Sylvia waited at the back and clutched the new book closely.
There was certainly more a crowd than she expected, it seemed the idea of a book just about creatures and not how to kill or avoid them was very revolutionary. People chattered excitedly. The small hall was practically alight with fevour. Sylvia was practically alight with nerves.
She made a feeble attempt at trying to remember the last time they talked but quickly gave up after it made her feel tremendously old. Fingering the small scar that had claimed its place on her chin (a memento from the third dark-wizard she had caught), her brow furrowed. Would he even recognise her? His brother did, Theseus, not so long ago, but Newt had done so much more since he left Hogwarts. Perhaps the memory of her was distant. Sylvia toyed with the book in her hand. She pondered just leaving.
Newt might have made a comfortable life for him. Maybe her coming back would just drag up a well of bad memories and reveries. He had clearly moved on and moved on well.
But she hadn't.
Sylvia shuffled further back to the crowd and made sure she would be the last one to see him. Now, she realised, her choice of time and place was poor. A reunion such as this shouldn't have really been in public. She hadn't felt this nervous in years.
One by one, the crowd slowly dissipated, until only a small wizard family remained. Still remaining at the back of the hall, she watched as the smallest son handed over his copy of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' to its author. A bright smile spread across his small face as he shared a small conversation with Newt. He seemed more than happy to write a rather long and complicated message in the books first pages. The son jumped in ecstasy, turning to his mother and chattering happily. After everything was done, the family turned away, grins upon their faces as they left the hall.
It was Sylvia's turn.
She made her way across the hall, her heels echoing loudly against the walls. Her hands felt exceptionally clammy. Thankfully, Newt had not looked up yet – presuming the last of his fans had left as he scribbled something in a notebook. It reminded her of the first time she saw him.
Sylvia placed the book on the clothed table. Newt had still not looked up, though his eyes flickered to the book.
"For?" He said quickly as he hurried to finish his notes.
"If you could make it out to..." Sylvia's mouth ran dry. "...a silly girl who never realised how much her closest friend meant to her, who... never realised her actions and," She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Wishes she could take the last four years of her schooling back – I'd be quite grateful," Sylvia whispered.
Newt did not look up, but his pen instantly stilled as he heard her voice. "Perhaps... something shorter?"
"Okay. How about, a girl who regrets turning her back on someone who was always there for her... or..." Sylvia's voice cracked and she trailed off. Newt had still not looked up.
"How about... a girl who was going through a very troubling time in her life and made the same mistakes anyone would have made in her position." He paused. "Her friend... would no doubt forgive her."
"I'm sure she would not deserve that." Her voice sounded impossibly thick.
He looked up slowly. They finally made eye-contact. It reminded her of the first time they met, in a stuffy Care of Magical Creatures classroom in Hogwarts.
"Hello, Newt," Sylvia mumbled, her voice barely a whisper and her brows knitted in sorrow.
"Hello, Sylvia," Newt said calmly, though concern was evidently on his face.
An awkward silence fell, as Sylvia quickly tore her eyes from the man in front of her to a tall window to her left.
She heard shuffling, and in her peripheral vision, she saw Newt stand and slowly make his way around the table. He stood in front of her directly. He had certainly grown taller.
Sylvia looked into his eyes again, her vision slightly clouded.
They were hugging before she knew it. Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as his were wound snugly around her waist. She was glad that she could hide her pained face over his shoulder. Minutes passed. Neither of them was sure how many.
Eventually, they pulled apart, both of them seemed reluctant to let the other go. They stood a small space apart as Sylvia tried to regain her composure.
"You have no idea," Sylvia sniffed. "How pleased I am to see you're doing okay. When I awoke in the hospital wing," She swallowed and Newt placed an affectionate hand on her shoulder. "I feared the worst. I thought your life was..."
"Over?" Newt finished. "No, no. Strangely enough, there's a life after Hogwarts, I found out. Dumbledore helped me find a place in the world."
