A masqueraded ball wasn’t exactly what Tina had in mind for a Saturday evening.
Or having Newt as a date, for that matter.
She couldn’t quite remember just how they ended up there. There had not been an invite. How so, when months of gathering information led to an impromptu undercover act, that might, or might not, bring them closer to traces of Grindelwald? And while she was not exactly a fan of undercover assignments, nor the concept of a ball, Theseus had claimed it their only opportunity.
Much to her dismay, they had voted Tina to go.
And to take Newt as her date.
Walking on shaky heels, Tina clustered Newt’s right arm. The fabric of his black jacket felt cold beneath her fingers as they dug deeper and deeper and deeper, leaving crescent shaped marks on his arms. The white of his cuffs mirrored that of his bow tie, neat and symmetrical as the corresponding tug straightened them once more. With his suit pants and Theseus’ polished shoes, the white gave a touch of elegance. Clarity, even.
His masque, however, neither shone nor glimmered. Dark as the night, pitched to fit effortlessly against his features, revealing nothing but the slots of his eyes and lips, the freckles in each corner laughing at her. Though the mask did not shine, it spoke volumes, which was exactly what she hoped for. It was so not-Newt, so different, that she almost grinned to herself.
Almost.
With her dress being a rather lengthy, glittering golden, they contrasted each other. Night and day. Sun and moon.
Water and fire.
Only Tina found their roles reversed. Her masque was lacy, all curves and forms, tiny across her face. It covered her eyes but nothing more. Were it not for her dress, she could have come unveiled all together. A heart shape accented her breasts, the curdle around her middle shaping her in ways she would never ever present herself as. With glitter as big as on her dress, the light reflected her, not the other way around. It was mesmerizing, dare she say even sexy, but so not her.
The floor painted their figure. A tangled mess of clinging arms and wobbly legs, descending further into the ballroom. People stared at them, though not furiously but awning.
She grabbed his arm a little tighter.
“How did we end up here again?” Newt asked, a whisper that made her shiver.
Tina shook her head. “I have no idea.”
So when the music started, and the people began to dance, it was only right to place her arm over his left shoulder, to feel his hand on her waist, and combine what was left like they had been taught.
Let’s get this party started.
——
It was a long hour of twirling, lifting, and jumping, with Newt steady at her side. Although they were not gracious dancers, it became easier to follow each other’s steps after the music changed the first time, then the second. They got used to each other’s quirks. Tina was not surprised anymore when he stepped on her foot, since it’s happened many times before, while he steadied her after falling over her own toes again. Newt’s arm tightened every now and then, his fingers around her waist addicting. She held on to him, death grip and all, not in fear he would let her fall, but in fear they would not fall together. A wish, perhaps. Hope, maybe.
It was chaotic and weird, albeit the comfort drawing over them like a coat in deep winter.
When the music slowed, he pulled her just a little closer, chest on chest, even when their breaths mixed. It shall not worry Tina, she figured, as his touch soon became a comfort she had long ago craved for. Newt’s heartbeat elevated – she felt it even through the thick cashmere of his jacket – and whether it was from dancing or their sudden closeness, she did not know. And did not care, she found out, either.
Perhaps he felt her heat running too.
“I have to say,” he muttered, his voice only a breath in her ear, “This is not the worst ball I’ve ever been on.”
Tina chuckled lightly. Her grin suppressed her active nerves.
“I take it you have experience, then?”
“My mother used to host these kinds of events when I was a teenager. It was no fun.”
She lifted her head away from his face, turning to watch him fully. Inches away from his face, Tina was entranced by the way his eyes shone in the dimmed light, and how his lips curled slightly at the memory of sneaking off from balls to attend to his nightly routine of checking in on Pickett.
“If you’d ask my brother, of course, he will tell you a different story. Always the center of attention, and always a girl on his arm. I think it’s always been pretty clear who of us liked the social bubble, and who did not.”
Though his mask covered most of his features, Tina could see beneath it. Could see the pain tried to conceal with humor, the shine in his eyes as he thought about just how painful his teenage years have been. She felt for him. “Surely me being thrown out of school did not play into my cards.”
