Newt hadn't been as careful as he usually was when apparating, his only concern being that he got away from that place, the children, the nausea he began to feel in his stomach; luckily, or unluckily, he wasn't sure yet, he arrived within only some miles of the orphanage, but far away enough to feel his escape was successful. A grunt escaped from his throat as he fell back against the brick wall of a pub in downtown Pitlochry, cloaked in the shadows of the alleyway beside it, and he struggled to steady his breathing as he heard the drunken chatter of patrons standing outside only around the corner. The scent of burning tobacco and frying fish that flowed directly towards him filled his senses, and his stomach loudly grumbled in response; with one hand he lightly touched his abdomen, realizing he hadn't eaten since they arrived. And neither had Tina. He closed his eyes, desperately fighting the guilt that was clawing out from his chest.

It was very unlike him to act so impulsive, to have such little control over his own emotions—but that was an art he had practiced without being surrounded by… well, everything. He had severely overestimated his ability to return home; to see the ghosts that haunted the house of his childhood and hometown, or even face any slight reminder of what he had ran from. He felt stripped, he felt threatened; and although it was in no way Tina's fault, he couldn't bear the thought of her tearing his walls down even more, exposing him completely. He needed to feel unfamiliar again.

"Rough night?" A tall, lanky man had appeared beside Newt, dressed in a charcoal colored vest that covered his white shirt underneath and a pair of black trousers; his dark eyes looked ahead to the adjacent brick wall only within some feet in front of them as he took a long drag of the cigarette, which he held steadily to his lips beneath his moustache.

Newt paused for a moment, looking down at the ground, a bit startled by the unexpected company.

"Y-You could say that." He mumbled as he put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, the chill in the air growing stronger with the setting sun.

"The missus piss ye off?" The man glanced over to Newt, a slight smirk across his face as he pulled the cigarette from his lips.

"Quite the contrary." He responded shortly, and his face tightened as he held his gaze to the pavement. The man furrowed his brow at Newt curiously, studying him now.

"Fancy a fag?" He reached into his pockets and began to fumble around as he searched for one.

"No, that's quite alright, thank you."

"Fancy a pint?"

Newt looked up to the man who stood beside him, who raised an eyebrow back, taking a final drag of his cigarette before he flicked it to the ground in front of them. Well, that was one way he could try to forget.

"Sure. Thanks."

He nodded at Newt's response, and they both walked towards the door and inside. They found their seats at the bar, and the man gestured to the bartender for a refill and one for Newt. He cleared his throat, awkwardly looking down at the bar top for a moment, before he spoke.

"Might I ask… why the generosity?"

The man chuckled as the bartender returned with two pints, and he slid one over to Newt.

"To be honest, ye looked a little pathetic there in the alley, so I figured I'd help a lad out."

"Ah." Newt raised his brow, looking down at the mug that now stood before him.

"So, I figured ye could use a drink. Once you've had one or two, ye ought te go back to 'er, though. I learned that the hard way more than once."

Newt pursed his lips and picked up the mug before him, before taking an excessive gulp of the ale.

"Easy mate, it's not goin' anywhere." His newfound friend laughed. However, as much as he knew better, there was not a single fiber of his being that was interested in self-control.


Tina had begun her search down the desolate streets, looking in each direction for any sign of Newt; she had given up calling out his name, realizing he wasn't going to randomly appear like a lost puppy—though he might run away like one. She had only a faint idea of where she was or what direction she was heading in, and her surroundings became increasingly unfamiliar as the skies darkened. She bit her lip as she walked, fighting the tears that stung her eyes, brought on by a mixture of nervousness, frustration, and anger. She gazed into the windows of each home, bakery, pub, and any other building that came into view as she walked, her frustration only intensifying with each passing minute.

How could he be so unfathomably inconsiderate? How could he leave her in the middle of an unfamiliar town—unfamiliar country—no, unfamiliar continent like this? She huffed, stuffing her hands under her arms as a chill slowly creeped into the atmosphere. That's what you get for getting too comfortable. Her subconscious reminded her. Go home. Go back to MACUSA. Focus on your work.

