A year and a half passed in a blink of an eye. Luna shifted from a she to a they. They shared their life with a set of biracial fraternal twins: Lorcan was white and a chatterbox; his brother, Lysander, liked reading and laughing.
Newt Scamander never bothered with explaining inside jokes. They really stayed in the inner circles of all inner circles; Rolf nibbled on a sugar cookies and enjoyed a laugh. Charlie got it. It hit him right in the funny bone apparently and shot stale coffee through his nose.
Newt clapped the burly man with burnt arms on the back. Following procedure he'd learned from the dragon reservation in Romania, Charlie shot his arms straight up. He counted in his head, but he counted off on his fingers, which meant he visited the burn way too often. The quirks never left the man.
Charlie counted the long way because he rather enjoyed taking the scenic route and chatted up the gypsies. The would never marry. He got around. The sides of Newt's mouth twitched.
"You make a pretty matron, Scamander," said Charlie, not flinching as Rolf peeled back layers of dead, decayed skin.
Rolf nodded, examining his work. The beer did nothing to hydrate the dragon wrangler. Charlie reminded Rolf of his twenty-first birthday, a low key affair where Charlie had covered up his mistake by scraping of the charred bits. In America, the age of majority came three years before a man or woman could legally partake in the good stuff.
"He makes an even better cook." Charlie stole the cookie, grinning when Rolf complained. "An excellent baker, which means you're one hell of a housewife. Lucky Luna."
"I have a wife." Rolf cleaned up his space, careful with the sterile environment. Charlie kicked his legs like a little boy and like picked up Lysander although it obviously pained him. "Lysander, easy."
"He's fine," said Charlie, seeing the boys as his. Lysander whistled through the gap in his teeth. Lysander smiled at his father, alight with happiness without a care in the world.
"One for you. One for your brother," said Newt.
Newt handed the toddler two cookies, laying down the rules and creeping around like a crab, pretending to chase him off. Lysander shared a language with his brother, "twin language", a phenomenon that delighted the closeted research. Lorcan sat in the corner with building blocks and traded with Lysander.
"You're retired." Rolf reminded him of this a lot, but Newt considered this a loose definition and found questions and beauties in his environment.
"Oxygen still goes to the brain," said Newt, tapping his temple. Charlie crumbled a cookie in his fingers, a sweet sacrificed to shock Rolf's memory about an hourglass. "How are your sessions with Seamus?"
"Not really original. He blindfolded me and insisted I forget everything. And he spun me around in circles." Rolf demonstrated, spinning around in circles, faster and faster, numbed by a dizziness. Nauseated, he stopped, and the little boys, confused, gawked at him like they saw a Runespoor. A rush, pure exhilaration, filled him. "What do you know? He's onto something."
Rolf tasted his sticky, sugar covered fingers after he touched a simple syrup. Newt smiled, an observer peeking in from the outside, and a brighter light filled his eyes, Rolf hummed a Romanian nursery rhythm, dancing with his boys.
Luna entered from the sitting room, a copy of Emeka Mwangi's Ivory Coast, in her hand. She'd turned it upside down. "You think he meant to do this?"
Rolf laughed, really laughed, and he barely heard her. Luna forgot the book, a manuscript in a borrowed jacket. Rolf strode lover, closing the distance between them and kissing her. Luna ran her fingers through his hair.
"Mwangi does as he damn well pleases," said Rolf, cocking his head interestedly.
Luna flashed the mistake and set the book on the cabinet. Emeka Mwangi, a magizoologist from Nairobi, lived and loved life. A friend a mentor, he inspired Rolf to never settle. He lifted Luna in his arms, carrying her into the sitting room, dumping her onto the couch like a sack of potatoes.
"We should drop everything and travel to Nairobi." Rolf leaned in and kissed her.
"We can't. You … we live here." Luna stopped Rolf's wandering hands. "Your grandfather. The children."
"We made the children acting like this," Rolf pointed out, shushing Luna when she delivered a cheeky response. He opened her blouse. "More.'
"More what?"
"Love and wine." Rolf unhooked her black bra with a quick hand. She laughed when Rolf flipped Emeka's book over and pretending the jacket got printed upside down, too. Written in English, this book might rival even his grandfather's. He caresses her face. tears leaking from his eyes. "Do you love me?"
"Always." Luna tasted the salt of his tears, pecking him with
small kisses. Charlie sauntered in, comfortable in his own skin. Rolf raised an eyebrow, and Charlie headed upstairs, shielding his eyes as he rattled about like a Bludger. Luna ""buttoned her clothes clumsily. "Charles,"
"Mrs. Scamander, ma'am." Charlie adopted a posh demeanor so far outside of his laid back personality.
"Nairobi. November. You want to see your best friend idolize a man he believes walks on water?" Luna played with Rolf's greying hair. Rolf neither confirmed nor denied this, and for her part, Luna ignored Charlie's comments about wine and water.
"Research isn't a holiday." Charlie said yes before hurrying upstairs.
"Emeka Mwangi." Rolf snapped his fingers, confused as to l. why she'd dropped this chance in the bucket. "We haven't travelled since the boys. You're bored out of your mind."
Luna didn't even bother hiding it. "Yes. The most interesting thing I have seen is this one-eyed slinging past in the neighbor's yard and I wanted it to be a Kneazle. You caught me. Remember when we used to eat and travel and argue?"
"We did other things." A knowing smile touched Rolf's lips as she narrowed her eyes. Luna got up, leaning in seductively and slipping into sultriness. "That's dirty. Yes."
"Mr. Scamander. You are inappropriate." Luna paled and flushed with color when Rolf slipped into a foreign tongue. Finally able to breathe, Rolf said in all seriousness he could breathe again and keep his head above water. "I know. You flash this crinkly-eyed smile. I've missed you."
"Me, too."