Where Fancy Is Free

1920

1 It was considered a strange little quirk of Celestia's that was tolerated if not understood, the fact that she started to correspond regularly with Newt Scamander. She suspected he only did this because she was in need of someone who both understood her heartache and who wasn't Alastair, but every time she wrote to him, he responded promptly. There was always also that fateful episode that had got him thrown out of school – something they had in common, something she still felt she should've tried to stop. Alas (and oh, the dramatic thoughts always manifested themselves in Alastair's theatre voice), events had unfolded the way they had. There was no changing them. No-one had ever been allowed to use a time-turner in order to repair a mistake of the past, at least that was how the saying went. One just had to learn to live with one's decisions, as well as their consequences. That was called character growth, Mother always said.

Another thing Celestia and Newt also had in common was Leta Lestrange, at least in a sense. It was amusing, wasn't it? Alastair would be able to find humour in this bizarre situation, at least. Leta used to be Newt's friend and hate the Slytherins. Now, she was tight with all those she'd once claimed to hate, but miles apart from Newt. To say they were estranged would be the understatement of the century. There was an abyss between them as deep at time.

From what Celestia could gather, though, he still had feelings for Leta – complicated ones. She didn't believe it was her place to prod, but some of his letters let shine through not only resentment and blame, but also rueful affection. That was what love was: it either lasted forever or left a lasting impression. In all honesty, she didn't believe that if a person stopped loving another, then it must not have been actual love. No, that wasn't how it worked. Sometimes, people grew apart. Sometimes, they found out things about each other they disliked too much. A lot could happen in the way of stretching love so thin, it ended up puttering out somehow. That didn't mean it had not been love at all.

She believed that this was how Newt felt about Leta. Maybe he still loved her, but it seemed more likely that he'd become so disillusioned, his love had died. It left an impression, though. It changed him. Well, of course it did. After all, love changed everything. It wasn't a weakness. It wasn't sentimentality. It was the force that made the world go 'round. Now, that was something Celestia believed with all of her heart.

The fact that Leta had started a relationship with Newt's older brother Theseus upon the latter's return to England made it all so much more complicated.

Celestia was outside, taking a stroll through the gardens, when one of the owls brought her Newt's latest letter. It was the perfect excuse for her to sit under the two huge apple trees that were in full blossom. Her baby bump was getting too big for her to move around carelessly. She was out of breath all the time, even though the cold, the weariness, and the excruciating bouts of vertigo and nausea had ceased. This was a quiet pregnancy, and despite everything else, she did look forward to meeting her baby.

Oh, the moments she caught herself wishing Alastair were the father were the worst.

Chiding herself internally and making a face, she put those thoughts to rest as well as she could. Life went on. The grief didn't go away or even subside substantially, but as long as she stayed away from Alastair, it was quite manageable.

She tore open the envelope, pulled out the letter, squinted at the sunlight reflecting off the parchment, and read.

Hello Celestia,

thank you for your last letter. I'm well. The article on full moon moths I wrote will be enough to credit me the full degree of magizoologist. I'll have more freedom to work with magical creatures that way. It'll be easier for me to get my hands on supplies I need to care for the creatures now that I'm not only just a Hogwarts dropout.

My family is in good health. I suppose you've heard that my brother Theseus and Leta are now sweethearts. He's taken over management at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It suits him, this line of work, even though the rest of us are clueless as to where he's got his proclivities from. No matter; he's happy.

I will be in London on the 15th of March. If you fancy a chat, I'll meet you there. If you don't, no worries. I won't be offended.

How is everything at Malfoy Manor?

Best regards,

your friend Newt.

She had to admit that her first reaction was rather selfish: she was touched. This was the first time he'd called her his friend. Well, they had been exchanging letters for about a year, now, and he'd been at her wedding the past August. As far as she could tell, he'd pretty much got over her involvement in his expulsion, mainly because she was still trying hard to make it up to him. Three months ago, she'd even contacted Headmaster Black to tell him the truth. He'd replied that it had long ceased to matter. Also, none of the others who'd been involved in the incident would ever confirm her version.

Newt's reaction had been an utter lack of surprise, but he'd given her some credit for trying. It had been too little, too late, but better than nothing – better than what Leta had managed.

Celestia read the letter again. It was heart-breaking, wasn't it? How he told her that Leta was now romancing his brother, how he suspected it was mostly because of his brother's profession and social status. For all Celestia knew, this was highly unfair, but she could understand the sentiment. As long as the relationship wasn't the result of coercion, then Newt had no reason to be forgiving toward either of them. No, it wasn't exactly fair and it wasn't reasonable, this reaction. It was, however, human.

The fact that he'd not found it in himself to write anything about Leta except that one mention was telling enough about how hurt he must be.

This was another thing they had in common, wasn't it? Heartache.

She pushed herself to her sore feet, lumbered back inside, laboured upstairs to her room, and sat down at the heavy desk to write a reply.