"I don't think I ever thanked him enough," Sylvia mumbled.
"Neither did I," Newt whispered. He played with his hands for a moment, before looking at Sylvia under his mop of hair. "Perhaps... we should continue this somewhere else?"
"I..." Something in Sylvia's gut twisted. "No... I've interrupted your life enough. I just," She sighed. "Wanted to make sure you were getting on alright."
A playful half-smile spread across half of Newt's face. "You're being awfully selfish."
Sylvia blanched. "I'm sorry?"
"You may have had your closure in finding out my life is going well." He looked at her confidently. "But I haven't had the same."
Sylvia's eyebrows raised. She hadn't contemplated for a second that Newt would care what she had been up to since she had left school. Her plan originally was to talk to him, make sure he was doing okay, and leave. She had disturbed his life enough. But there he was, a bright smile upon his lips as he stared at his old friend. Sylvia returned it.
"If... you're free? I mean you look fairly busy."
"Tremendously so." Newt laughed. "But I can make time."
Sylvia shuffled in her spot. The hall seemed deafeningly quiet. "Well, I know a cafe not so far-"
"I have some place better," Newt said quickly as if waiting for Sylvia to begin talking.
He walked back to his table and picked up his suitcase. He extended his hand with a mysterious glint in his eye. She noticed the strange scars and markings upon his fingers. There were many.
"There's something I've been wanting to show you for some time. Will you follow me?"
Sylvia laughed. Newt certainly wasn't the shy boy she had met all those years ago anymore. She grasped his hand, not quite sure where he was going. Sylvia found she didn't care.
"Anywhere." She replied.
It was marvellous.
It seemed Newt had certainly learned a trick or two off of his mother.
When Sylvia had grasped his hand, she had expected him to lead her out of the hall and into the world – but no. He held her hand and opened his suitcase, and to Sylvia's very obvious surprise – he climbed into it. She had physically clapped her hand on her forehead when she realised how exactly Newt it was. A suitcase he could carry with him at all times, no one the wiser, which contained some of the magical worlds weirdest and most dangerous creatures. He had a name for each and every one.
She had forgotten how much she had missed his secretive yet playful side because it never failed to surprise her.
"And you created all of this?" Sylvia gasped as Newt walked her around.
"Yes." He replied simply, as he bent down to fuss over yet another odd looking being.
"Ingenious." Sylvia laughed.
After a full tour of the suitcase, of the different 'biomes' and the creatures that belonged to them, they settled where they originally started. It was a desert area, though it looked like the creature that belonged there was gone. Sylvia asked Newt about it, as he stood at a table preparing large pieces of meat. She sat upon a large crate.
"Oh, Frank used to reside there. I... let him go recently. In New York." He glanced once at her, before keeping his eyes trained on the large pieces of beef in front of him.
Sylvia nodded in understanding as she observed his slightly pained face. It made her heart swell to see how much he cared about these weird yet wonderful creatures. It made her realise just how kind he was. How had she never noticed before?
Newt made another loud chop before scraping all of the meat into a bucket. He wiped his hands on a spare rag before hesitantly looking at her.
"How... have you been doing then? I hear you're quite the successful Auror now."
Sylvia laughed. "I'm not too sure about successful. But yes. Hence the new addition to my face." She stroked her scar again.
"I think it suits you."
Sylvia raised an eyebrow though she still smiled. "Oh?"
"You always had the hard appearance of someone who survived." He said plainly. "Now you have the scar to prove it."
"Oh." Brief flashes of the Forbidden Forest appeared in her mind. By the look on Newt's face, he was thinking the same thing too.
"Do you... still talk to Leta?" A heavy feeling settled between the both of them.
He broke eye contact with her immediately. Sylvia wanted to punch herself for bringing her name up.
"I'm sorry – I shouldn't of-" She began to apologise.
