NOTE:
Readers,

I am so sorry about my absence. My life fell apart a few months ago. Almost every bad thing you could think of has happened to me; broken laptop, broken engagement, broke heart, broken ankle and I had to find a new place to live. However, I am back.

I never planned on abandoning this story. I have been running plot lines through my mind for the last several months, so there is an ending. I signed up for Camp Nanowrimo to dedicate more time to finishing this story. Much like Tina, I am so very sorry about how long this took to reach you, my wonderful wonderful readers

Sunday March 6th, 1927

My Dearest Newt,

I am so very sorry about my delay in writing back to you. Please know that just because I haven't been able to write, does not mean I haven't been thinking about you. In fact, I think of you every day, so I am sorry that this letter is coming so late. I have been so tired for the last few weeks and I have been taking my time to heal, stretch and get back to being myself.

Tomorrow is the big day that I finally go back to work after the attack. I wanted to write to you about everything that happened this last month while it is still fresh in my mind. I want to give you the full story, because I think you were probably hurt with everything that happened and I owe you an explanation for that.

However, before I get too far ahead of myself, I wanted to put your mind at ease and let you know the Pickett is a wonderful house guest. I figured you have been worried about him since you left. He is so fond of you, and I know, despite your protests, you are fond of him. It must have been difficult for you to leave him behind, he has made it clear that it was his decision to stay with us. He is a headstrong little fellow.

Actually, Pickett is how I knew your visit to me wasn't a dream. I woke about a day and a half after you had left and there was Pickett. He was sitting in a small potted plant that Queenie had bought him, on the bedside table. Queenie must have gone after you left to find a new home for him, he seems to love it. He now sleeps between us every night, and feeds on any insects that get into the apartment. He is the first awake in the morning and is a very adamant alarm clock. Bowtruckles do not need eight hours of sleep, do they?

Newt, I just want to thank you for your kindness to me and my sister. I won't ever forget all you did and have done for me. Queenie told me all about your visit, well as much as she could anyways, since she told me it was the first night she was able to sleep for more than an hour or two in a row.

I feel guilty that both you and Queenie had to take so much time out of your lives to take care of me. I have always wanted to be the strong and reliable one. I have wanted to be the bulwark in my sister's life. Yet here she has been nursing me like an invalid for a month. She had to put her search for Jacob on hold because of me. I swear, from now on I will help her as much as I can.

Of course, I didn't want to burden you either. I don't want to become a hassle in your life. I wanted to be a person you could count on to make your life better, instead I made your life harder. I can't even imagine what an international portkey has cost you. You cannot pretend that I don't know they cost a pretty Dragot (or whatever you call money in England). There is nothing quite like a month in bed, to realize how simultaneously strong and delicate relationships with others are.

However, before I get too distracted, I want to tell you, personally, why I never wrote you back about Valentine's day. First, yes, I would be honored to be your Valentine, truly. I hope you will still accept me as your very late Valentine. No one has ever asked me before and I adore the little stuffed niffler you sent me. That is something that I never thought I would say when we first met, but yes, I adore the niffler. I have named him Newt Junior, since he was a gift from you. I know that probably seems silly and sentimental. Queenie and I didn't have a lot of toys growing up, after our parents passed away. So, toys were a luxury for us, and whatever we had, we had to share.

So Newt Junior, or NJ for short, has been a real sweet reminder that here is room for toys in my life. He has been my constant companion since I was attacked, in the moments of awareness between my feverish nightmares, my little NJ was there, reminding me that, somewhere out there, you existed in the world. Knowing that made being awake, a little less scary.

Your gift is really where the story starts, because I wanted to get you something amazing too. I thought about it for days before I figured out just what to get you, which I have included in with this letter. Once again, I am so sorry it is so late.

It was Monday, February 7th, just about the end of the day. Billy and I had been out walking near the docks. I had been meeting with a sources about the runespoor egg case. After the meeting I figured we'd stroll the docks for a while and just watch things. It amazing the things you can see if you are just watching for slightly unusual occurrences. It's how I found you, after all.

My plan was, after the docks, I was going to swing by the shop I had ordered your gift at, pick it up, wrap it and get it in the mail with plenty of time to surprise you. However, we never made it to the shop.