Dearest Newt,

thank you for your kind letter. I am well, as is my family. Congratulations on earning an academic title as prestigious as magizoologist. You are, as far as I know, the most qualified person for the profession.

Yes, I have heard the news about your brother. It's quite a prestigious position he's earned himself! You and your parents must be very proud, and for good reason.

Soon enough, I will no longer be able to travel, at least for a while. Therefore, your invitation comes at the best possible time, and I accept it gladly. We could meet at that charming Austrian café opposite Madam Malkin's, at three in the afternoon? That would be lovely.

I look forward to seeing you in person and wish you all the best.

Until then, I remain your loyal friend,

Celestia.

Promptly, she sealed the letter and went to find an owl. It would in all probability be easier to just summon a House Elf, but those poor things were abused enough as it was. This was another thing she hoped she could find a solution to without provoking the Malfoys' ire. It would not do to upset the apple cart, but it also would not do to mistreat House Elves when one was friends with someone like Newt Scamander.

He would argue that all a person needed was a basic level of decency, that how one appeared in front of others mattered nothing.

He'd be right, too.

Old habits, however, were hard to break.

2 "I suppose that it's become fashionable to be friends with a Scamander, even if it's not the right one," Apollo said, managing to sound both amused and earnest, as he helped Celestia into her shoes. "Will you tell Newton than his brother, his ex, and the two of us" – He placed his right hand carefully on Celestia's stomach – "three of us will be having dinner on Friday?"

"I will. It would be akin to subterfuge if I didn't," she said, and allowed him to pull her up to her feet.

"But how to breach the subject? How do you say 'listen, four days hence, I'll be dining with your former sweetheart, who coincidentally is now romantically entangled with your much more successful brother'?"

For some reason, she had to snicker. "Exactly like that. He may not like what I have to say, but he'll appreciate candour."

He smiled down at her, cupped her face, and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "You're a good person, you know that? Very sweet."

"Thank you," she said, returning the expression. Not that she believed herself to be a paragon of virtue, but she appreciated the sentiment.

It was also a relief that the whole…well, physical aspect of the marriage was something she'd got used to with relative ease. There was no telling him that it would never be like it had been with Alastair, of course, but it was fine. They'd been awkward with each other at first, but had got used to each other over time.

Right now, at the height of her pregnancy, she at least had an excuse to want to sleep alone.

As always when this kind of thought rattled through her head, she felt like slapping herself or, alternatively, jumping into the nearest available pit. This was so silly.

Lucky to be unaware of her musings, he let go of her face and took her hands, instead. "You're honestly fond of him, aren't you?"

She nodded. "He's a decent man. We may not have too much in common, but being his friend elevates me, and he's kind enough to indulge me."

"No, my darling. He's the lucky one." He briefly raised her left hand to his lips. "But the luckiest man on Earth am I."

"Apollo…" She felt heat rising to her face and opted to stupidly stare down at her baby bump. The baby was sleeping. Earlier, he or she had kicked up a right riot – dramatic like only reality could be, as Alastair would say.

"It's true. You never knew, did you? At school? Of course you didn't, and I don't blame you." He put his arms around her and leaned his cheek against her voluminous hairdo. "Luck ended up being on my side, though. I loved you then and I love you now."

Oh, no. Her stomach cramped. A knot formed in her throat. The constant pain in her back, usually dull, flared up. She couldn't help but press her lips together tightly and bite her tongue. What was she supposed to say to that? What was she supposed to say to that? All she could see before her mind's eye was Alastair, windswept and trying so hard not to weep, on the day she'd left him.

"You don't need to say anything," he said, in a quiet tone, as he held her. "I know. I understand. It's like I told you on the night of our engagement: I hope that one day, you'll feel about me the way you've always felt about Alastair."

"But you lied to me," she heard herself saying. "You told me you never loved anyone like that."

"I know. I didn't want to pressure you." Gently, he took her by the shoulders and pushed her away only far enough to be able to look her in the eye. "And I'm not pressuring you now. I don't expect you to cut out your heart and reshape it to fit my wishes. I know you're doing the best you can. In time, you will find happiness with me…with our children. I promise you that."

"Yes," she said, but it sounded hollow in her own ears.

Again, he kissed her. "You should get going. Mustn't keep young Newton waiting."

"No, we mustn't." She briefly took his hand and then turned to leave. Her heart was heavy. For the first time, she felt like crying not for herself or for Alastair, but for Apollo.

His hope was in vain, wasn't it?

How could she let him believe that one day, he might have something that she would never be able to give him? Maybe this was cowardice, too, but she couldn't tell him the truth.

Two broken hearts were quite enough.

