So this one is cheating a little bit since the quote is from the first Fantastic Beasts, but I've had this headcanon for a while and I just had to find an excuse to write it. Enjoy!
Quote: "I'm more of a chaser really"
Tina had only gone to the room she and her new husband (!) were sharing at his parents' manor to fetch a case file from her bag. After dinner, Mr Scamander Senior had started asking about her work and she'd just so happened to bring this file with her in case she had a few minutes to work on it. So far she hadn't, but now was a great opportunity to have an excuse to read it. And it was better than going into a long story about the whole thing. She smiled to herself, Maybe Newt's right. Maybe I am a workaholic.
The thing was, she couldn't for the life of her find the bloody room. The house was like an ostentatious, elaborate maze – far from what Tina was used to. The doors all looked the same. It was getting frustrating, she didn't want to leave Newt on his own with his parents for too long. Come on, Tina. You're an Auror, for Merlin's sake. So she decided, on instinct, to just open the nearest door and look to see if it was their (!) room.
As it turned out, the room she walked into was not theirs, but for some reason, even in the dim evening light, it seemed familiar to her. She flicked on the light switch and suddenly realised why.
The room she'd walked into was unmistakably Newt's childhood bedroom. She knew because it had an old Hufflepuff scarf draped across the wall above the bed (Newt had explained the Hogwarts houses to her, in particular the pride he had in his own house). She also knew because the bedside was stained with rings from mugs of tea, there was an old oak desk in the corner next to the window, still covered in half-finished sketches of what she assumed to be his mother's hippogriffs. Similar sketches were everywhere – stuck to the walls, in piles on his bedside and the chest of drawers next to the wardrobe, even stuck to the wardrobe itself. She chuckled to herself. It was all just so Newt. She could almost see him – fifteen or sixteen years old, hunched over the desk working on a drawing with gingery-auburn hair in a mess of curls on his head.
Unable to stop herself, and her curiosity getting the better of her, she opened up the wardrobe. Inside she found several sets of Hogwarts robes, in the Hufflepuff colours of course. On the shelf above the hanger rack, a yellow and black tie was neatly folded, clearly by Newt's mother. Again, she allowed herself to imagine a young Newt, lanky and freckly, robes too short for him. She grinned. His mother had shown her photos of a young Newt (much to his embarrassment) and he was just adorable.
She ran her hand along the six sets of robes and suddenly the texture of the fabric changed. Curious, she pulled the garment out of the wardrobe and regarded it. It was a Quidditch jersey. A Hufflepuff Quidditch jersey, emblazoned with the house crest in the top right. It did seem rather big, which was odd seeing as Newt had clearly outgrown his robes every single year. She checked again, but found no other jerseys. Thinking about it, it'd probably still fit him now. Turning it around she found Newt's (and now her) surname and the number 24 printed on the back in a dark grey. She traced her fingers over the letters, still getting used to the fact that this was her name too. She wasn't sure she'd ever get over the little thrill she got from Newt (or anyone really, but especially him, with his sexy English accent) calling her 'Mrs Scamander'.
Pulling herself out of that particular reverie, she went back to trying to imagine Newt playing Quidditch. She wondered what position he'd played in. She didn't claim to be an expert on Quidditch, but she did know it was quite a violent game, which also required a lot of concentration. Somehow she couldn't imagine Newt being the sort to play it. Clearly he did though, and she made a mental note to ask him about it.
But she couldn't get over seeing the name on the back – the name that she now shared with him. Without quite knowing why, she pulled the jersey closer to her face and took in it's scent. It smelt slightly of dust, but also of…Newt. His scent of parchment and herbs still lingered on the thick woollen fabric, and she smiled. Then, suddenly remembering why she'd come upstairs in the first place, she stood up abruptly, not quite sure what to do with the jersey. She couldn't just leave it, could she? A spell would take care of the dust, and it seemed the perfect size for her, actually. A little on the bigger side, but comfy. No, she was taking it. She closed the wardrobe and walked out, switching off the light and shutting the door behind her, hoping to Morrigan that Newt wouldn't come looking for her now. Now she actually had to find the room she had come up to find.
Eventually, after using a navigation spell (why didn't she think of that in the first place?) she found their room, quickly shoved the (now neatly folded) jersey into her bag, and took out the case file. She'd shut her bag and was just about to get up and leave when she heard a familiar, male, English voice, "Tina?"