Again, Tina chuckled. Newt twirled her once more, but soon enough, her body was right where it had to be.
“When we were younger, Queenie and I would have impromptu dances long after our parents went to bed.” Tine moved slightly in his arms, uncomfortable at the thought of times when she did not have to worry about her baby sister, where life had been better than it was now. “Now you see, I was gifted with two left feet, which also did not play into my cards well. I can’t remember a night where I did not land on the floor.”
They chuckled in union, the whispers of a similar youth so gentle, they forgot their differences.
“But Queenie, she had always been… magnificent. Graceful.” Tina’s head whipped to the right, watching the women around her in their beautiful dresses as they turned once more. They reminded her so much of her baby sister. She shook, the memory of her loss a wound point to her already fragile heart. “One could say I was jealous of her.”
She did not know what urged her to say that. Whether it was Newt’s openness, or that longing feeling within, that spoke in volumes loud enough for her head to catch on. He knew how hard it’s become to talk of Queenie, how utterly broken she was when her name entered a casual conversation. The way her face contorted in a pain not physical, yet so much worse, leaving her eyes bland and lost of their occupant. How a simple conversation with Jacob left her drained for days, with no end in sight. Because compared to him, Newt never pressured her to talk about it. About the ice-cold fire or the heartache following shortly after. He always knew when she needed company, accompanying her on walks long after the sun had set. And when she did not need company, but the freezing walls in her contemporary room to silence the pictures inside her mind, he left her there, howbeit secretly hoping that she did need him, his presence, always ready to run towards her when she needed him to. It was as if he could read her, an open book without any chains. He understood her.
She felt safe with him. She trusted him.
She wanted to reveal her secrets, for they would be safe with him.
And perhaps that was why she coaxed up one more. “I miss her.”
He pulled her closer, anxious to have offer her stability. Why, he did not know. Or maybe he did but was too afraid to admit it to himself. The sudden protectiveness taking over was a new feeling, a good feeling, he figured, as her head met his in comfort.
He understood.
“I know,” he said then, but left it at that. There was no use of empty promises. No tonight when their mission was something else. Something different.
As the music sped up, violins and horns summing a melody unbeknownst to them, he held her a little tighter, a little firmer. For her grace was what drove him, and he’d be a fool to deny himself that.
Her dress glimmered in the evening light. All golden, Tina looked like a diamond, freshly pressed to appeal, to saviour what could not be saved. She smelled like flowers and books, a combination Newt found as equally addicting as medicine. Her careless waves fell effortlessly across her shoulders. Soft. Beautiful.
It smelled as much of flowers as herself did.
He had missed her. Utterly. The days between Paris and now felt long, too long. Her grief, her terror, of a decision left irreversible, drove her to madness. She’d close herself off, disappear into corners of Hogwarts unable to find, and did not come back for several days. He bathed in their evening strolls, as he showed her around a place once considered ‘home’, yet only a faint memory in the labyrinth that made up his mind. He wanted nothing more but to rid her of the burden on her shoulders, free her of the demons in her mind. To be the strong one. For her. And while he knew Tina was strong, perfectly able to take care of herself, he found himself needy to do it for her. Her vulnerability moved the bricks in his body, the heavy ones hidden beneath layer upon layer of thick skin, that left him shivering despite the warmth. She felt like the plague, crawling under those layers, deciphering each and everyone, learning their language although the words were as foreign to her as the Kelpie himself. He felt her, her, and the wrath of her feelings alongside it all. He felt for her.
So he griefed for her, too. Newt just hoped she knew that.
“Thank you for taking me,” he whispered.
Tina lifted her head again, watching him. He seemed honest enough that it hurt.
“Newt-” she began yet stopped when she saw a glimpse of blonde hair in the corner of her eyes. She turned to get a better look and caught her standing just a few feet in front of them. The black dress around her curves fell heavenly, stopping just above her feet. Locks contured her face in an attempt to accent a beauty that could not be any more accented, with empty eyes and a gaping mouth. Queenie. Ever the most beautiful being in the room.
Panic rose in her veins.
Because Tina had seen her. And she had seen them. Or, at least, she thought she’d seen them.
With curiosity the blonde moved towards them. Slowly, yet hungrily.