"No." Newt placed the rag gently back on the table. "I suppose I can't avoid talking about her for the rest of my life." He whispered. Newt looked back to Sylvia with a shy glance. "To answer your question – no. I haven't talked to her since... everything happened."
"Neither have I," Sylvia confessed. "She changed, you know, after that night."
"I imagine so," Newt whispered.
A silence descended. Sylvia felt exceptionally awkward. The way he had talked about Leta in his last letter, it had seemed that he had harboured no hard feelings. But looking at his eyes as Newt stared at Sylvia's shoes, she could see that it was not the case. She figured it was simply a case of Newt protecting Sylvia's feelings once again. Had he wrote in that letter that he hated Leta with every fibre of his being, no doubt Sylvia would have hunted Leta down to her last dying breath. But he hadn't. She wasn't sure whether it was to protect Sylvia, Leta or both.
Sylvia slid off the tall crate and stood.
"I suppose the past is the past. And that's where it should stay." Sylvia said confidently. Why had she come all this way - to talk about bad things that had happened previously? No, Sylvia wouldn't have it that way. "Now, Mr Scamander." Newt looked back to her with a curious expression. "There's someone I'd quite like to see again. As his... father, I think, I have every right."
Newt looked completely and unabashedly confused for a second before he grasped what she was saying. A large smile broke out on his face.
Much better, Sylvia thought.
"Right this way, Mr. Segovstein."
Sylvia laughed louder as he lead her towards an old friends enclosure. A small, leafless tree stood in the middle - an actual tree this time, and Sylvia did not mistake the Bowtruckles for leaves again. She saw a recognisable face.
Her small, green friend recognised her immediately and outstretched its odd arms towards her.
"It seems he certainly remembers you." Newt chuckled as they stooped low to observe Pickett. The wizard glanced towards his female friend when she saw she wasn't moving. "Well?"
"Oh, of course." She didn't mention the fact that she had been thinking about the time he dragged her to the Forbidden Forest to show her Pickett for the first time just so she could forget about her family's troubles with Grindelwald.
Sylvia outstretched her hand slowly, and Pickett climbed onto her hand eagerly. Climbing up her arm, he chattered excitedly all the way to her shoulder. Sylvia froze, nervous that she might spook the small being. The other Bowtruckles on the tree watched silently, somehow managing to cast tiny looks of disapproval.
"I'm surprised he still remembers me," Sylvia whispered, scared she might deafen Pickett.
"Oh, Bowtruckles have a fantastic memory," Newt watched the pair with a small smile. "Especially towards those who made an impact on them."
"Did I?" Pickett played with a loose strand of Sylvia's hair.
"Oh, definitely. It's one of the few things we have in common."
Sylvia cast Newt a soft look and smile.
"Are you returning to England soon?" Newt said after a blunt moment, apparently keen to change the conversation quickly.
"Yes." Pickett made a short noise of disapproval. "I only managed to arrange for today and tomorrow off – and that was difficult." Sylvia sighed.
"Ministry work, eh?" Newt laughed, now trying to coerce Pickett back down Sylvia's shoulder.
Sylvia hummed.
"I, um, wanted to show you something else," Newt removed Pickett from Sylvia's person and placed him delicately back on the tree. He stood and gestured for Sylvia to follow.
Raising an eyebrow, Sylvia said nothing and tailed him to the tiny room which held the entrance ladder. She spied the small typewriter she saw on the way in.
"I may have been preoccupied these past few months..." Newt pulled a small footstool and stood on it, reaching to a high cupboard. Pulling out a small trunk from on top of the cupboard with a grunt, he placed it on one of the few empty counters.
Sylvia stared at the small trunk and gave Newt a quizzing look. He turned to her nervously.
"Open it," He instructed.
Sylvia's hand twitched towards her wand, though she wasn't completely sure why.
"O..kay?" Sylvia grasped the clasps on the trunk and flicked them both carefully. The trunk looked fairly old, older than the suitcase in which it resided. She looked once more to Newt, who nodded his head at the trunk again.