I really do blame myself for everything that happened, because I should have been paying more attention. Before you try to say it isn't my fault, which Queenie has said too, the fact is, I work a dangerous job. My mind was everywhere else but the case Billy and I were working. I was thinking about you and NJ, I was thinking about Queenie and how the hunt for Jacob was going. I always kept my eyes peeled for Jacob while walking. I was thinking about your gift and the summer when you'd come back to New York. I didn't realize that the path behind Billy and I was slowly being blocked.

We entered a road near the docks that has a lot of open air vendors, people selling potatoes, fish, stolen goods, and of course, the occasional magical item. The reason I always walked this road when I am in the areas is because there is a hidden apothecary. Witches and Wizards know about it, but it's hidden from No-Maj eyes. The shop from says that it is a place to get your brooms re-bristled, but any witch or wizard worth their salt knows what is really in that store.

As we were heading down the road, thinking about the future and looking into store front displays, we were ambushed from the front.

It was frankly shocking that in the middle of a muggle street someone would start shooting spells. I reacted as quickly as I could, but I might have been too slow. I tried casting as many shield charms as I could, but the No-Majs were starting to panic. The screaming started and spells were flying everywhere. They were rushing down the street behind us or into shops to clear the line of fire. In retrospect, these spells were shot widely with no real direction, and I think the whole purpose was to incite mass hysteria and keep me busy with shield charms. It worked.

I was blocking the spells as best as I could but I was worried about what happened to the spells and curses that missed me or bounced off the shield charms. Spells were flying past me left and right. The end of the road behind had been blocked with a fire-truck, and the firefights could not seem to get the engine started again. So all those people who were rushing to get away were trapped behind Billy and I, with the spells were flying towards them.

In retrospect, this was a very well planned out ambush. I thought they had bad aim and that it was bad luck that the road was blocked. However, what they were attempting to do was funnel No-Majs into the line of fire, and then intentionally aiming at them to distract me.

I pushed Billy aside and told him to try to get the No-Majs out of here. I could see at least three attackers, and I did my best to immobilize them. However, while I was shooting an immobulus charm, I didn't have time to shield myself and I was hit with a killing curse. The killing curse hadn't been one of the spells the attackers were using, so I wasn't expecting it.

It was a surreal moment that I will never forget it for the rest of my life. I was engulfed in light, and it was strangely silent. I knew that that moment, was the last moment in my life. I thought of Queenie and how I hoped she found Jacob so she wouldn't be alone. I thought of you, and how I would never hear from you again. I imagined you in London, sitting in your suitcase room, reading Queenie's letter to you about my death. It was all so vivid in those moments that for a second, I thought I was a ghost seeing the future that I would miss. It was peaceful. Then the impact hit me.

Amazingly, the pin you gave me deflected most of the spell. The sheer force of the two spell connecting knocked me off my feet and threw me back a few yards and knocked the wind out of me. The majority of the killing curse bounced back into a wall and rained debris down on two of the attackers.

I might have been in shock. My ears where ringing, and I was so very sore from the bit of the spell that did hit me. It felt like all my energy had been sucked away. However, the fact that I survived seemed unreal. I got to my feet as quickly as I could and looked back to check on Billy and the No-Majs. Everyone appeared safe still. I reached for my MACUSA badge, which in emergencies, can be activated like a tracking beacon but with my head turned, I was attacked again.

It wasn't a spell this time. It was stupid of me to look away from my attackers, but I thought I had enough time.

I didn't.

While I was reaching for my badge, two of the attackers rushed me. I tried to cast a spell but one of them had grabbed my wand arm, and while he had my outstretched arm clenched in their right hand, he used his free left hand to stab me in the right side.

Being stabbed feels nothing like being hit by a curse. During Auror training, the unforgivable curses were cast on us, so we understood the extent of what the spell felt like on others. It trains us to be weary of the use of excess force. Spells can linger. Spells can have side effects. However, it is typically quick, you can typically heal yourself. If you can't heal yourself, someone around you can.

A knife feels nothing like a spell. If anything, I think it might be worse. It's not instantaneous like a spell, it's continuous. The pain starts and doesn't fade. If anything, it starts to hurt more with time and it is unbearable.