She smiled. "In here."
She turned to see her beloved husband stood on the threshold. "You've been gone a long time, love, I was getting worried." he said gently, walking towards her.
She stood from where she'd been crouched on the floor and, quickly placing the case file on the chest of drawers, wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, his arms automatically circling her waist. She pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before speaking. "Sorry, honey. I got a bit lost trying to find the room." No way was she telling him about the jersey or the fact she found his childhood bedroom. Yet.
"You must've been very lost, you've been gone nearly an hour."
Shit, had she really been that long? "Really? I didn't realise. I'm so sorry."
He smiled. That beautiful smile that lit up his whole face. The smile that Tina had come to believe only she was capable of causing. "No harm done. Except that I had to sit and listen to my father talk about politics, and thus pretend to understand what the hell he's on about, for forty-five minutes."
Tina chuckled, "Ouch."
"Indeed. Even mum gave up in the end."
"Oh wow, I regret leaving now." Tina laughed.
Newt chuckled now. "Tina, don't worry about it. Honestly, you say I apologise too much."
Tina shoved his shoulder playfully. "I obviously spend too much time with you."
"Makes sense considering we're married."
She laughed, she'd come to love his very witty, sometimes sarcastic sense of humour. "Yeah. And I wouldn't have it any other way."
His smile was tender. "Me neither. I love you, Mrs Scamander." He moved to claim her lips again, and she didn't stop him. Upon breaking away she leaned her forehead to his and murmured against his lips, "I love you too, Mr Scamander." After a moment of silence, of them just basking in the moment, she added, "We should probably get back to your parents."
Newt agreed, if reluctantly. "Yes, I suppose we should get back down there. Before mum gets the wrong idea and embarrasses both of us."
"Newt, from what I've learned about your mother, she probably will anyway."
"That's true. Oh well, at least she'll embarrass both of us at the same time."
Tina laughed, and almost forgot about the case file as they left the room.
Several days later and Tina still hadn't told Newt about the jersey or asked about his Quidditch-playing days. She had a feeling, knowing how Newt was treated at school, that it was a sensitive subject. But she couldn't hide it from him forever, he would find out eventually. And yet she couldn't find a way to bring it up without it sounding strange. Unless… Yes, that would work nicely.
It was early on a Saturday afternoon, and Tina, having accepted her status as a workaholic, was sat, cross-legged and with her third black coffee of the day, at her desk in the study that the couple shared. Newt had been down in the basement with the creatures nearly all day and as much as she loved helping him, she really needed to finish this report. She was wearing an old pair of slacks and the jersey – a quick spell had taken care of the dust, and now it simply smelt of Newt. It was the perfect size for her. Well, the sleeves were a little long, but it was so warm and cosy – ideal for fighting off the February chill.
Her plan was to simply wait for Newt to walk in and discover her wearing it, because she didn't know how else to start a conversation about it. For some weird reason she was really nervous – she didn't know how he was going to react to her going through his old things without telling him, and she was starting to regret not mentioning it to him first. Too late now though. With that thought she forced herself to focus on her work. What will be will be.
As it turned out, she needn't have worried.
Having finally finished in the basement for now, Newt made his way back up to the main house for a spot of lunch and a cup of tea. He poked his head into the study to ask Tina if she wanted anything, and stopped short at the sight of her. Cross-legged on the chair, leaning over her work, wearing old slacks and…was that…his old Quidditch jersey? She must have heard his sharp intake of breath at the sight of his name on her back (Merlin, it suits her so well) because she turned to look at him. She smiled, "Can I help you?"
He blinked at her for a few moments before speaking, "How…how did you get it?"
She looked down at the jersey sheepishly for a moment. Why did she look nervous? "Oh, this?" she stood up and crossed the room to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up at him as he reciprocated her embrace. "Remember at your parents' house when I got lost trying to find the room? I may have stumbled across your childhood bedroom. I know I shouldn't snoop…but my curiosity got the better of me. I'm-"
He sensed that she was about to apologise so he stopped her. "Don't you dare apologise, Tina Scamander."
She blinked at him, "You're not mad?"
Now he was confused. "Why on Earth would I be mad?"
"Because…I went through your stuff. From your past, from Hogwarts."