Sylvia lifted the lid. Her eyes widened.
She plucked a letter from the enormous pile within and eyed the handwriting.
"Are these...?"
"Your letters?" Newt finished a strange mixture of pride and embarrassment on his face. "Yes. I..."
Sylvia never realised she had sent so many. Some of the letters looked more recent, and some of them had begun to turn a sickly yellow from age. The whole trunk smelt like old parchment and her home.
"Theseus told me you had gotten them," Sylvia whispered. "I never realised you kept them."
"There was a lot going on in my life, Sylvia-" Newt picked up another random letter and played with it, not making eye-contact. "There were so many memories and-"
"You don't have to explain to me, Newt," Sylvia said, returning the envelope in her hands to the trunk. "I understand."
Newt stared at Sylvia blankly for a moment. She plucked the letter from Newt's hand and tossed that onto the pile too before closing the trunk and flicking the clasps.
"You're doing fine, I'm doing fine," Sylvia turned back to her longest friend with a small smile. "No more needs to be said."
"I felt so guilty," Newt mumbled. "About everything that happened. It was my-"
"Stop right there, Newt Scamander." Sylvia snapped. Newt looked surprised at the bite in her voice. She softened it with a sigh before speaking again. "That most certainly wasn't your fault. What happened... happened. I can't say I can look back and laugh just yet, but-" Sylvia toyed with a small jar next to her. "We're alive. You're now a successful magizoologist with a book and everything..." Sylvia grew frustrated with her own ramblings. "Merlin, Newt, what part of 'no more needs to be said' do you not understand?" She said with a tired laugh.
Newt gave his own small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's quite rhetorical if I'm honest."
Sylvia chuckled again.
"There was something else I was wondering..." Newt began. He sounded serious, but there was a playful edge in his eyes that Sylvia instantly recognised. "Now that you're an Auror and everything,"
"Yes?"
"There's a boggart in that drawer that I just haven't had the chance to get rid of yet."
Sylvia rolled her eyes as she withdrew her wand. "Open it, then."
Newt's half-smile returned.
For years Sylvia had felt a tightness in her chest, unsure whether it was heartache or heartburn. In the quietness of Newt's suitcase, though, it was easy to distinguish between the two.
It felt as if a weight had been lifted and a door had finally been shut.
From that day on, they exchanged letters frequently, updating one another on their life's events and happenings. She never wrote an address, for Newt was always in some part of the world Sylvia couldn't pronounce or had never heard of. Sylvia sat in her office regularly, thumbing through another letter from her friend, smiling to herself as he filled her in. He needn't, really, Newt had become so popular that she only need to look in the Daily Prophet for news about him.
She had received a letter from him barely two days previous. It was the same as most, apart from attached was a delicate invitation to Newt's thirtieth birthday party. She thought it was odd at first, never penning Newt the type to throw a birthday party, but she quickly filled in the return slip and mailed it nonetheless. Sylvia very much hoped it would be a small affair.
She was wrong.
A huge marquee had been set up in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside, spells and enchantments set around it to prevent any Muggle intervention. Apparating there, she first thought she had accidentally attended the Quidditch World Cup until she saw the huge banner saying 'Happy Birthday Newt!' stretched along the huge cloth of the marquee. It was almost impossibly crowded. Various witches and wizards from all walks of life, some wearing seemingly expensive robes of silk and satin, some appearing as if they had just stepped out of the African plains. She recognised a few Ministry officials and was almost gob-smacked when she collided with none other than Malvin and his husband, Malphus. They exchanged small conversation until Sylvia spotted Newt in the crowd inside the marquee, surrounded by a group of people she once again was not familiar with. Excusing herself, Sylvia made her way over.
Newt saw her approach and his face lightened. He was wearing a humble suit, almost underdressed for his own occasion, but it was very true to himself. Sylvia bowed her head and wished him a happy birthday.