I felt a few ribs break as the knife was shoved into my rib cage. I could hear them and feel them through my body. The cracks and pops of bone and torn muscle still echo in my ears. It was cold. So shockingly cold. It took my breath away. Suddenly something metal, enters your warm body, it chills you. It is like a wave of pain and ice. Or maybe falling into very cold water. It drains you and leaves you struggling for breath.

I looked down at the knife in my side. I could see my blood pouring into my coat. My blue coat becoming red. Suddenly there was lots of popping sounds and when I looked up again, the attackers were gone. I was alone.

At some point I found myself kneeling on the ground, I couldn't hear much. It must have been the shock. There was a knife hilt sticking out of my side and my wand was still clenched tightly in my hand. It felt like I was living in a world where everything was slowed down. My brain was trying to catch up to what happened. I reached for my MACUSA badge and tried to active the beacon in it, but my hand was shaking too much. I couldn't flip it open, my fingers wouldn't work.

Suddenly, or at least it seemed sudden, there was an old Polish man at my side. He was trying to talk to me but I couldn't understand him, I couldn't understand anything. He was looking into my eyes and I could see his lips moving. I handed him my badge and I will never forget the shock on his face. He squeezed it and activated the beacon for me. In the back of my mind, I realized that me must have been a wizard. I tried to think of spells to cast to cure or heal myself. All I thought was how stupid I was.

Behind me, Billy blew up an outdoor stall to create an escape for the No-Majs still trapped in the street. In the back of my mind I thought about containment. I thought about how all those No-Majs were going to go out and tell everyone about a lightening fight they saw. I thought about how I was going to get in trouble again. I was going to lose my job all over again. It was a new sickening wave of cold.

Billy arrived next to me. I saw him reach towards my side, to pull out the knife, but the old man wouldn't let him. Billy tried again, and the old man pushed him away. They verbally fought as the man pressed cloth against the wound. He had very kind eyes, but there was fear in them. I didn't hear or understand. All I could hear was the blood in my ears. Then I blacked out.

Sleep wasn't restful. It wasn't even really sleep. I was in and out of being awareness. I was in the hospital. I could hear doctors but not understand them. Aurors came and went. Lots of people talking. I knew something was wrong. It wasn't just a normal knife wound, because if it was, I should have been better already. Wounds, bones, muscle, they can all be healed in a second. Even after getting hit with part of a killing curse, I should be getting better. In the back of my mind, I knew my soul had been wounded.

Then Queenie was there. I could feel her in my head. It was a comfort, for once, to know she was there, in my mind. My mind was all over the place and I thought maybe, she could see it. Maybe if she saw, she would know what was happening. Eventually the hospital said there was nothing more they could do for me except keep my under observation. I stayed under observation for a few days and then Queenie and Billy took me home.

Coming home was good. My bed, the smells, the sounds out my window, even Mrs. Esposito were all welcome reminders of everything I knew. All the things that were mine. However, I wasn't getting better. I was healed physically but I wasn't okay mentally. Being awake was terrible and sleep wasn't any better. During my sleep I saw my parents die over and over again. I watched them get frail and die. I watched Jacob leave, I saw myself betray you to MACUSA over and over again. I had nightmares about you, Queenie, Jacob and about the future.

I tried to write to you.
I knew you were waiting.

When I was awake I thought about how mad you would be at me. I thought about how I was going to lose my job, how Queenie and I would be homeless again, like we were as children. Billy came to visit. When I was awake, he talked about work, which made me anxious that I might never go back.

Being awake, wasn't like actually being awake. It was more like being aware, but also being in a fog. I couldn't stay conscious for more than 30 minutes at time.

Secretly, I kept hoping to get a letter from you but I knew that because I hadn't written back you weren't going to write again. Queenie would reread all your old letters to me because they were the only thing that gave me a break from my fears. However, Billy made me feel insecure. He would ask why you hadn't written, or visited. The attack was international news, how could you not know?

Then you came.

I had a dream about…well it is hard to actually explain what the dream was about. However the strangeness makes sense because it was, after all, a dream. My stuffed niffler NJ was wearing your scarf, riding on roller skates while carrying a giant ruby in the shape of a heart. He skated past a group of kneazles knitting coats and hats for all the new occamys. There were mooncalfs dancing in a large circle to the newest jazz song. Then NJ ran up to the top of the MACUSA building and couldn't open the window. But then Pickett showed up, and he picked the lock and opened the window.