She cursed under her breath as she stood at the corner of a stoplight, having finally reached the outskirts of the downtown area of Pitlochry. She unwittingly tapped her feet against the pavement, impatiently watching the bright red which glowed from the lamp above her as the sound of drunken laughter filled the air from a distance. As she walked across the intersection she gazed into the bright glowing windows of the pub on the corner; she could have certainly used a glass or two of something strong in that moment, but she didn't want to spend another minute alone in that town. She shamelessly stranger-watched as she passed, finding brief entertainment as she observed the shenanigans going on inside—until her eyes landed upon a head of tousled light brown hair, and the back of a cobalt blue jacket.

"Newt?" She wondered aloud as stepped up to the window, narrowing her eyes as she watched the man; he threw his head back in laughter as he chatted, and talked with his hands as he told a story. Please don't be Newt. The man finished his story, and the two both broke out in laughter again. She watched with anxiety as he turned slightly in his chair to grab a pint on the bar; and there was his face, his boyish freckles, and bright azure eyes she had spent the past days gazing in. A smirk was spread across his lips as he took a swig from the pint, and then turned back around to continue his conversation.

She bit her lip, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again; one finally broke past the barrier and slowly painted a damp line down her cheek, which stung from the cold wind. She promptly turned from the window and angrily walked away, barely able to believe what she had just seen; that's what he was too busy doing? That's what was more important? Getting drunk? Who was this man she sailed across the ocean with? Who was this man she had spent these days and nights with, wrote letters to for the past year, counting down the days until she saw him again?

"Everything alright?" Tina snapped her head to meet the curious eyes of an old woman, wrapped in several layers and a broom in her hand, standing in front of a closed shop. In her rage she hadn't even noticed she walked past her; she felt a tinge of guilt, seeing she was closing her shop up so late and alone.

"O-Oh, yes. I'm sorry." She quickly wiped at her cheek and underneath her eyes. "Do you need… help?"

The woman smiled and shook her head, looking down at the ground as she swept.

"But I think you might, dear. Come in, I have some tea on the stove."

"No, thank you—I appreciate it, I really do, but… I have to get home." Tina shuffled anxiously, not wanting to delay it any longer than she had to; she had already made up her mind that she needed to go back to her life, to what she knew. As much as she could use to have someone to talk to in this moment and let her feelings spill out over a warm cup of tea, she needed to start building her guard back up—and the only way that would happen is if she left as soon as possible. The woman frowned, gazing at her for moment, but quickly resigned with a nod.

"D-Do you happen to know where the nearest bus stop is? To get back to the train station?" Her voice broke with sadness as she spoke, and she clenched her jaw to fight it.

"Just a few streets down that way," The elderly woman pointed west. "then you turn left at the theatre, and it should only be another mile down."

With as much effort as she could manage, Tina politely smiled. "Thank you."

"Good luck, dear." She worriedly watched as Tina walked away, then hesitantly returned to sweeping the ground.


Newt gazed into the dark, now lifeless courtyard as he stood at the sidewalk; no children, no Puffskeins, and certainly no Tina was to be found. He wasn't sure how much time he had actually spent at the pub, but he realized it had been longer than he thought, judging by the complete silence surrounding him and the deep blue-black of the sky above, lit only by the vivid moon. He let out a regretful sigh and looked down at his feet, feeling like a complete fool. Did you really expect her to just be waiting here? He bit his lip, and not knowing what else there was to do, began walking down the sidewalk to find an inn for the night.

He would write her first thing in the morning. Mr. Lynch, too—perhaps she would stop there before she went back home. Not that he should expect anything in return, and he wouldn't blame her if she didn't bother; who would? Another sigh escaped his lips into the chill air as he looked to the ground as he walked, his mind replaying every single mistake he had made that evening; beginning with when he thought the best decision was to leave her alone in the middle of Pitlochry, and continuing with every minute he didn't immediately go back.