"Thank you, you're here just in time!" He gestured to the three people around him. "These are some friends I'd like you to meet."
He waved to a tall, brunette with short clipped hair. She smiled rather timidly. "This is Porpetina Goldstein. She's an Auror just like yourself."
It was finally nice to put a name to a face, Sylvia thought. She only had to look at the last four letters from Newt to have a complete back story about Tina's life. Sharing a small look with Newt, who quickly blinked and averted his gaze, Sylvia presumed this was a secret he didn't want to be shared.
Sylvia extended a hand politely and Tina shook it. "Please, call me Tina."
"A pleasure to meet you, Tina," Sylvia said warmly. "I must admit I'm fairly surprised to see friends who don't possess tails or sharp, poisonous teeth."
The group laughed heartily and a small blush crept upon Newt's cheeks. "Well, yes. This is Tina's sister, Queenie, and her husband Jacob. I met them in New York."
Sylvia shook both the blonde's and the male's hands and they exchanged quick pleasantries. Queenie's eyes reviewed Sylvia slowly. It wasn't threatening, just innately... curious. There was a small twinkle in her eye. Sylvia thought anxiously, thinking she must have something in her teeth and it was Queenie's polite way of notifying her.
"Oh no, dear, your teeth are just fine."
Sylvia's eyes widened. "A legilimens, I presume?"
"Yes." Tina sighed.
She couldn't imagine how tiring it must have been growing up with a natural Legilimens as a sister. Sylvia focused on her Auror training and made sure to clear her mind for fear of an embarrassing moment. She could control her appearance quite well, her thoughts, however, were another matter entirely.
"I must excuse myself, so many people to greet, so little time." Newt scanned the crowd and he looked worried for a moment. "I may have been too enthusiastic with the guest list."
Newt wandered off into the crowd without another word and disappeared into the thickness.
"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this," Jacob mumbled as he toyed with the glass in his hand. "You wizards always throw birthday parties this big?"
Sylvia's eyes narrowed for a moment in confusion. 'You wizards?' She connected the dots. He was a muggle.
Queenie talked to him as they wondered off to her left. Tina looked awfully sad to see them go.
Sylvia and Tina remained, and it seemed Tina felt just as uncomfortable as Sylvia was.
"So... um, have you known Newt long?" Tina said, sipping at her glass and shuffling her feet. Sylvia almost didn't hear what she said over the rambunctious noise of the party.
"We went to Hogwarts together," Sylvia replied loudly. "And yes, he was just as peculiar back then as well." She laughed. Porpetina looked surprised for a moment.
"How did you know I was about to ask that?" Tina almost looked suspicious.
"Because it's what everyone asks." Sylvia chuckled.
"Hey, um, have you got a minute?" Tina pointed her head towards the exit, placing her glass on a table behind them.
"Sure?" Sylvia replied, unsure of Tina's intentions.
She followed the equally tall witch out of the marquee and followed her until they reached a small river that flowed nearby. The sounds of chatter and music dissipated.
"I, uh, wanted to ask you a few questions." Tina toyed with her hands a little, glancing over her shoulder occasionally.
"O..kay," Sylvia said curiously, wondering why she felt slightly interrogated. She knew it was typical of Auror's, it was quite hard to break out of the disciplined mold sometimes – but Tina had an odd aura of both stern and nervousness at the same time.
"About Newt." Tina rushed.
"I take that they're the kind of questions you... can't ask him personally?" Sylvia didn't feel too comfortable talking about her friend with someone she had only just met.
"They're not too personal! Or anything! Just..." Tina's head dropped as she played with her short fingernails again. "He don't talk about himself... a lot. I was just-"
Tina was interested in him. Judging by the frequency in which Newt talked about Tina in his letters... Sylvia's eyebrow twitched upwards but she otherwise kept a calm face.
