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There are two small tablet stones, side by side.
"It was all we could afford." Her voice decrescendos. "It was all very sudden, and we didn't have relatives to pool for something fancy."
"Tina," Newt swallows, heart in his throat, terrified of not being good enough, in this moment.
"They don't bite," Tina smiles, a touch of sadness playing at the corners. Then, taking a breath: "They wouldn't, even if they were… you know."
Newt scuffles to the ground, arranging bouquets of bright blooms onto the patchy, wintry grass. Yellows, oranges, blues and pinks carpet the green. He mutters a few incantations, and the stems tendril their way into the loose soil. Newt's glad he's done well enough in herbology (Theseus in school days always mixed herbology up with Newt's actual favorite class) to give life to the flowers, watching curling leaves unfurl and petals become dewy.
"I don't want to overdo it," he murmurs anxiously, willing the spell to stop. "Or else the roots extend too far."
Tina kneels next to him, facing the gravestones. She reaches forward to touch cool stone, sweeping the non-existent dust with her finger. Then, Tina levels her stare to Newt's.
"It's okay, Newt. They're not buried here. Dragon Pox deaths were cremated, and the ashes contained."
His fingers find hers, over the stone.
"Cremation is good for nature. I imagine that's what I'd like to happen to my body. That way, I'd fertilize things more quickly."
Tina sighs in mock exasperation.
"Mom, Dad, this is the man I'm dating. I know. He's got a good heart, despite everything."
His answering grin is directed at the blue, cloudless sky. "Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein, thank you for your daughter. Actually, both. Both of them are spectacular girls, but Tina especially… she's half of my heart, which is probably why she thinks it's any good. A-anyhow, I hope you'll let me hobble along in life with your daughter. Especially you, Mr. Goldstein, sir. I am… very honored at the privilege of this—this opportunity."
Tina tries not to chortle, nor to make soft sounds at Newt's heartfelt exclamation.
A few moments pass.
Newt remains very still, one knee against the pavement, the other in grass. He doesn't speak, the little muscle in his jaw twitching as if he expects an answer, somehow.
"I don't think we can truly talk to the dead," whispers Tina. "Even if Grindelwald promised us the Resurrection Stone's power, that power's not something we should have."
"I don't know if we can communicate," Newt agrees. "But if we can, and I don't even try, what kind of unfeeling bloke would they think is consorting with their dear daughter?"
She shakes her head, not sure keeping a straight face is possible if more upper class British-isms escape Newt's mouth.
"Queenie and Jacob already paid their respects after announcing their engagement," Tina reminds him. "If you're going by history, my parents seem fairly accommodating about beaus. More so than I was at first, about those two."
Newt watches the wistful look on Tina's face. "Do you miss your parents?"
"Of course," she replies easily, and her vulnerability speaks to their time together. "Sometimes, I still dream of my mother tucking me in. It's been just me and Queenie for so long, I worry about forgetting things about them. But—" Her hand squeezes his briefly. "I'm hopeful. I want to take what I remember, and be like them in the future, rather than wallow in the past."
Newt's ears pink a little, not from cold. "H-how would you feel, if I took you to meet my parents next month? They're not replacements, but they'll treat you as family. As I do."
Tina lets his last admission rest, but raises an eyebrow. "Your brother's wedding?"
"Yes. If you'll come, as my date."
"Will I… do? It's a large, grand affair, isn't it?"
Newt smiles. "You've been snooping."
"I got an invitation of my own," Tina replies. "Via a Ministry owl. My office mates almost saw the letter attached when that dratted bird swooped in and did loop de loops. My grandfather buried over there would roll over."
"Theseus' owls are more like peacocks," Newt admits. "He's always found them most effective for conveying importance. As for your office finding out, would that have been so bad?"
"No, but they're all born nosy types. Investigators tend that way. They go on about our relationship, so they'd have bugged you about it." She looks at him meaningfully. "I wanted you to be the one to ask me to the wedding, or not go at all."
"Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein, your daughter is quite capable, you see," Newt sighs to the wind. "You shouldn't worry, regardless of how imperfect I am."
"The cheek," she chides, eyes crinkling. "Jacob would never shirk responsibility like that."
"I'm not shirking responsibility." He glides her hand up and kisses her knuckle softly, though his eyes dance like part of him wants to do other, less mild things. Alas, they are in front of her parents' graves. "I'm just asking for their permission," Newt informs her. "Hinting at the future, so to speak."
Tina nods, the drumming beat in her chest signaling she understood.
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