"She's at the train station." A fragile, feminine voice entered the air, breaking his thoughts; he turned towards the source, an old woman who sat on the steps of the front porch of a house, clutching a cup of tea.

"What?" Newt blinked, and stopped in his tracks as he looked over at her.

"H-How do you—"

"Ye just missed her. Well, I shouldn't say just, you've had a couple of hours to come back here." She raised a brow at him, before taking a sip from her cup.

"W-Was she searching for me?" Newt felt the guilt ache even deeper in his chest like a blade, and he stepped closer towards her.

"The train will be there in about twenty minutes." The woman chose to ignore his question.

"I wouldn't walk." She winked, and then shakily began to stand up from the steps. She grasped the railing of the stairs as she made her way slowly up them, and once she reached the porch, she looked back at Newt.

"I-I, erm…" He stuttered, unable to form a coherent response.

"Go on, then."

Newt cleared his throat, watching the old woman for another moment, and then apparated to the station.


Gentle, quiet rain fell from the skies, delicately tapping on the roof above her as she nervously, yet somewhat eagerly waited for the train back to England to arrive, as she stood alone at the edge of the platform. It felt as if her entire self was split in two, one half yearning for home and the security of the life she had established, and the other attached to the adventure she had barely started; only hours ago she had been dreaming of their—her, she now corrected—farmhouse in the Highlands, where she could live without the pressures of home, or the fear of disappointing herself, her sister, her parents. That dream felt so naïve and unreachable now, and the process of resigning herself to reality was already in motion.

Newt appeared only several feet behind her, and she jumped at his arrival; she started to turn towards him, but quickly turned back around once she realized who it was. He swallowed, his heartbeat quickening as he stared at her back. Her hair was damp and tangled from the rain, her jacket wet as well, and she stood with a defensive posture. He started to step towards her, his hand extending to touch her but he stopped midstride; she didn't so much as flinch.

"Thank you for everything, Newt," She spoke into the air, doing all she could to mask the trembling in her voice. "But it's time for me to go home."

His eyes softened and he pursed his lips, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say to her.

"T-Tina, please let me ex—"

"I don't need an explanation. I understand all that I need to." The words came out harsher than she intended, but she felt that was the only way she could stick to her resolve.

With a trembling hand he now walked forward and subtly touched the arm of her jacket, closing his eyes as he stood directly behind her, and it took everything within him not to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her. She tightly closed her eyes, desperately doing all that she could not to cave to his touch.

"Do… do you think you're the only one who hurts, Newt? Do you think you're the only one with a painful past?"

He breathed in deeply and lowered his head towards the ground. The roaring sound of the train nearing could be heard, its light shining from the distance; they both looked over, their eyes brightening as it approached.

"I-I wasn't thinking. I was just… I had to…"

"I have a past too, and I understand that it's hard. It's terrifying. But I can't play these games with you, I can't be afraid you'll abandon me every time it becomes too much, w-without even knowing why…"

She shrunk down a bit, wrapping her arms around herself as she stifled a cry; he immediately placed both hands on her arms, pulling her in and holding her back up to his chest. She looked up to the roof of the station, closing her eyes for a moment to keep the tears from flowing.

"You brought me here. If… If you aren't ready, that's okay. But I need to take care of myself, too."

She pulled away from his grasp and bent down to pick up her suitcase off the ground. Newt's eyes widened as she stepped towards the edge, and the train then slowed as it approached the station. He watched as it halted, and the doors abruptly opened in front of her; she turned to face him, a pained look in her eyes as they met his.

"Tina…" He said under his breath, but she turned back around to face the train. She hesitated briefly, gazing into the empty cabin. It's time to go home. Her subconscious reminded her, and she closed her eyes as she stepped up into the train.

The final warning horn blared into the air, startling Newt, but prompting him to finally take action. He rushed over to the open door, reached in and grabbed her hand; she quickly turned around, her eyes narrowed with confusion.