They had to act. Tina knew that.
“Are your thoughts closed off?” She asked quietly, eyes big and breathing hard.
“My thoughts?”
It happened in slow motion, really. Queenie got closer before Newt could fully understand what she had asked of him, but then Tina’s scent grew stronger, and her warmth took over his every sense.
Before he knew it, Tina’s mouth was on his.
And it was like the maze in his mind has unraveled.
Her lips were soft. So, so soft. They moved uncertainly over his, the shivers possessing every inch of his suddenly tiny, frail body. Like a cloud made of cotton, he realised, that fit perfectly on his. She tasted of the bitter champagne they had drunken upon their arrival, its bubbles a lingering aftertaste even after hours of dancing.
The kiss was not harsh. It was kind and hungry, and so utterly perfect that Newt was still stunned even when they’d long parted. He breathed heavy, in and out, in and out, chest heaving and nostrils flaring.
Tina flushed when he opened his eyes again, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Her breathing was as hard as his own.
“I…” she said, eyes twisting between his and Queenies, “I panicked.”
At this Newts eyebrows shot upwards, stunned.
“I practised Occlumency a while ago, I figured you hadn’t.” Newt paused before he answered. Where had his mind gone?
“No, I did not.”
The look between them spoke of a tale buried for a thousand years. Eagerness. Understanding. For each other, for their touch, for anything that made them, them.
When they had become ‘them’ though, they did not know. An uncharted territory had been opened with their kiss, unknown territory unable to explore. As much as they thought they wanted to.
It was Newt, then, that surprised her. Or rather, stunned, really, as he moved to take both of her hands in his, fingers ice-cold.
“We have to run,” he whispered, voice straining to sound casual.
“What?”
“I see three followers coming towards us.” Tina whipped her head around, but Newt stopped her just in time. No need to gain extra attention. “Queenie isn’t part of them, I promise.”
She nodded, head dipping one time and one time only. They communicated via eyes, masks be damned, a silent plan forming between just the two of them. As if their minds connected, long ago become one, unspoken words a thread keeping them tied. Wands at the ready, she gazed at him one more time. Once, before chaos erupted.
“Now,” she said, so they were off. They ran through the mass of people, casting spells and charms to keep away from any more pain. The once silver light turned an ugly mix of green and purple, a shade so disturbing, it made them run faster. They ran and ran and ran. At once, Tina’s heels fell off, hiding in the ruins of what was once a beautiful ballroom.
It was loud. With the music stopping, the chants of their fiends only grew in sound. Screams of terror, of fright, and a little bit of fear.
Was it her own scream reflecting off the walls?
They came to a sudden halt. Just in front of them a figure appeared, the form of Grindelwald shaping the closer they got. The white of his hair seemed brighter than the last time they’ve seen him, his eyes more frightening. He grinned; yellow teeth laughing at them as they went. He turned slightly to the right. Too casual, Tina thought, too calm.
“Just who I was awaiting,” he said, posture anything but stiff.
Tina raised her wand higher, ready for combat. Newt followed shortly after. They had a mission, after all. And they were ready.
“Oh no, it is not your time to die. Not yet.” His accent was strong, his voice quiet. The grin kept spreading. “It is us, no matter how, that will lose, don’t we?”
Tina pulled at Newt before he apparated, running away just as the few followers turned up. His laugh echoed off the walls.
The harmony of spells always seemed off to Tina. A death song, really. Trained to kill. Daily. It was why she refused to mutter them, those unforgivable curses. She would not, could not, be responsible for the conscious murder of a human being. Instead, she shielded them, counter-spelling in a way that hurt but not killed. A mantra that kept her alive each day, helped her save those most dear to her.
She would not stop now.
They turned left some time later. A green light flew just past Newts face, so she conjured ‘Stupefy’, and bought them some time. Time that was desperately needed.
“We must disapparate. We cannot outrun them,” Newt screamed as another toll of wizards crowded them from the right. Together, the groups merged into one and having twelve witches and wizard breathing down their necks was really what settled the decision.