At that moment, I think, my soul was starting to heal. That was the first real dream I had had in weeks.

I had another dream that you were there with me. It was only later that I learned this wasn't a dream.

However in the moment, it felt like such a lovely dream. Your voice, your hand. I think I might have even touched your hair (which I am very sorry about invading your personal space). At the time, I thought it was so lovely and unreal. It made no sense for you to be there, so I thought it was a dream.

Then, about a day and a half later, I woke up. I really woke up, there was no fog. I was fully aware for the first time. Pickett was there, Queenie was with me. She told me everything. She told me of your visit, your generosity, she told me about the dementor's breath and the hot chocolate. She showed me the letter you wrote to me. Relief swept over me and I cried myself to sleep. I finally slept well.

The following morning I sent an owl to the head of the investigations teams that I had finally woken up. She wrote me back saying that she would visit me the following day at home, if that was allowed.

Mrs. Hendricks showed up promptly at noon. Queenie was home and let her in. I was still in bed, however sitting up and starting to eat solid foods, with many side helpings of chocolate.

I like Mrs. Hendricks. She has replaced Mr. Graves as the head of the investigations unit. She isn't large or imposing, if anything she might be like a human kneazle, smart, cunning and constantly reading different situations. She is fair and thin, and appears to be very much a lady. Wear gloves and a handsome coat and hat. Some were surprised when she took over the department since no one knew if she could cut it as a leader. However, she is proven that she is worth her weight in occamy egg shells. She isn't loud or aggressive, but she is heard and followed because of her sheer force of will and knowledge. Another reason I like her, she is also wary of our President.

She told me about how things at headquarters have been since my attack and that a special team had been assigned to investigate my attack. I told her everything I knew, I told her about the dementor's breath. I told her about the Polish man who had helped me and about the ambush. She took notes very carefully as I talked. It was exhausting.

She informed me that Billy had been reassigned to Auror Johnston since my attack. I guess he is upset that he isn't allowed to work on the attack case but instead has been working on a "boring" case. Johnston has spent the last 10 years tracking down very dangerous magical texts. Things that accidentally end up in private No-Maj collections, or things that are donated to local public libraries. Books that can cause blindness in the reader, and insanity in others. If anything, Johnston does some of the most dangerous and valuable work in the department but all Billy has done is complain. Johnston is a very dry humored man, I bet he is getting some satisfaction out of bothering Billy.

Mrs. Hendricks then informed me that when I do come back to work, I will be assigned to a special investigation myself. At first I asked if she wanted me to come back at all. She took a sip of her coffee and looked at me straight. "You are the person who brought the kneazles into MACUSA, aren't you?" I nodded.

"You are also the person who continued to follow a case, despite being told not to, because your instinct told you otherwise. You housed a criminal and protected a No-Maj to further your case. You also helped to stop Grindelwald and held him at bay on your own. You snuck into the City Hall subway station, while it was under Auror protection. Frankly, I wouldn't feel comfortable if you didn't work for me, at least this way we both know everything that is going on. Hiding away our most valuable player in the basement and not placing putting them in the game, is not how you win. "

She said to me, "No, I am going to do one better, I am hide you in plain sight when you are ready to come back to work." She smiled while telling me all this. It almost felt like I was watching the gears behind her eyes turn. "I am going to hide you in plain sight while you investigate Billy Bricks."

Mrs. Hendricks then told me how she has had a bad feeling about Billy for a while. She was also opposed to having him assigned to me, but it was Madam Picquery's decision. Mrs. Hendricks wants me to come back and be assigned a temporary desk job in the unit. She said it would be something that sounds time-consuming and dull, like address checking where all active magical city outposts are, or mailing out reminder flyers about broom flight locations, which would keep Billy far enough from me that I can look into his background.

I doubted what she saying about Billy until she told me how the kneazles seem to hate him. They stalk him and watch him closely while he is in the Headquarters, however he never sees them. She also said that Red, the elevator goblin, saw him intentionally make you wait when you arrived with your international portkey. Despite Billy having strict orders to meet you at 6pm, Red said he saw him purposely leave the atrium right before six. He got into Red's elevator and made him take him to the top floor and back for no reason, other than to be late.