3 She reached London almost an hour too early, and that was taking in the fact that Newt always arrived late to appointments. That was good. After all, she had to pick up some baby clothes at Madam Malkin's, and it was always nice to window shop. Maybe she'd even find a book she liked, or buy a magazine. It wasn't as if the in-laws crowded her or anything, but being out and about in the big city was always a pleasant experience. The many sights to see, the constant background noise of passers-by having conversations, getting caught in the tide of the crowd: all of this took Celestia's mind off whatever kept her awake at night.

Every time she visited the city, she felt peaceful.

That feeling of cool serenity pervading her abruptly vanished when she all but ran into Leta Lestrange and Theseus Scamander inside the tailor shop.

Leta was showing off obviously new clothes, a low-cut red gown that hugged her figure and suited her incredibly well. She was, after all, a very beautiful woman. Together with the very handsome Theseus, she cut a fine figure. When she saw Celestia walk inside, she cracked a sleek smile. "You weren't supposed to see this until Friday!"

Both Theseus and young Madam Malkin turned to the new arrival.

The latter smiled, saying, "Good day, Misses Malfoy. I'll be with you shortly."

"Thank you." It was so very, very odd for Celestia to be addressed like that. It was as if the truth hadn't quite sunk in yet, despite her advanced pregnancy.

"My, my, Misses Malfoy, you are positively glowing!" Theseus used his usual comradely, chummy tone. He took Celestia's hand and mimicked a kiss.

"You both look very fine together," Celestia said amiably. She didn't know Newt's older brother well, only having met him a handful of times over the past years, but he seemed like a genuinely congenial fellow.

It wasn't his fault, what had transpired between Newt and Leta; he hadn't been in the country during most of it. Still, maybe it wasn't too admirable to start a relationship with a sibling's ex, but life was complicated that way.

Celestia could write an opera about how complicated life could be. "That is a beautiful dress, Leta, and it suits you perfectly."

Leta's smile grew more genuine. "Thank you. Are you here to pick up a new gown, as well?"

"No, nothing for me." She folded her hands atop her stomach.

"So, what do you reckon?" Theseus had a way of smirking and grinning his way through conversations that was so unlike his brother's demeanour, it was hard to see any kind of resemblance. They didn't objectively look like one another either, even though both were about the same height and on the thin side. "Boy or girl?"

"My mother says girl, but I don't know. Neither Apollo nor I care, though. We just want the baby to be healthy."

"We all want that," he said warmly. "It's good that you're happy. I heard about the whole Fawley thing-"

Leta slapped his arm. "Theseus!"

He frowned at her. "What?"

Celestia raised her hands. "It's quite all right, Leta, and thank you – both of you. I'm glad you two found happiness together, as well."

They exchanged a look that was so contented, so intimate, it was a little difficult to witness.

She couldn't help but think of Newt, of the last letter he'd sent her.

But such was the nature of love, wasn't it? Unpredictable and devastating.

4 Due to her own fault, she arrived at the café a little late and found Newt inside, reading a tattered little book with a horrendously ugly blue monster drawn on the cover. That rang a bell. Hadn't she seen this thing at some point? During their time together at Hogwarts? Maybe. Probably. Neither she, nor anyone who wasn't him had ever cared much about fantastic beasts.

He was really focussed on his reading, frowning a little into the book. The cup of tea in front of him was cooling, ignored.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said, and took a seat, ignoring the usual protocol, which required him to invite her to sit.

A little startled, he looked up. He put the book into the briefcase by his feet. "It's not a problem. I was occupied." He motioned about. "It's nice, this place. I've never been here before."

She raised a hand to greet the proprietor, who already knew what she'd order, and smiled. "I used to come here all the time with my sister, when she was still around."

Good gracious, that sounded as if Nocturna had died. No, the wayward Prewett sibling was just somewhere in Eastern Europe, cavorting with a bunch of dark wizards with dubious intent – intent, it seemed, that most people Celestia knew sympathised with.

She herself wasn't so sure, but none of these political matters were her problem, anyway, were they? No. It was best to keep out of such complicating, world-changing matters. There was a matter, however, she felt she needed to discuss with him, loath as she was to breach the subject. "Listen, Newt, there's something I must tell you."

This was the first time he looked her in the eye. "About your dinner with my brother and Leta?"

For a few seconds, she just stared at him, unable to think of a proper reply. "I…I was hoping you'd…you know." She looked down at her hands. "That you'd hear it from me."

He took his sweet time to reply, as well. "Nice of you to come all the way here to tell me."

"It's the least I could do." Her tea arrived. She smiled at the waiter, who absconded just as quickly as he'd approached the table. "I'm sorry." She almost told him that she knew exactly how painful this kind of situation was, but this wasn't about her. That, at least, was a lesson she'd learned over the years: Celestia Prewett was not the centre of the universe, and the universe did not revolve around her precious little feelings.

"Thanks, anyway." He pressed the knuckles of his right hand to his lips and discreetly cleared his throat. "You're decent, as far as friends go."

That made her smile. "I'm happy to oblige."