had noticed this. In fact, she was starting to realize that her intoxication only made her more attuned to Newt Scamander, charity ball-crashing, best-selling author, heartbreaking magizoologist. Tragic.
"Are you feeling all right?" he said again, concerned. "Maybe we'd better sit down."
"I'll be fine. Belligerent dancing and too much champagne," Tina said, opening her eyes. "Nothing more malicious than that, I'm afraid."
It was a cool spring night in New York, just chilly enough to wake up her senses - somewhat. The night sky was clear from any clouds, and the stars appeared to have shown up for the party as well – a vivid cluster of them, just waiting to be admired. She took a deep breath and then traced her gaze back to Newt, who looked away.
"Thank you," she said. "For taking me outside. And for catching me. It would have been pretty embarrassing if I'd fallen. Clumsiness is not a trait easily forgiven among Aurors."
"I'm sure no one would have remembered. I believe I may have been the only sober person in the room, and it's a rather large room."
Tina cracked a smile at this. "Ah, but the night is young, Mr. Scamander."
There was a pause of silence between them. Newt looked up and met her eyes again, and Tina was nearly taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. She was reminded of the last day she had seen him in New York, by the boat. Tina looked away. The careless mirth of the night was quickly fading into the somberness of longing and memory.
"How did your lecture go?"
"It was good," he replied. "Uneventful, as to be expected. Considerably less booze and dancing."
"It was nice of you to come and speak to our group. Losing Mr. Tollingsbooth was a tragedy. As you can tell, we've been having a difficult time with this case. We're very grateful for your help."
"I'm happy to help. Manticores are dangerous yet widely misunderstood creatures. I've told Madame President Picquery that should you capture any that have need of a home…"
Tina laughed. "Of course. It would be a relief to know they were going somewhere they would be treated properly, and with care. I take it none of your animals have escaped recently?"
"No, not since what happened here – I can say that with confidence." He quietly cleared his throat. "I find myself inclined to admit that part of the reason I agreed to come – aside from the Manticores' well being, of course – was the thought of seeing you. Surely… you must know that."
She stared at him. She had hoped that their conversation would revolve around work and creatures, subjects that didn't require arduous emotional dissection.
"I couldn't leave New York again without talking to you. When Madame Picquery extended an invitation for tonight, I leapt at the chance. And then, to be here, and to see you… looking so beautiful."
Tina's breath hitched painfully in her chest. "Please don't say that."
"Why not?" Newt asked, the emotion thickening in his voice. His words became rushed, urgent. "It's true. I've many regrets with you, Tina, and one of them is having waited this long to tell you. I'd planned to tell you when I came back to New York last February, but Queenie said you were away on Auror business." He sucked in a breath. "I had a feeling then that you were avoiding me. But I received my proof when you stopped answering my letters."
Tina's throat tightened. She stepped away from wall. "Newt. Please."
"Why did you stop answering my letters?" he asked, his tone slightly husky with desperation. "What did I do? Tell me, and I'll fix it."
"You can't fix it," Tina said. "It's too late."
"It can't be," he said. He stepped closer to her. His face was so near now – she could see every freckle, every fleck in his eyes. Every small detail of him that she loved and had to let go. "The hardest thing I've ever had to do was leave you. I've counted every second until I could come back to New York to see you and tell you that I am hopelessly—"
Tina couldn't bear to let him go on. "I saw you," she said, pulling away from him. "I went to see you at your first book signing, at Flourish and Blotts. I wanted to surprise you."
Newt was stunned. "You came to England to see me?"
"Yes. I was in that bookstore. And then – I saw her. Leta. She was there. And when I saw your face when you realized she had come, I…" Tina stopped, feeling her eyes burn. "I knew I couldn't compete. Somebody already had your heart. There was no room left in it for me."
"That isn't true. That's not true at all. Tina, I – yes, I was pleased to see her there. I hadn't seen her in many years. But what you saw was between old friends."
"Please don't insult my intelligence, Newt," Tina said, wiping her eyes, sniffling. "I may not be as romantically well-versed as my counterparts, but I know how to read people." She turned away. Tina, for the sake of her dignity, felt the urgent need to extract herself from this scenario, immediately. Tina Goldstein would not be that girl crying at the party. "I should go. Queenie will be looking for me," she said, composing herself. She forced a painful smile. "Goodbye, Mr. Scamander."
"Tina," he called out. "Leta is a part of my past. That part will never change. But it's you I want to spend my future with. You. Because," he said, "how could it possibly not be you? You're the person I haven't been able to stop thinking about ever since the first day I stepped into New York."
"It can't be me," she said firmly.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm engaged, Newt," Tina said. Newt blinked at her in shock. "I started seeing someone earlier this year. He proposed to me two months ago. His name is Charles, and he's also an Auror. He's been out of the state for a few weeks now to consult on a case in California."
Newt's eyes flickered down to her left hand, his heartbreak rippling across his face. "But you're—"
"I lost my ring chasing down a Manticore a few weeks ago," she said, softly. "I'm supposed to get a replacement soon." Tina pursed her lips, her eyes sad. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."
Newt said nothing for a while, at a loss for words. "I see."
"I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in New York," she said, lamely, before walking back inside.
Tina went back to the party, weaving through the crowd to find Queenie, who found her quickly and they immediately Apparated back home.
It was Queenie who rubbed her back in gentle circles for the rest of the night while she cried.
ooo
Tina woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and sore, tender eyes. Thankfully, Queenie had left a tonic for her by her bedside (with a helpful little note labeled Drink Me), which erased much of the hangover. It did not, however, ease the ache in her heart. The magical world, for all of its creativity and invention, had not yet come up with a tonic for that.