She warned me that he would be allowed to visit me again soon. I guess she forbid him from visiting me after he was late are bringing you to our Brownstone. She told him that I had taken a turn for the worst and that I needed rest. However, she would have to let him start visiting in a few days after her visit. She asked me to get as much information out of him, willingly, as possible. She also wanted me to play up being ill, and to not mention anything about the dementor's breath. The fact that we know what the blade was covered with should be kept a secret. The investigation team still has the dagger and they plan to run a few more test on it now that they know about the dementor's breath.

After she left, I made my first trip into the living room since my attack and I sat in front of the fire with my knitting. Feeling very alive and very very tired. I slept on the couch that night.

Just like Mrs. Hendricks said, two days later Billy showed up after work. Bring flowers and well-wishes from co-workers. He was very interested in your visit, Newt. He wanted to know what we talked about, what we ate, where you slept. Which, for the record, was an extremely inappropriate question to ask!

He was strangely pleased when I told him that I slept through your whole visit. He asked if I had any letters from you since your visit and I answered honestly, no I had not. Then he said something very strange to me, "Well, not all men like to see woman they fancy, being all weak. For some men, it makes them forget about the lady completely." I did not answer.

Instead, I asked him about work. What was he working on? Who had he been working with? Had his family been worried when they heard about the attack? How had his home office in Detroit reacted to the news?

I got very little information out of him. He just wanted to talk about the attack. He wanted to know what I remembered. He wanted me to recount everything for him. I told him I didn't remember anything after the spell hitting me. He asked me if I remembered the Polish man, and I told him I didn't. He wanted to know what he looked like, but I told him I don't remember there being a Polish man there at all.

The truth is, you are the only one, other than my sister, who will ever know the whole story from me.

Newt, I hope you don't mind that I am shouldering you with this burden, but this will be the only written account of my attack. The things I have told you…they are too personal to share with strangers or anyone else frankly. The nightmares specifically. You are the only one I can trust with this knowledge. Much like how you trusted me enough to give me your book during our fight with Grindelwald.

I never thought that I would have someone that I could share these things with, that wasn't my sister. I never thought someone would come to me while I was sick and weak. I had given up hope that things like this would ever be possible for me.

I feel so terrible about not writing to you right away when you asked me to be your Valentine. I should have written that very same day, but I wanted to send you something wonderful. I am so sorry for the confusion and hurt I probably caused you. The thought of you sitting and waiting to hear from me for weeks only to learn I had been injured…it breaks my heart to think of. In the letter you left, you wrote "It was pure punishment, waiting to hear from you" and I am so very sorry.

Also, the fact that you managed to get an international portkey, I am not sure how much it cost you, but please allow me to pay you back. It is my fault you had to come all this way.

I am sorry about all the problems I have caused you. Between traveling and helping endure the burden of what happened to me. I am not sure that words in a simple letter like mine can ever express the gratitude I have for you. You friendship has been a gift, once in which I cannot simply put a price on. I hope that in time, I will be able to repay you tenfold for every act of kindness and affection you have shown me.

Speaking of gifts, several days after you left, I got a care package from your friend Professor Dumbledore. There was some lovely yarn (which in his note he said was wool and unicorn hair) and a whole box of chocolate frogs. We don't have chocolate frogs here in the US, so they were a real delight. I think they bothered Pickett, the first one I opened jumped onto his tree, and he wasn't pleased about that at all. I have also started knitting a new hat with the yarn. (It is a beautiful iridescent white, and I cannot begin to think what it might have cost.). However, that wasn't the only care package I got. I also got a package from your Prime Minister's wife. Frankly I was shocked. She send me some chocolate cauldrons and a lovely note thanking me for my hard work in the line of service, and she wished me a speedy recovery. I don't think anyone in Madam Picquery's family sends gifts to international aurors who are injured in ambushes. If this is standard English practice, I approve. I have pinned her note up on the wall next to my bed. She seems like a lovely lady. I also got a box from your mother! She sent me a clipping of your recent promotional interview for your book release and chocolate chip Hippogriff shaped cookies. She sent a very lovely letter mentioning how she looks forward to meeting me.

Then just last week, I got a box from the Countess. I assume you must have told her what happened? I bet that is a story in itself.