"Newt, what are you—"

"Please don't. Not yet." He pleaded, gazing up into her eyes from the platform. "I-I promise, I'll—"

"Ma'am, we have to close the doors." One of the crew members now stood behind her, an annoyed expression on his face as he watched the two of them.

"We can talk about this another time." Tina nervously glanced between the employee and Newt as she tried to tug her hand away.

"I can't." Newt replied stubbornly, tightening his hold. The train then slowly began to pull away, and the crew member reached for their hands.

"We have to close the doors, now!" He insisted sternly, attempting to pry Newt's hand off of hers.

"Tina, please!" Newt shouted over the sound of the train's engine, walking in pace as it moved; Tina stared at him as if he had completely lost his mind, speechless, as the train was picking up speed.

"I'm closing the doors!" The employee shouted, running over to the other side of the cabin.

"Please let go!" Tina was now the one pleading, snapping her head back at the crew member and then to Newt; he held his grip on her hand, almost jogging now to keep up with the train. She looked over past them, seeing the end of the platform nearing.

Damn it, Newt! She closed her eyes and leapt forward from the cabin, falling directly into his arms, and they both stumbled back several steps, landing only within a few feet of the edge of the station.

They both struggled to catch their breath as the train pulled away and went off into the distance, his arms still tightly wrapped around her; her heart was beating out of her chest, her eyes closed as she slowly realized she had in fact survived.

"What is wrong with you?!" Tina pulled away from his arms, her voice hoarse as she shouted, staring at him with infuriated disbelief. Newt stood there awkwardly, staring straight back at her, unsure how he could possibly attempt to justify his actions.

"You could have killed yourself! You could have killed us both! You could have—"

"I couldn't let you leave."

Her mouth hung open slightly as she silently stared at the man before her, the confliction she was feeling evident in her eyes; she crossed her arms at her chest and deeply sighed.

"I don't understand you." Her voice trembled as she looked down at the ground.

"You leave me all alone in the middle of a foreign city, to go drink—then you force me off of a train—"

"I did what?" Newt's brow furrowed, and he took a step toward her.

"I saw you, okay? I saw you at the bar. Newt, I just wish you would have told me—"

"You have it all wrong." There was a sternness in his voice she had never heard before, and her head snapped up to see him only within a couple of feet of her.

"I made a very poor decision tonight. More than one, actually. But it had nothing to do with wanting to get away from you. That's not what I want. I would never want that."

Her lips trembled as she struggled to speak, but she was unable to make a sound. His eyes softened as he looked at her, and he delicately reached out and cupped her cheek; she took a deep breath at his touch.

"That's not going to happen again. You don't have to believe me right now, but just please… stay." His voice was softer now, as well as his eyes; Tina quietly nodded, as a small, affectionate smile started to appear across her lips.

"Okay. I'll stay." She breathed, and reached up to his hand which held her face.

Without hesitation, Newt promptly leaned towards her and tenderly pressed his lips against hers, sliding his hand away from her cheek and pulling her into a tight embrace; she eagerly reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her lips invitingly parted and he delved inside her mouth; she felt all of the anger and confusion within her dissolve as their mouths rhythmically moved together, hungrily tasting what they both had been craving since the day he left New York.

Newt broke away and gasped for air, eyes closed and pressing his forehead against hers as he tried to compose himself; she smiled, feeling a warmth radiate from her chest as the feeling of his kiss still lingered on her lips. This was the man she had been writing letters to for the past year, the one she had anxiously imagined meeting again, sailed across the ocean with—the one she had started this incredible journey with.

The brilliant, awkward, frustrating, very confusing, but the only, Newt Scamander.


A/N: Hey everyone! So this one was a bit longer than previous chapters—there was so much I wanted to fit in! I love first kisses. :P Anyway, thank you for the feedback so far! I'm excited about this story, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it. Let me know what you think of this chapter! :)