"So? It's you, Tina. I don't mind. Although I haven't been in that room for years, I expect it's very dusty."
"Not the room itself. I think your mother cleans it from time to time."
He chuckled, "That doesn't surprise me."
"Though your desk is still covered in half-finished sketches." she said with a fond smile.
"Really? Merlin, they must have been there for at least fifteen years." Then he added, "What did you make of it? My room, I mean?"
"It was very…you. I could just see you at your desk sketching away."
"I did spend rather a lot of time doing just that." He grinned fondly. "Unless I was helping mother with the 'griffs."
She was still smiling. Merlin, she was so beautiful. "Now why am I not surprised?" she pressed a light kiss to his lips. "I couldn't just leave the jersey. It still smells like you, and its very comfy." She looked almost sheepish again.
"It looks wonderful on you, dear. Better than it did on me anyway." He chuckled again.
"You never told me you played Quidditch." she asked curiously.
"You never asked." he smiled, "But yes, I did. In my fifth year. Not by my own choice, mind. On Theseus' insistence." He dropped his voice slightly in an imitation of his older brother, "You need to do something other than sneaking creatures out of the Forbidden Forest, Newton."
Tina laughed, his impression wasn't actually that bad. "Did he get you on the team?"
"Yes. He was Head Boy, remember? He could get anything he wanted."
"Of course he was." Tina rolled her eyes, "What position did you play?"
"I was a chaser. And I actually wasn't half bad at it."
Suddenly Tina remembered something and smiled, "Is that why you told Mary Lou Barebone that you were 'more of a chaser really' back in New York, the day we first met?"
He smiled. "You've a sharp mind, my dear. Yes, that's exactly why I said it."
"Very clever."
"I thought so." He grinned.
"So, did you find yourself enjoying playing Quidditch, something that wasn't related to magical creatures?" she grinned.
"I wouldn't go that far." He laughed.
She laughed too, and he couldn't resist it any longer. He gently pulled her face towards his, and captured her lips in a deep kiss that he hoped conveyed the pure love and admiration he felt at that moment. Her hands slid up to the back of his neck and tangled in his hair. He pressed his other hand into the small of her back, closing any space between them, and allowed his other hand to gently settle in her dark hair.
Upon reluctantly breaking for air, she leaned her forehead against his. After a few moments she asked, if a little breathlessly, "What was that for?"
"Are you complaining, Mrs Scamander?" he teased.
She shoved him lightly, smiling and still not detaching her forehead from his, "Not at all, Mr Scamander. I'm just asking."
"Because, Tina, I can't get over having seen my name on your back. Being reminded that you're my wife."
She smiled. That beautiful smile that had made him fall in love with her in the first place. "I love being reminded too. Which is partly why I took the jersey." When he simply chuckled but made no move to reply, she admitted, "We've been married nearly a year, and I still get giddy when anyone calls me Mrs Scamander. Or when a letter comes addressed to 'Mr and Mrs N Scamander.' Or when I sign something with my new signature. I used to be so level-headed - what on Earth have you done to me, Newt?" she laughed.
He smiled, there were tears in his eyes now. Dammit, Newton, crying AGAIN. "Love does funny things to us, Tina. Every reminder I get, I just think, 'I truly have married the most incredible woman in existence.' And…considering I never thought I'd be married at all, it is a truly, indescribably wonderful feeling."
She gently wiped away the tears that had escaped his eyes with her thumb. Her eyes were glistening. "I never thought I'd be married either. But we found each other. And I will love you until the day I die." Her last sentence was choked with her own tears, that had now released themselves.
"And I you, my love." His own voice was choked too, and he pressed another kiss to her lips, holding her tightly and as close to him as he could. As if he would never let her go.
She pulled away from the kiss and laughed. "Look at us, we are such a mess. Why did you come in here again?"
Newt had almost forgotten himself. "Oh…to ask you if you wanted any lunch."
As if on cue, her stomach grumbled. She laughed, "Does that answer your question?"
He couldn't help but laugh as he prised himself away and took her hand instead. "Come on. I'll make us something."
Reviews are appreciated, and if you enjoyed and wanna know when the next one's uploaded, hit the follow button, and the fave button if you're feeling nice. Feel free to follow/fave me as an author too if you like..
Peace!