Either way, Newt thank you so much for everything. I know this was a letter you were waiting a long time for. I hope you will forgive me the tardiness, especially with its length. I should be going to bed soon, since tomorrow, I go back to work.

And before you say anything, of course, I will be careful.

Ever so appreciatively yours,

Tina Goldstein,

P.S. Do not forget to open the second envelope.

Newt bumbled with opening the other envelope, there was a weight in the bottom of it and his hand shook fiercely and he tried to fight the glued down fold. He had not struggled with opening something so much since he was a boy at Christmas time. He finely just tore the end of the infernal envelope off and a beautiful dark blue pen rolled into his palm. It must have been made out of some type of stone, since it was very cool to the touch. On the shaft of the pen his saw his initials N.S.

He turned to the small piece of paper in the now decimated envelope.

Newt,

This is a self-indexing, ever-inked fountain pen. You will never have to carry ink or quill around with you again. Which, I think will be very useful in the field. It writes like a quill and best of all, it will automatically produce an index at the end of whatever book you are writing in. Just in case you ever decide to write a second book, or you need to make annotations in your new book. I had it custom made with a stone barrel and cap because the shop only offered it in gold and silver, and I know how shiny things disappear around you.

Happiest belated Valentine's day.

XO Tina.

…

Newt mopped his face with his hand. He left his hand resting on his chin, fingered his newly grown beard, as he set down Tina's letter and pen.

'XO Tina.' Was that a kiss and a hug? or was that just how American's signed valentine's letters?

He tried to figure out how he felt and all he could decide was that he was overwhelmed. He was happy to know that Pickett was doing well, because he had been worried about his small friend. However, he was also slightly upset that Tina had been awake for two weeks and was just now writing to him. He chastised himself for that thought, he did tell her to write him when she was feeling better. He never specified she had to do it when she was awake and not completely better. However, a side of him wished he would have known she was going to be okay sooner. He could feel the stress in his stomach tighten like a knot as he thought about the last few hellish weeks.

It has been very hard to come back from the Brownstone in New York. Not only was it hard emotionally, it was hard physically. Once he landed back in the Ministry, he walked himself back into his office and got right back to work, despite only having an hour or two of sleep in almost 2 days.

It was about 3pm when he heard a knock at his door. He had looked from a pile of creature cases that he is attempting to read. However, his eyes couldn't focus on the words and frankly, he was exhausted and didn't care. When the door opened he was surprised to see Minister Tolipan. It felt likes ages since he had last seen the man, even though he knew it was only about 24 hours before.

To Newt's surprised, Minister Tolipan levitated a haphazard pile of creature cases off the guest chair in Newt's office and sat down across from him. Tolipan than apologized to him about not telling him about Tina's condition. He has known for at least a week and had not mentioned it to Newt. He expressed his sympathy for Tina's situation and remorse at his own slip in leadership.

Newt was flabbergasted, especially since he never mentioned Tina to the Minister when he asked for the portkey.

Tolipan said to him "If it had been my Mary, I would have wanted to know right away. I knew you worked well with Auror Goldstein, and I knew you two were close. I'm sorry. I promise I won't force you to come to too many Ministry events while she is recovering. Only one or two. You're no good to us worried and distracted." Tolipan winked and started to leave Newt's office and turned around adding "Oh and come Monday, I am going to have a part-timer come to your office to take care of your creature cases for you."

Newt's mouth was still open in shock when the door closed. Not only was he going to get out of almost all the events he figured the Minster would force him to attend through their deal. He had been asking for years for an assistant, and now with Tina injured, he gets one. He wished he could have been happier at this good fortunes.

At 5pm he took the Floo Network from the Ministry to Hogsmead and made the long hike up to the castle. Dumbledore once again greeted him at the door. He and Newt went up to the empty Transfiguration classroom, where the case was sitting locked and tied behind the teacher's desk. Dumbledore walked Newt through his case and showed him that all his creatures are fine. He occasionally made comments and suggestions to Newt about how to improve the cases's transfiguration spells. Over all, Newt was thoroughly impressed. All the mooncalfs pups are happy and healthy and despite the niffler's interest in Dumbledore's glasses, they remain on his face. Dougal hugs Newt when he saw him and looked around curiously for Pickett.