Tina looked at Newt, then, all sweaty, masked slipped minutes ago. Her hair, once cascading beautifully down her long neck, looked all frizzy now, with stray strands clinging to her forehead, others loose around her cheekbones. Dust and dirt coloured the brown a matt grey, and he wished he’d be able to run his hands through it the way he had done at the docks, when promises had not yet been broken, and the hope for a future was still in sight.
He wanted to go back there. Desperately.
Something ripped through his suit jacket, and he is reminded of the on-going fight scene in front of them.
Without another passing second, Tina mumbled. “Bombarda.”
The hallway exploded just as the group had caught up with them. Through the rumble, it was not clear how many had fallen, but sure enough, they were still on the shorter ends of winning. Someone cast ‘Stupefy’ only for Newt to hit with a bashful example of ‘Expelliarmus’, for the red mixed with the green of curses bound for his tongue to say. Tina covered him, her spells much stronger, much more efficient. He felt her wrath even with the distance between them. For the time being it was enough.
Though time was what counted.
And they had none.
Queenie appeared just at the front line. Her face guilt ridden; she observed the scene. Locking eyes first with Newt, she quickly adverted her gaze, only for her to meet Tinas pleading stare. At once, Queenie teleported back twenty years, when it was time for Tina to be sent to Ilvermorny, leaving behind a scared little girl, not to be separated from her sister's grey coat. The look Tina had given her was all the same; the question not to make this harder, that she’ll be back before Queenie could sing her favourite song. A plead to let go of her for just a moments time. Ever the older sister, Tina had only wanted to spare her from heartbreak. As she did now.
They locked eyes and understood.
For just a moment, the older Goldstein sister opened her mind.
“Please-” she thought. “Please...”
It was then that the blonde lifted her wand, ricocheting the charms and spells and curses back at the people behind her.
With the blink of an eye, Tina grabbed for Newts hand, disapparating into the night sky and vanishing from Queenies sight.
“Come with us.” Echoed through the air even minutes after they’d left.
—————-
They landed on cold grass just in front of Hogwarts.
Wetness coated Tinas dress from head to toe, rain and sweat drenching her fare skin before a sticky feeling sank in. They’d landed in dirt, lots and lots of dirt, which left her hand - albeit the darkness – an ugly brown. She sat, ignoring her hand, worrying more about what just happened before worrying about herself.
Newt lay besides her, all bedazzled and shaken. His hand still clamped hers.
His jacket was torn. A gash on his upper left arm had been bad enough to bleed, turning his black costume a darkish red. Hair disheveled, he looked just like the men from her favourite books. Buttons undone, cuffs off; had it been any other evening, she might think him sexy. Beautiful. But it wasn’t any other evening.
Having just spared death, Tina swallowed before accessing his injury.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, loud in the quiet of the night.
Her hands shivered as she removed his jacket, adrenaline still high. Bruises were already forming when Tina remembered being hit by a brick or two, yet it was nothing in comparison. She’d be fine, she told herself, tomorrow she’d be fine. A heavy sigh escaped her.
“Your shoulder…” Newt whispered, goosebumps glazing her skin. He interrupted her work to throw the shredded jacket over her. Tina stopped, eyes not leaving his wound.
“Thanks.” And she began tending to him again, tissues pressed tightly to his battered skin.
“Are you-”
“-Fine.” Though it felt like a lie as her vision clouded with unshed tears and a pain that had nothing to do with injuries. A pain that grew deeper, rooted deeply into the width of her mind and heart. A pain she’s been carrying for well over six months. “Can you lend me some light?”
He cast a quick Lumos. Her eyes shimmered.
“I can’t believe we fell for a trap as obvious as this.” The anger rising inside her had nothing to do with him, or anything with tonight. Rather, it was the betrayal from her own blood nonetheless, and the feeling of failure.
They had one job. And failed.
She pressed a little tighter on his wound and he hissed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he whispered because it really was. Well, apart from their cuts and bruises and scars. It was okay, because she was still here, alive and breathing, tending to him despite her pain, despite her furry.
Tinas gaze softened, just for a minute, and it seemed like the first time all evening he’s seen her relax into something remotely like comfort. Shoulders still stiff, he felt her anxiety spreading over, a curse that could not be broken.
He could not help it but see her beauty.
