(a/n): hello lovelies. Thank for you favoriting/reviewing all of you that did as well as to all of you that are just reading this and giving it a chance. Any reviews are appreciated. I love hearing from fellow shippers! This drabble is quite short, but I hope to make them longer later.
Any Eddie Redmayne fan knows he knows how to sing .So things get a bit meta here with the entitled "Birdsong" which is also the title of a period piece Eddie was in that served a bit of my inspiration for this part. It's set during WWI and as the new series alludes to WWI and will be taking place around the time of WWII while magic folk fight their own war, I thought it was extremely fitting.
Also, I chose Dorset because, as most of you know, it is where Newt and Tina eventually settle once they're married. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, all belongs to JK. Poem/lyrics are from Thomas Moore's "The Last Rose of Summer" that is also a song.
2. Birdsong
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?
The first time Tina ever heard Newt sing was in his garden. They were at his family cottage in Dorset after fleeing the debacle in Strasbourg. Confronting informants of their betrayal was a stressing time and Newt thought it was a good idea to lay low until instructed further. It was one of those places that appeared quaint, yet upon further inspection, you knew it must belong to people who spent money to keep it looking so. She suspected he had more money than he let on. He was not the lavish type, so the idea was not confirmed until much later when she knew him better.
An owl came earlier saying that their next meeting would take place somewhere in London, in one of the rooms at somewhere called, "The Leaky Cauldron."
"Sounds a bit sketchy."
"I think they're going for inconspicuous," Newt guessed.
He let her know that it wasn't as dodgy as a place as it sounded, while also adding, "actually, it's pretty dodgy but in a comfortable way. Like dodgy but you know go there so often you stand alert accordingly."
"Okay, okay. I am an Auror after all. And I'm from Brooklyn. I think I can deal."
She hoped those experiences would help her with dealing with the war, too, but turns out nothing really can. She was only a teenager during the last war. And no, barely thrust into full adulthood, she was in another one. So she was grateful that Newt had a place that was so close to the water. Growing up in the city, the only view of the coast she got was from the docks on the East Side. When they first arrived in Dorset, she was amazed with the place immediately. The little cottage stood on a hill near the ocean. Everything was so green and quiet, save for the gulls overhead when the sun was out. She found the climate agreeable and the clear air a nice change from the cities and their smog she was used to. It was no wonder Newt often retreated to a place like this. It suited him. Maybe it suited her, too.
She had just finished making tea and was about to call him inside when, as per usual, she would find him outside (if he wasn't in his room writing or reading or in his sanctuary tending to the creatures). Walking out the back patio and into the garden, she was about to call out when she heard the sweetest din.
To her surprise, it was Newt-singing as he tended to the aconite bed in his backyard. She remembers the way the breeze blew through the countryside that morning, how the sun was halfway to rising, and the buzzing billywigs and the humming birds flew around him as if he were another of their fellow creatures and not an intruding human. Her attention to detail, which she usually reserved for finding clues and solving crimes, she now used to forever retain the memory.
It wasn't until he turned to face her did she realize she might have been intruding on something private.
"I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
He looked at her blankly for a second, and damn him, she used to hate when he did that. But then he flashed her one of those rare bashful smiles he reserved for rare occasions.
"It's okay, I'm not embarrassed," he said as a matter-of-fact. "Unless, of course, you're preference of tone somehow differs from mine, in which case I apologize if I completely butchered that song."
"No!" she said a bit too loudly. "No, actually, I thought it was beautiful. I didn't know you had such a lovely voice."
"That's very kind of you to say."
He was doing one those things where he avoided eye contact, which he rarely ever did with her now. But the more she came to know him, the more she realized there were two kinds of this behavior he exhibited. In one way, he wouldn't look someone in the eye if he was feeling a bit stressed and didn't know how to articulate this feeling without sounding rude. In another, he did it when he was a little self-conscious, but not unhappy. She deducted that it was the latter and approached him closer.
"I just wanted to tell you that tea's ready. Please don't look so alarmed, I promise it's better than the last time I made tea. I'm much better at coffee but Jacob showed me how to make it the way you like it, so I thought I'd...try," she trailed off a bit at the end, distracted at his loose tie and the way his collar looked askew, the first two buttons of his shirt undone. If Queenie were here, she'd be having a field day with what was going on in Tina's mind.
She was less than a foot in front of him now. Even with the slight chill in the air outside, she felt warm.
"I'll bring it out to you," she resolved. She started to walk away when he very suddenly but very gently took hold of her hand.
"Let's go inside. It'll be nice to have tea and breakfast for one day. I think we deserve that after what we just went through."
"War's hard work," she told him.
"You and I are aren't at war," he said. "I think some normalcy will do us some good."
That feels like so long ago. She's heard him sing so much since then, no matter how bleak events looked for them and the world. It was what she liked about him. Perhaps when first meeting him, he doesn't come off as exactly optimistic. You could even venture to say he had a rather cynical outlook on humanity. And yet he was the kind of person who brought sunlight with them even in the darkest corners. She's told him as much before.
Now, on this cold night in Warsaw, she thinks of that morning. She remembers the endless massacres and lost friends and missing names and destroyed buildings. She remembers these things but she also remembers how sweet the tea was at breakfast that day, how Newt cut her some toast and some jam and how they just talked, like normal people. How she helped him garden around the yard later and how she found it therapeutic.
How she longed for that now. For Queenie to be fluttering about, for Jacob in the kitchen making the best desert, for Newt's arm around her at night as she lay under blankets and moonlight trickling in from the window.
Everything was taking a toll on her. She thought she might breakdown in the middle of it and give up. But she never does-she's always surprised herself with how much determination she has. Most of the time she's barreling through situations without even realizing how far she's come. Her mother used to say she had a restless spirit-a notion she used to scoff as it was such a contradictory aspect of her personality that often clashed with her need for order. But if Newt taught her anything, it's that a bit of chaos is part of nature. There's always some use for any gift you have.
She hears a blast in the distance. Her fellow wizards fight as she hides behind a wall for someone to cover her as she tries to get into the building. Grindelwald is close, she can feel it.
For a second, she has to breathe in and find her resolve. She touches the engagement ring on her finger that Newt gave her months ago. There's a life to go back to after this, she has to believe it. She does believe it.
If they take me, I need to know you're with me. Sometimes, I need to remember to fight. I'm sorry I'm so easily lost. I'm sorry you always have to catch me.
When she thinks of home, she thinks of greenery, of the ocean, of the song he loves to sing.
"Goldstein! Now!"
She waits no longer. She grips her wand tight, turns away from the wall, and runs.