Dumbledore had dinner brought by a house elf into the case and the two men discussed Tina's condition, dementor's breath, and Newt's every impressive case. By 7pm Newt had fallen asleep on the cot in his shack, and Dumbledore did one more round of feeding and tending to the mooncalf pups, for his young exhausted friend. Dumbledore, thankfully let him sleep.

Newt woke up early the next day, and was surprised not only to find himself inside his case, but also still at Hogwarts. He had no choice but to bring his case to work with him that day, and hope no one noticed.

The next two weeks for Newt had been agony. He forced himself to focus on work and caring for his creatures. He told himself not to worry about Tina too much, because worrying would only make him suffer twice. During this time, he stopped shaving every morning, he decided that he couldn't be bothered with wasting the time.

The new part-timer worker that Minister Tolipan had promised showed up promptly the morning of Monday, July 28th. Her name was Vivian Easton, but she preferred to be called Viv. Newt continually forgot that fact, and every time he called her "Miss. Easton", she would respond with a smile and say "Please, call me Viv. Don't make me ask again."

She was nice enough, she made steady progress on the creature cases. However, to Newt's annoyance, she interrupted him several time during the day. She wanted to ask about his book, and how it was coming along. She wanted to know how he liked his tea, and what he thought of her new sweater. Did he like going to Quidditch games? Her brother played quidditch professionally, and he could get Newt tickets if he wanted them. All useless prattle, Newt thought.

He was growing tired of her fast, and he almost wished his department didn't have a part-timer. Or at least one with her desk outside someone else's office other than his.

His mother had even stopped by his apartment a few times to see him. He had finally told her about Tina and her attack. His mother was surprisingly sympathy to Tina's situation. Not that Newt would call his mother heartless, it's just…she was so…English. Very cool on the outside, rarely displayed emotions in regards to humans and she really only showed affection to her Hippogriffs. His whole family had put so much pressure on him and his brother to work their way up through the Ministry. Of course, Theseus had properly impressed their parents, with his heroic past and continual presence at important Ministry functions. However, Newt was the perpetual disappointment.

Between being expelled from Hogwarts and taking the only position in the Ministry that interested him, he settled in. Without good N.E.W.T. scores, (which he never took) his chances at any major promotions was slim. When he enlisted to work with dragons, instead of at the front, his parents sighed. He could still remember the cool look of disappointment on his mother's face when he told her he was taking a yearlong sabbatical to work on his book. Little did his mother know that his book had already pre-sold enough copies that he could leave a bag of gold with Queenie and not even feel it's loss.

So his mother's interest in Tina was a surprise. He wasn't surprised she sent Tina something, even though she had not mentioned it to him. He looked back at the letter he had just received. Hippogriff shaped cookies were her specialty, but he knew which article she had sent Tina, and it wasn't...the most flattering to him. The article referred to him as "an uncomfortable and anxious individual." As well as "fanatical and obsessed with his area of research." Newt sighed again, he knew those facts to be true, if not... complimentary.

He skimmed Tina's letter again, and again, and again. He fixated on the details of her attack. He closed his eyes and watched in play out in his head. Tears ran down his cheek.

Suddenly he was furious with Billy. Billy, whom he thought was dragging his feet while taking him to Tina's, was indeed doing it on purpose! Newt knew that he had been jealous of Billy, and his time with Tina. However to know that he was trying to plant doubts in Tina's mind about him, disgusted him. How dare Billy imply that he, Newt Scamander, thought Tina Goldstein, the bravest woman he had ever know and love of his life, was weak! How dare he poison her again him with fictitious reasons why he hadn't written.

If Billy was the cause of all of this, so Merlin help him, he was going to teach Billy a lesson.

His fists were shaking again. Newt took a few deep breaths to calm down, this wasn't him, he needed to calm down. He had too much to think about to waste any more time or energy on Billy Bricks.

With every deep breath Newt felt the tension in his chest loosen. Like a large Ashwinder had taken up residence in his chest a few weeks ago and only now started to uncurl itself. He had finally heard from Tina, that is all that mattered now.

He looked up at the picture of her, the gift from Queenie, that he kept on his desk. She was alive. She was awake. She wrote him back. She still cared for him.

Right now, that is all that matters.