Her cheeks were still a little rosy and it gave a nice touch to her slightly pale face. The hairs which had gone loos during the fight fell forward, immersing her face in a curtain of waves that left him gasping for air. She sniffed, and it was gracious yet bland as her nose crunched, all perfect in the light of a November night. Eyes slightly closed and concentrating. She looked more like a Salamander than ever. Oh, how beautiful it was to be embraced in a beauty that was so selfless, so honest, that it made it feel like a crime to see so much.
“We need to get inside soon,” she said and it disturbed his lingering. “We need to- I need…Where’s…?”
Tina was falling. Slowly, but surely, Tina’s was falling and oh, how wonderful it’d feel to be caught right now, but she fell further, further further further until it was the ground that brought her back and and the grass that made her feel.
From a distance, she heard a commotion. Jacob. Theseus.
They were running towards them.
Could they not see that the ground had swallowed her?
—
He’d first come across the Mirror of Erised in his second year.
It stood aimlessly in the corner of a room he soon learned was The Room of Requiery, Newt remembers how he had stood in front of it for hours, smiling as he’d seen his father hug him, a Niffler chasing Bowtruckles on a landing unfamiliar to him. He wore the Griffindore scarf, for her felt if he were sorted there, then that might not make him as much a disappointment as he was always made out to be.
His hair was tidy and smooth, posture stiff but comfortable. A different version of himself.
Different and unrealistic.
But wasn’t that the point? Seeing the good version him, the right one, the one more socially accepted?
Tonight, it was not his father starring back at him. Or a scarf so unusual on him.
It was Tina.
Tina in her white blouse and black boots, hair as short as the day he’d first seen her. And she was right next to him, fingers intertwined with his. A smile, a true smile, graced her face.
And he was smiling too.
Instead of hours, Newt stood there for only a few minutes.
He’s already known what his greatest desire was. Perhaps he’s done for the better time of two years.
He left a little after eight.
—-
At nighttime, Tina found him sitting on abandoned stairs in one of Hogwarts courtyards. One of the lesser known, as he had told her weeks ago. There was moss growing on the steps, leading the way to a deserted fountain that should have lost its spark long ago, but seemed more astonishing than ever under the starry night sky. While it’s long stop firing water, crowns of the finest ice hyphenated its rims, a picture drawn to impress rather than express.
The air was too cold for November, though she did not mind. Tina had always been more drawn to the colder weather than to spring or dare say summer, finding comfort in a fuzzy blanket, a hot cup of cocoa in her hand while she read her favourite books again and again and again. Her fireplace added a nice ambience most of the time, albeit she could do without the constant crackle of burning wood. Still, Tina couldn’t complain. Most certainly not when, after hours upon hours of reading, she’d look up to find the world a powdery white.
Tina has always loved the snow.
Instead of her fuzzy blanket, Tina decided to put on a warm coat as she blindly began the search for her earlier accomplice. They were separated too quickly for her liking, the whispers of what has and had not happened a silent question in their minds. She’d just wanted a moment with him. To talk, to inspect his injuries, to be with him.
Tonight has changed something deep within her. A feeling she’s kept down far to long, suppressed by stubbornness and, perhaps, fear. A feeling – no, a sense – unnamed despite being said as often as a beating heart, or breathing lung.
The unknown feared her. More than anything, really. The baggage it carries, the anxiety of what if’s and if only’s senses she’s been dealing with since-
-since the docks. And if she were to be honest, truly and completely honest, it started long before the day she has come to hate as much as she loved.
Instead of dwelling on her thoughts any longer, Tina walked over to him, the shadow of herself hidden behind the walls of a home she needed to accept. Sitting down someplace less covered by moss and weed, she folded her hands to press between her thighs, gloves forgotten in the hassle of her room. Newt did not seem surprised to see her, a contend stare at the sky even as their shoulders touched.
“Hey,” Tina said hoarse, smiling when Newt moved to look at her.
“Hi.” His eyes twinkled with the moonlight, little stars reflecting in its shine. She smiled a little more at that.
“Looking for a quiet minute?”
“Desperately.”
They laughed in union and it’s a melody Tina never wanted to forget.