"Well, what do you want to know?" Sylvia said with a small smile. "I'm afraid I don't know much about his recent endeav-"
"Who's Leta?" Tina blurted out suddenly.
Sylvia's face dropped immediately and it was certainly something the other Auror didn't miss. Tina began fumbling with her words, scared she had crossed some invisible line until Sylvia held up a hand to gently silence her.
"Leta... was someone Newt knew from school. We both did." Nearly ten years and Sylvia still found herself talking about that girl. "She was a-" Sylvia's mouth tasted coppery. "Close friend of his."
"Was... were they... you know, close close?" Tina said, dropping her voice to an almost whisper and leaning towards Sylvia.
"You don't have to worry about Leta, Tina," Sylvia said solemnly. "She's nothing more than a distant memory." She was overly keen to move the conversation along. The Jarvey's image still flashed in her mind.
"I wasn't worried... it's just if he was still hung up on someone else, I didn't want to get in the way or anything." Tina tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.
"'Hung up' wouldn't be the word I'd use," Sylvia said thoughtfully. "But..."
Sylvia went quiet for a moment.
Sylvia would do anything for Newt, she loved him in her way - but to picture them together felt... wrong. She wanted Newt to be happy, heavens knew he deserved it, she just didn't see it with herself.
Sylvia reached out a hand, and though Tina reflectively leaned back at first, once she saw that the red-heads objective was her shoulder – she relaxed. Hand on Tina's shoulder, Sylvia levelled her eyes to her.
"Don't worry about her." Sylvia gave a gentle squeeze and Tina gave a timid smile. "Make him forget. He always deserved better." Tina frowned in confusion at Sylvia's odd choice of words.
With that Sylvia dropped her hand and turned, ready to return to the party and leave such morbid subjects behind her.
"What was Leta like?" Tina called, fists balled at her sides.
Sylvia sighed and turned back. Thought's of Newt swam in her mind's eye. To her, Leta was the reincarnation of all things bad, but to Newt she was... something else. Sylvia never knew just what.
"That depends on who you ask."
"Well, I'm asking you." Tina shrugged, vague annoyance playing over her features at Sylvia's dismissive and secretive attitude.
Vile, hateful, naïve yet vindictive. Newt's kind eyes flashed in her eyes.
"I... don't think that's for me to say."
"Just like Newt," She huffed in a whisper. "Are all you English this secretive?" Tina called.
Sylvia shrugged and smiled.
Harmonious laughter danced around the table. Sylvia struggled to keep her wine inside her mouth, Jacob, however, was far too drunk to care.
"Really? Man, I don't think I'd have kept my lunch." Jacob drawled, his New York accent seeping through heavier the more inebriated he became. Queenie patted her husband's arm affectionately.
Newt nodded his head. "I had never seen Sylvia so pale. She clutched onto Polly for dear life!"
Heat rose in Sylvia's cheeks, she wasn't sure from embarrassment or the alcohol. "In my defence, I thought Polly would soar upwards at a gradual incline - like an airplane," She made an example with her hands. "Not take off practically vertically! My body was in the air, definitely, though my stomach got left on the ground."
Laughter again, and through Newt's giggles, he tried to defend his late, treasured Hippogriff. "Polly," He hiccuped. "Was an exceptional creature-" Newt took another hearty swig of his drink, though Tina's eyes swam with disapproval.
More drunken chatter floated across the table as the four of them exchanged old banter. Sylvia checked her pocket watch and quickly sobered.
"I must be off, the last train leaves in an hour." Sylvia broke the news over the noise.
"We should too," Queenie agreed, seemingly the soberest out of the group. "Sally can only watch the kids until eleven." Jacob hummed and they made to stand.
"I gotsa' ask," Jacob said as they made their way to the door. "If you're... a witch," His Fire-Whiskey seemed to hit him much stronger as he stood. "Why the train?"
"I hate apparating," Sylvia said simply, proud that her words did not slur. Jacob nodded his understanding and Sylvia exited Tina's apartment first.
