Tina left the Kowalski household an hour later, making her way home as fast as she could with a pot of steaming stew from Queenie in her hands. The road was even darker than before and Tina almost tripped up a few times, but she managed to get back to her house without hurting herself or spilling a drop of soup.

The door was shut but not locked; she nudged it open with her shoulder and kicked it shut behind her. Almost yelling, Tina caught herself thinking she'd wake Lark with all the racket. Then she remembered the reason she'd even gone to Queenie and let herself raise her voice: "Newt?"

"Yeah, here!" he called back from their bedroom, poking his head out of the doorway.

She plopped the pot down on the kitchen counter and slumped on a chair, nodding towards it. "Stew. Queenie made more than enough for her and Jacob so she gave me some. I think she thinks we're going to sink into pits of despair now that… Lark's been classified. Not that we're going to. But you know Queenie."

Newt nodded, still only visible from the neck up, then seemed to be getting up off the floor. He stretched and joined Tina in the kitchen, lifting the pot lid to smell the stew and smiling at the familiar scents.

"Meat and carrots," He remarked, setting the lid down again. "Like always."

Tina reached out and set a finger on the pot's scalding surface, ignoring the heat.

"Newt." She said quietly. "I wanted to talk."

"About what?" he frowned, looking concerned.

"You know. Lark."

"Ah." He sat down across from her at the table, immediately fiddling with the oilcloth covering the wood. "Right. Of course."

"I just wanted to make sure that… we both know what we're going to do."

"We do, Tina. We're going to love her and raise her exactly as we were planning to."

She cracked a smile. "Well, naturally. But spells, Newt, and magic and Hogwarts rules and family and songs and dangerous areas and air raids-"

"-We'll protect her, we'll teach her. We'll do everything we can, I swear." Newt reached across the table and took Tina's hand. "Lark will be as amazing as she is and wants to be, I can guarantee it."

Sighing, Tina closed her eyes. "I hope so, Newt. I really hope so."

But nothing was as easy as they told themselves it would be.

Newt rarely left the house anymore, spending all the time he could teaching Lark how to understand the world without hearing a sound. She was a remarkable little girl and he was a gentle and patient teacher, but she was still deaf and a baby and everything took time. Tina dropped out of work as well and spent her time in St. Mungo's, talking to Healers and researching Lark's condition. She knew deafness was quite common and there wasn't anything to do about it, but it was still important to her to know about it and how it affected her daughter.

This research had some downsides, however; the main one being a huge loss of income for the household and a drastic drop in their economical state. When Tina noticed this she tried to get her job back, but the Auror office of the Ministry refused to accept such fickle conditions of work and she came home empty-handed. Now, with one parent unemployed and one parent struggling to find a proper field of work, the family suddenly had to make do with less food and less new clothes.

Another downside to Tina's extensive research was what she found out. At some point, she came across a page in one of her books that stated the fact that deafness could be caused by a deaf family member, not necessarily a mother or father; after questioning Queenie and her own memory, Tina recalled a distant deaf uncle. This news was disturbing and depressed her a great deal as she struggled with self-blame for a week or two.

It seemed that for the next few months, not a person in the house wasn't dismal or upset most of the time.

"What about your manuscript?" Tina suddenly asked one freezing February evening, as Newt tucked Lark up in blankets and tried to stoke a coal fire from a few chars of ashy wood.

Knitting his eyebrows, Newt glanced at her. "I published it, Tina, remember? Just before our wedding."

"No, not that one," Tina said and waved her hand in frustration. "I meant the one you were planning to publish the day Lark was born."

"Oh, that one. Hmmm. I told myself I'd get it published after Lark grew up a smidge, but…" he shrugged and went back to lighting the fire.

Tina sighed. "You deserve to get it published, Newt, after all you worked to write it."

"We don't really have the money to get a good publisher."

"Get the public one."

"I tried it a month or so ago, they're up to their ears in other written works." Newt said, then added in a lower tone: "And none of them were eager to work alongside me."

"What?" Tina demanded, scowling. "Why on earth wouldn't they want to work with you?"

"Our reputation has rather gone to the dumps, Tina, and I really don't mind the least but it does affect the publishing committee."

She bit her lip to keep from shouting with anger. Not at Newt; at the Ministry, for turning a blind eye to their struggles and then abandoning them for it. She wouldn't accept money, or course, she hadn't from Queenie either- but if they'd only let Newt get his damn book published the whole family would be in a much better situation.

"And we can't get a private publisher, like I said. Those are mighty expensive." Newt said, cutting off her train of thought. "But it doesn't matter much, that manuscript would never sell anyway and I'm better off finding a job that gets us somewhere."

He turned away from her and stabbed at the smoldering ashes in the fireplace, ending the discussion.

The situation went on like that until the end of March, the chill eventually lessening and making the Scamanders' struggle more of hunger than of cold. April was a long month of aching stomachs and hopelessness. And then, all of a sudden in the beginning of May, a letter addressed to Newt slid under the door and onto the floor. Tina noticed it a few minutes after it arrived and plucked it off the cold floor, Lark balanced on one hip as she flipped the envelope over and checked the return address.

"Newt, there's a letter here for you with no return address or sender!" she yelled into the house.

A mild crash, then Newt stumbled out of the bedroom to take the letter. He glanced at the envelope for a second, then carefully tore it open and pulled out the paper inside. Then Newt gave a little choke and began reading the letter with a look of confusion on his face, eyes widening by the moment.

"What does it say?" Tina questioned, curious. "What is it, Newt?"

He handed her the letter, still slightly speechless. Unfolding it, Tina read every word while mumbling under her breath:

Newt,

I understand from my coworkers at the Ministry that you and your wife Porpentina have hit a slight roadblock in your economic status these past few months. That is, of course, highly unfortunate and I've been waiting weeks now in hope that you'll manage to get up on your own two feet once again. But I see it's been several months since we last spoke and your family is still struggling, so I've come to a decision that something must be done.

Enclosed is a form I've written out to help Porpentina get her job back, and I'm entirely certain my influence and credentials with be suffice to land her the proper position. Hopefully you, as well, will heed my repetitive requests and find yourself some proper work; I'm sure the Ministry will gladly be of assistance to help you figure out your job demands.

If I am correct, Lark is nearing eight months old. I'm sure she is a very sweet and well-behaved child. I am planning to visit you in the near future- do you suppose she'll remember my face and voice?

And thus is sign off, but not before adding that you'll find a few supporting pound bills folded in the envelope; it is but a sum to tide you over until your job payment comes in.

Best wishes,

Theseus