“How’s the arm?” Her eyes flickered to the point on his arm where the gash had been, now covered by gauze and his blue, frizzy coat.
“Completely new,” he looked down to meet her sight. It took her breath away. “Won’t even scar.”
“Lovely.”
A comfortable silence grew between them as they adverted their eyes to the sky, counting the stars ahead of them. Tina recalls him explaining the constellations to her before he’d left New York and huffed at the stars combining Cygnus. A swan.
How ironic.
A little further to the left, she could just about make out Cassiopeia, close to the Big Dipper. Andromeda, the most beautiful of them all, appeared a little later further to the right. Though she did not know their meaning, nor their interpretation, Tina found them to be spectacular.
It was Newt who broke the silence a minute or two later. “Are you alright?”
“I think I can handle the bruised elbow for now, thank you very much.” It was an empty attempt at joking, but Newt saw through her facades, behind all the masks and those stubborn thoughts. His face softened to look at her more thoroughly.
“Tina…” he said, and she understood. She understood before he even had said it.
“I know.” She felt belittled, somehow, with the way his eyebrows furrowed, and lips narrowed. The lines on his forehead showed his worry.
“I think… I think I will be alright,” her voice was uncommonly stable as she replied, the usual feeling of a tight throat or quivering lip nowhere to be seen. She did feel alright, utterly and truly alright. Newts' eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I mean it. I- Seeing her tonight, it’s brought me peace. Knowing that she is up and healthy, it lessens the sting of her loss.”
Taking a deep breath, Tina prepared to open her mind for the second time this evening.
“I hate her decision. I hate everything about it. I hate that she feels like she could not talk to me, and that she wasn’t understood by the people most dear to her. I hated to see her cross the ring, to see her disapparate into nothingness, a place where I could not find her. Help her.” Another breath, a shudder, and she’s able to speak the truth. “But I guess as much as I hate her decision, I do not hate her. My love for her is stronger than that.”
She wiped invisible dirt off her coat, afraid to look at Newt. Tina coughed.
“I know it’s weird, but-”
“I think it’s beautiful.” It is only then that she allowed herself to look up, finding his line of view stuck on her face. He grinned the slightest way, perfect dimples illuminating the darkness surrounding them, and breathed a sight of relief.
Newt never lied. And Tina knew this.
She smiled back at him, head falling a little to the left. Above her, Cygnus waved his wings. Tina turned away, then, eyes meeting the sky in a desired dream. If only the stars could talk back to her, the way her childhood self had always dreamed about. Perhaps they could untie the knot in her brain, unravel feelings she never knew she was able to feel.
Perhaps they could bring Queenie back.
Perhaps.
She felt Newts eyes on her still, but that did not stop her from concentrating on the whole that was the night sky. She felt contend, sitting here with him, gazing at the stars while the tremors of an ongoing war did not urge her. It was the beauty of constellations that left her mesmerised, left her to surrender despite her strength.
Tonight, she thought, I do not have to be strong.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and he agreed, though he was gazing at her rather than the stars. The prettiest of constellations sat just an inch away form him.
Newt’s thinking back to the Mirror of Erised, to the way her hand fit perfectly into his, and to the way her head fit right into the sleeve of his neck. The way it all felt so natural. So right.
So perfect.
It was then that Newt made his decision.
Standing up, suddenly, he offered her his left hand. “It’s a shame we never got to finish our dance, Miss Goldstein.”
She looked bedazzled and a little starstruck, the wind disturbing her hair. She moved to wipe away the loose strands, and Newt so wished he were able to do it for her.
“Would you do me the honor?”
She smiled, all white teeth and glistening eyes decision made. “I’d love to, Mister Scamander.”
And so, she took his hand, standing up without much force. He pulled her a little further to the fountain, stopping when they’d reached just the middle of the courtyard. Newts other hand curled around Tinas waist, just as he’d done mere hours ago. She threw her arm over his shoulder again, and it was like they’ve never been separated. He led, and she followed.
There was no music. No dresses or suits. No masks. No people.
It was just them, in their coats and scarves, fingertips cold from the chilly air. They’d dance to the sound of trees bristling and leaves falling. To crying wolves and birds, to the sound of gravel beneath their shoes.