"Sylvia!" She heard Newt call from behind her.
She stopped midway on the stairs and turned around. "Huh?"
"Allow me to walk you to the station." He said, fumbling with his coat as he galloped down the stairs. Sylvia watched him curiously, as did Queenie and Jacob. Tina must have remained in her apartment.
The three said their goodbyes outside of the apartment complex, as Queenie apparated the pair presumably to their home. Once they flashed out of view, Sylvia turned to Newt.
"You know, I know the way to the station on my own?" Sylvia questioned.
Newt sucked in his lips, his old tell-tale sign of thought. "Yes, well, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Very... well." She replied nervously.
Sylvia had known him since Hogwarts, and Newt had become the poster-boy for rashly made decisions. You only needed to look at the incident with Grindelwald and Newt's missing creatures. His looking nervous only proceeded to make Sylvia the same.
Rain had started to fall around them heavily, and the buildings around them became hazy in the mist. The train-station was only a five-minute walk away, and Newt was quick to talk.
"I've been doing some thinking..." Newt began as he stuffed his hands in his pockets to protect them.
"S'always dangerous." Sylvia chuckled.
Newt smiled quickly and let out a small laugh. "Yes, well, I'm not getting any younger – and with the publication of my book and this terrible business with Grindelwald..."
"The point, Newt," Sylvia said softly. Her voice was nearly overshadowed from the rain hitting the pavement.
His eyes were darting everywhere terribly and his breath shook – and not from the cold.
"Well," He stopped suddenly. Sylvia walked another two feet before she realised. She turned around, concern clear on her face.
"Merlin, Newt, you haven't done anything dangerous, have you?" Sylvia whispered, a plan already starting to formulate in her head – mainly smuggling Newt to Africa under an alias and then-
"What? No!" He rushed. His dampening mop of hair fell in front of his eyes and he spent a moment trying to adjust it. "I..."
"Newt, for-"
"I was thinking of asking Tina to marry me." The words were so forced that had Sylvia not been looking right at him she could have sworn that he had just been punched in the gut and the words had tumbled out on accident.
"...Oh," To say the words had caught her off guard would have been a dramatic understatement. She stood shocked for a moment and felt her clothes begin to sodden. "Oh!" Sylvia's heart swelled. "That's fantastic!"
She left out the part where she detested weddings. She could suffer it for her closest friend.
Seeing Sylvia's reaction, Newt calmed down and his shoulder's relaxed. "I have my grandmother's ring but... I just wondered about something else."
They began walking again. The night suddenly seemed less cold, even though the rain had grown heavier. A silence descended on them as they finally made it to the cover of the station platform. Sylvia had a few minutes until the last train arrived, but her patience was beginning to thin. Newt still hadn't said another word.
"And that would be...?" She said cautiously.
"I was wondering if you would be my best man." He paused. "Best woman."
For the second time, Sylvia was caught off guard. After nearly ten years of being an Auror little surprised her anymore – apart from Newt. Somehow both easy to read and impossible to understand.
"I..." Sylvia had to steady herself on a vacated bench. "Of course! I mean, I love speeches! And public dancing. And-"
"I know you hate big events," Newt said. "And small ones for that matter but I-"
"I said yes, Newt." Sylvia laughed, finding her feet again. "I've faced all manner of dark wizards, creatures and beasts. My body is seventy-percent scar at this point." She placed her hand on Newt's shoulder and he smiled at her. "I can do a wedding."
"So... you'll do it? If Tina says yes, of course." Newt seemed to grow anxious again. "Oh, dear, what if she says no? She's impossible to read, Sylvia. Do you think-"
"Without a doubt, in my mind, Newt." Sylvia comforted, giving Newt's shoulder a squeeze. "She'll say yes."
In truth, Sylvia had talked with Tina in the kitchen earlier that night – and Tina was already aware that Newt was thinking of proposing. And rather elated about it too. Sylvia had to magically silence her squeals for fear that the men would hear them in the living room. Tina was just as nervous as Newt was.