Tina made herself a cup of tea and studied up more on the Manticore case, rereading the chapter on Manticores in Newt's book, underlining important facts as she went. She made a plan to revisit some of the previous smuggling sites. They hadn't had any luck there before, but perhaps, knowing what they did now about Manticores, they could fish out a few more clues. Tina had been back on the investigative team for a while now, but she was still on her probationary period, and was somewhat eager for ways to prove herself.
During the afternoon, she went out to the city and spent a few hours following up on leads, none of which led her very far. She returned back to the apartment to find Queenie whipping up dinner in the kitchen.
"I really wish you'd stop doing that thing where you work on the weekends," Queenie frowned. "You ain't getting paid for that, you know."
"This Manticore case has been the biggest thing to happen since – well, you know." Tina sighed, sitting down. She spied the pastry box on the table. "If you're not careful, you'll spend all of your money at that bakery and we'll be leaving in a house made of bread instead."
Queenie rolled her eyes at her. "Ha, ha."
"I mean it, Queenie. Please be careful."
Queenie's expression changed. She was thoughtful, serious. "Can I say something to you?" she asked, softly. "And you won't get mad?"
"I could never be mad at you."
Queenie set down her wand, turning to face her. "I didn't tell you this last night because I knew you weren't in the right mind to hear it. But when Newt walked into that ballroom, there was not even a whisper of Leta left in his mind. All I could see in his mind was you."
"Queenie," Tina said, shaking her head.
"I know you like Charles. But you love Newt, Teen." Queenie paused, as if hesitant. "So why not be together? Why spend another minute apart, if you don't have to? If I could trade places with you – if I could be with Jacob…" she said, trailing off sadly. "I would jump at the chance and never look back."
Queenie gave her a sad, soulful look before turning back to the steaming pot. "Dinner should be ready soon."
ooo
Tina went to sleep that night, plagued by what Queenie had said. No, Tina did not envy the position Queenie was in. It saddened her that her sister visited the bakery under the guise of a stranger just to see Jacob. To put their situations side by side made Tina feel small, and trivial. Most of all - lacking in any meaningful perspective.
Queenie was right. She did not feel the same way about Charles the way she did about Newt. Perhaps it had been too fantastical a hope that Tina would one day grow to love Charles the way she loved Newt. But Charles was not Newt, and therein laid the problem.
Tina replayed that moment outside the ballroom. The way he'd looked at her that night. Tina wanted to live inside that look. Wrap herself in it, grow old in it. Go on adventures with it. Possibly even own a few kneazles with it.
How could it possibly not be you?
She was obsessed with that. The idea as if she was the most obvious thing to him. Like being with her was the only option, past even the faintest act deliberation. Was that what love was? A sweet, twisted version of emotional tunnel vision?
Tina sat up in bed, sighing and cursing to herself. She summoned a light and grabbed a piece of parchment and her quill.
Dear Charles, she started.
And thus, with a midnight owl, Tina ended it.
ooo
The next morning, Tina woke up at the crack of dawn to bring a fresh box of Jacob's pastries back to the apartment. She grabbed one pastry, still steaming, biting into it as she scribbled a note to Queenie, before rushing back out into the streets of New York.
She Apparated to the alley beside a drugstore, searching for a loose brick in the wall. Once she found it, she tapped her wand against it and whispered the password. The solid brick wall began to shimmer, and Tina walked on through to find herself in the back of Telltale Tomes, New York's only magical bookstore.
Tina was wide-eyed at the scene in front of her, crumbs scattering over her coat as she took the pastry out of her mouth. She'd known that Newt was famous – he was a bestselling author, after all – but the room was filled with many of his admirers, all clamoring to get his signature in their book. She could barely even see him from where he was at. As she got into her place in line, she could not help but notice that most of his fans were of the feminine variety and dressed quite impressively. She looked down at what she had thrown on – her gray coat (now covered in crumbs), a plain blouse and her trusty black boots – and dreamily entertained the thought of having come in the dress she'd worn to the charity ball.
Tina heard a chorus of giggles as Newt got to his feet and posed with a young woman towards the front of the shop for a picture. In front of Tina, a woman had drawn hearts all over his author head shot on the back of the book.
She swallowed hard, feeling a trickle of doubt. Of course it had only been a matter of time before Newt's eccentric charm was revealed to the wizarding world. Why on earth would he settle for Tina now?
Get a hold of yourself, Goldstein, she told herself. She was going to do this, failure or triumph be damned.
Ever so slowly, the line crept along. Tina watched as Newt answered questions and signed books with utmost politeness. With every inch Tina neared him, she felt the room grow smaller and hotter. Her thoughts grew louder, easily riled by anxiety. White-knuckled, she clutched his book to her chest, her heart pounding against the hard, embossed cover.
Tina happened to be behind a particularly large woman, so Newt did not see her until she had stepped forward and placed her book on the table.
"Hello, Mr. Scamander," she greeted, hoping he didn't catch the tremble in her voice.
Newt was stunned. "Hello. I-I didn't know you were coming."
Tina slid her open book in front of him. It took Newt a second to tear his eyes away from her to realize that she had been prompting him. To his surprise, there was something already written across the first page, in her handwriting.
I'm sorry for being an idiot. Will you take me back to England with you?
Newt's face broke into a glorious grin. He scribbled something underneath, sliding the book back to her.
"There you are, Miss Goldstein. Thank you for coming today."
Tina, her heart beating fast in her chest, picked up the book. In front of her, there was movement of a blue coat, of Newt getting to his feet. She was barely aware of Newt as he kindly announced to the room that he had signed all of the books he could sign today.
Tina looked down, holding her breath. There it was, just one word, the ink still glistening in the light.
Yes.
Fin.
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