It was enough.
It was enough.
Their breaths mixed when Newt spun her around. Another step, and she was laughing. When she’d accidentally step on his foot, he’s laughing too. His head would bump into her every-so-often, but she’d shrug it off, instead laying her head comfortably in the place between his shoulders and neck. Somewhen, their joined hands fell to Newts chest, his heartbeat keeping them in an upturned rhythm. They slowed down just a bit afterwards, hips swaying in the comfort of a starry night. It was the moon and them. The stars as companions, and the wind as ease.
It was enough.
“Tina?” Newts asked, and Tina was almost mad at the disturbance.
“Hm?” she answered, eyelids closed.
Newt took a breath, his heartbeat rising. “Why did you kiss me?”
A record scratch. A heavy breath.
Tina’s nose was now touching his.
“I panicked?” Her eyebrows furrowed the way his had done half an hour before, though it was not due to confusion, but due to the fear of being caught.
He did not say anything back. Somehow, Tina felt as if she had to explain herself, her actions.
Not that she regretted it.
“I… I- I thought kissing you would, you know, distract you from thinking.”
You did, he thought.
Because Newt was not able to form another plausible thought ever since.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“- I liked it.” And his admission stunned her as much as it did him.
He felt like he’d been underwater for an eternity, with no way out. A lifetime of breaking rules that should not be rules, of fighting against a force much bigger than him. Pulling and pulling, deeper into a bottomless ocean made of false hopes and helpless dreams.
Her kiss had been a lifeline. An escape. The route to a heart unknown to him, yet so clear in sight. His body had tingled, all shivers and stuff, and for a while, Newt thought nothing would make it stop. An itch unable to reach.
Before her, Newt felt like a captured animal.
She had freed him of his enclosure.
“You did?” Tina whispered.
“Yes,” he replied, eyes clear. He was saying the truth and nothing but, for he was tired of lying to himself. To her. To them. “And I like you. A lot, actually.”
The dam broke then, as Tinas face softened. She lay her hand free on his chest, a strong heartbeat under her gold fingers. It was enough. It’s been a night of confessions, after all. “I like you a lot, too.”
He relaxed before closing the gap between them, lips finding hers in a maze always straight forward.
Tina’s lips were still soft, the taste of champagne lingering on her lips after all.
The kiss did not feel like fireworks exploding. Or wind stopping.
The kiss felt like complete and utter ease. A break in the upcoming war. A breeze of fresh air. A comfortable gust of wind in extreme summer heat.
The kiss felt like everything good had come together for them to feel. To heal. As one, as a couple, as two people finally conjuring. As two sides of the same coin.
They did not haste. Newt savored on the sense of her lips on his, ever so soft as their breaths mingled. Tina, for all the pain she’s endured, kissed him as if the world were ending, though sweet as sugar while her hands grasped the collar of his coat. Had she not been falling a minute ago? Falling into the depth of an earth that would not seem to end?
Oh, how great it felt to be caught.
In such a lovely way.
They gasped for air when parting and looked sheepishly at one another. A blush arose, yet Tina could not say whose it was, where it began or where it ended. She did not know whose grin was wider, whose eyes were brighter. Who grasped tighter.
What she did know was, that it was only the beginning.
For Tina knew the feeling of an end, how devastating it could be. When the mere feeling tore you apart in a way indescribable und so deeply, so endlessly, painful.
Tina felt it in the way his fingers coiled around her cheek, how his grip around her waist loosened then fastened. It was in the way he breathed once, then twice, but not a third time, for he smiled and did not wait to breathe. She felt it in the way he moved closer again, running his tongue over his lips and reveled in the taste of her.
No, this was not an end. It was the beginning of something bigger.
Bigger than them.
When something wet landed on her cheeks, Tina looked up. “It’s snowing.”
And Newt looked up, too, calm in his gestures. “It is beautiful.”
“It is,” she whispered, contend.
In the middle of a night so precious to them, Newt kissed her again. And again. Again and again and again until the snow had long settled, the trees had long slept and even the wolves quieted.
In the middle of the night, Newt and Tina stood there without a care in the world, together.
Finally together.