Had Newt focused for a second and realised that Tina was an Auror and her sister was a Legilimens with no vocal-filter, he may have suspected that his lover already knew.
A small silence began to descend between them. Distant sounds of the city played around them.
The train had just started to pull into the station and Newt and Sylvia shared one last hug before Sylvia said her goodbye.
"Goodbye, Newt," Sylvia said as she pulled away. "Not even death could keep me away from this blasted wedding!"
The train doors slid open and Newt chuckled at Sylvia's courage. "Really?"
Sylvia backed onto the train with a smile and a wave.
Newt opened his newspaper, his kettle boiling on the quaint stove next to him.
Though preparations for the wedding had been manic, to say the least, he still found times in the silence of the morning to read the Daily Prophet – and even though the news was rarely positive, with Gellert still at large, he enjoyed his routine.
The small kettle whistled loudly, and Newt made his way over to it, his eyes never leaving the page in front of him. This habit had caused him many an accident.
Tina made her way tiredly into the kitchen, emerald ring sitting proudly on her finger. She smiled at her fiance through her messy tresses as she sat at the kitchen table.
"Anything exciting?" Tina asked as Newt began to pour tea. Tea certainly wasn't her favourite beverage, but since being with Newt, it had begun to grow on her.
Newt's eyes flicked towards her briefly, and he smiled back. "Just the usual, I believe."
"Really?" Tina said curiously. The tone of her voice made Newt look at her fully. She nodded to the front page.
Newt raised an eyebrow and closed the paper. He read the headline out loud.
"Gellert still at large, several wizards killed." Newt hummed as he passed Tina her cup. "It seems to be the recurring story at the moment." He opened the newspaper again and returned to reading his previous article, still standing and leaning against the kitchen counter.
Tina raised her tea to her lips and agreed mentally. She eyed the large picture of Gellert in on the front page, his cold eyes-piercing as the picture moved. Being an Auror herself, she had heard of the British operation to storm Nurmengard, the prison Grindelwald had built especially for his enemies. She had also heard it was a suicide mission. Tina presumed that's what the article was about.
Sipping her tea, she scanned the page and noticed several pictures at the bottom, she presumed the deceased - their Ministry-taken photographs looking proud. They were all ages, some looking barely out of school, some the same ages and Newt and herself, and some looking as if they would like nothing better than to retire. Their full names were below their corresponding photograph. One man's name nearly took up three lines. A cold feeling settled in her stomach when she realised that could have easily been her. Or Newt.
She went to raise her tea to her lips again. The mug paused in front of her mouth.
"Newt?"
"Isn't it odd?" Newt rambled, barely aware she had spoken. "They print the Quidditch results at the back. Surely as our national sport, they should be somewhere-"
"Newt," Tina said forcefully, her voice strained.
Newt raised his eyebrows as he looked above his newspaper and at his soon-to-be wife. "Hm?"
Tina's face was white as a sheet. She pointed to the front of the paper again, her lips refusing to form words.
Nearly thirty Auror's rushed into the building, highly trained operatives with a nearly a combined total of five-hundred years of dark wizard-catching experience. Tasked with the apprehension of one Gellert Grindelwald and his associates, they spared no allowances and fought their way to the centre of the building. Their bravery and heroism would be remembered. At three o'clock that very morning, it had been reported they had failed. None of the Aurors who had entered the prison came back out. There were no survivors.
Newt's mug dropped to the floor, crashing against the tile.
At the bottom of the page, a small picture lay.
A tall, red-headed woman.
She gave a small smile to the camera, the scar on her jaw creasing slightly as she did so. The picture looped. She looked content.
"Goodbye, Newt," Sylvia said as she pulled away. "Not even death could keep me away from this blasted wedding!"
It had been one of the only lies Sylvia had ever told.