Prologue
The first time he met her was in a pub in Switzerland.
Newt Scamander still remembers the stench of alcohol, and the muffled sounds thanks to the silencing charm he always placed in crowded places. He remembered John Perks bragging about a bear he had wrestled and he remembered exchanging exasperated looks with Violet Prescot.
Andrew Miller had already passed out because of drinking and the lack of sleep they were all running on. It was their last night out before his death.
That’s where Newt saw her. He was tipsy on butterbeer and had laughed a little too loud and John had said “No it’s true!” and Newt had laughed again.
Something had made his head turn, maybe it was the fight that had started in the middle or maybe he had felt eyes on him. That’s when a pair of hazel eyes met with a pair of grey.
She was sitting with whom he would later discover to be her sister. Her hair was in a half-updo, the kind school girls used to wear but she wasn’t a school girl, she was the same age as him in the year 1917.
Their eyes met and looked away as quick as lightning. Newt had felt blood rushing to his face. Suddenly John's words and Violet’s laughter became as muffled as the world outside the little bubble of the silencing charm.
Their eyes had met again when Newt had looked to check if she was still looking. He turned and permanently turned his gaze to his almost empty cup of butterbeer. He took Andrew’s glass of firewhiskey and drank the remainder of it. Then he asked for a little more.
Newt had always been lightweight and that night he wasn’t planning on getting drunk. So obviously this had been a mistake. He didn’t get to talk to her that night.
Years later he would wonder if he had talked to her that night, when passions and feelings were running high. He probably would have declined her because even in that state he would have known it wasn’t fair on her when he was in love with the man whose firewhisky he had stolen.
Maybe then she would have accepted it and they would have never seen each other again. There was something quite embarrassing about being rejected when emotions were on the edge of spilling.
The next evening they had run into each other again in a park, this was where everything had changed, if they hadn’t reunited there then he probably would have forgotten about her. Everyone else had gone to a movie, Newt hadn’t been in the mood, that’s why he had gone out to walk. But years later he will wish he had.
“I saw you,” she had said abruptly, her cheeks turning a soft pink whether from the cold or embarrassment, he never found out. “In the pub.” She had an English accent.
Newt had been too startled, and too unprepared “I saw you too.” He had said.
They stayed silent, Newt had been going through all the things he knew about etiquette but he didn't need to because she had asked. “What’s your name?”
“Newt,” he had paused and said as an afterthought “Scamander. Yours?”
“Blossom Richardson.” she had smiled and Newt had found her adorable back then. Years later the memory of this encounter would leave a bitter taste in his mouth as he sorted out his son’s sunday’s best.
They had talked for an hour before Blossom remembered she had to head back before dark. Later that night Newt realised he hadn’t asked her about where she was staying or when she would like to meet again when she so clearly implied it after Violet chastised him about it.
Newt had felt disappointed at that, thinking that this is where their story had ended. And years later he would wish that it had been true, as he looked at the knife in his hand.