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Tina was mad. She was also sick. A mad and sick Tina was not a good combination. For the first time in their marriage Newt felt way over his head.
She wore her emotions like others wore shirts, and it wasn’t unusual for him to find her stomping round the house dressed in a storm cloud. But Newt always thought he was pretty good at riding out the storm. He’d bring Tina a cup of coffee, and offer to rub her tense shoulders. He’d listen to her rants from their sofa, a small smile on his face as she huffed and puffed out all her frustration. And eventually the clouds would part and the sun would come out.
Newt would yawn down the stairs to find Tina boiling the kettle, and flipping eggs. She’d rooster herself on for a week of early feeds, letting Newt have a rare lie in. He’d walk into the basement to find a dirt streaked Tina, with straw in her hair, surrounded by a cascade of well-fed creatures, with such a luminescent grin on her face; Newt always had to kiss her. And she’d eventually collapse onto the couch with a thump, burying her face into his neck and they’d snuggle until they fell asleep.
But this time. This time was different. Newt found himself avoiding his wife on the stairwell, to escape from her constant frown and crabby mood. Most of their conversations this week had been monosyllabic and Theseus had informed him, that even at work Tina was a sullen wreck; hardly doing paperwork and never smiling.
At first Newt had thought it was because of her stomach bug. Tina prides herself on never getting ill. He personally had gotten the flu about five times in their soon to be one-year marriage. All of their late nights working, and various infected bites never seemed to wash over him as they did her. Tina had spent many an evening curled up at his bedside reading Newt his favourite novels. Lovingly placing cool towels on his forehead, and generally refusing to let him lift a finger.
Tina however, throughout all the time they’ve know each other- five years now- has only gotten sick once. And even then, it was only a head cold. But recently, every morning, Newt’s awoken to the dull sound of vomit hitting a toilet bowel and found Tina hopelessly holding onto the sterile white rim as her body heaved. And every morning Newt would rub her back gently until her retches subsided. At the beginning of the illness, she would give him a weak smile, and quickly rose to brush her teeth so she could kiss him sweetly in thanks. But for the past five days, Tina has barely managed a terse nod in Newt’s direction, before rinsing her mouth and briskly leaving an awkward Newt kneeling on the floor.
Newt stretches out on the couch, rubbing his knees anxiously. That alone would’ve been enough to justify the hurt pit in the depths of his stomach. But combined with her weary declines of any massages he has gingerly offered and the stone cold cup of coffee she left on the kitchen table two mornings ago, though she never leaves for work without her fix; Newt is beginning to feel the first pangs on worry for his wife. Something is clearly wrong with Tina, and more than just bitterness at her immune system.
‘And,’ Newt thinks straightening his shoulders at the squeaky sound of the front door opening, ‘I’m going to get an answer tonight,’. His bravado raises half-heartedly as Tina sweeps into their lounge room, drooping her coat harshly over a hook. ‘I want to help her’ he repeats over and over in his mind, ‘she’s hurting and I want know why, so I can help her,’
“Tina?” he asks tentatively, his voice softly breaking the rooms silence.
She jumps a foot in the air, spinning around, one hand on her heart. She takes a shuddering breath, before giving him a dark stare.
“You almost gave me a heart attack,” she scolds, brushing down her pants. Her skin is pale, almost clammy, a few stray strands of hair stick to her forehead. Newt watches, concern washing over him as she lumbers closer to the couch, her footfalls heavy, her toes dragging on the ground.
“Sorry,” Newt says quickly, and Tina inclines her head, a tiny, forgiving smile playing round her lips.
Feeling a smidge more confident, he holds out a hand to her, and swinging her left hand behind her back Tina takes it. Her hand is shaking slightly, but she still wraps their fingers together, and smiles lovingly as he rubs his thumb across the back of her hand. Tina gives a shaky laugh, a melodious sound that’s been missing from the house for far too long. She’s bitten her fingernails down to the quick. Newt’s smile fades, and he lightly presses his lips to her hand.
“Tina, love,” he clenches his jaw, staring up at her imploringly, “please tell me what’s wrong,”
Her smile disappears in a pop, and her hand becomes limp in his own. Newt can almost see the mask settle itself back on her face.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Tina says coolly, her mouth set in a firm line. She tries to wriggle her hand out of his grip, but Newt resolutely hangs on, refusing to let her go.
“Something clearly is,” Newt’s anxiously smiling; a smile that tugs hi nerves, not his cheeks.
“And I just thought,” he gestures round the clear space in front of him, where there’s almost an indentation in the carpet from her pacing, “perhaps you could talk to me about it?”
Tina’s throat bobs.
“I don’t think I can,” She replies faintly. Newt can practically see the cogs turning behind her eyes with all the things she wants to say.
“You can tell me,” Newt urges her quickly, trying to sound positive, not quietly desperate, “You can Tina, always,” Tina looks up at him, her eyelashes fluttering. Her mouth opens slightly, and Newt can see a flash of white teeth. Her eyes shine, and she bobs her head and for a moment, just a moment, he thinks she’s going to tell him.
“No,” Tina turns away, her hair a dark curtain hiding whatever expression her face is displaying, “I can’t” She squeezes her hand out of Newt’s own, before practically leaping up the stairs. She doesn’t look back. Newt’s left alone in their living room, feeling rather lost. Two cups of hot coffee sit on the side table slowly turning tepid. He brewed it for her; in all their years of marriage he’s never developed a taste for it.
Tina sweeps out the door early for work the next day, with a whoosh of coat and a curt farewell. Newt sips his tea, pretending her self-assigned silence isn’t cutting him to the core. He performs his morning work with an uncharacteristic bluntness, even going so far to snap at Bunty harshly for forgetting a task. Newt, uncomfortable in regret, quickly gives his teary assistant the rest of the day off, before gloomily making his way over to Jacob’s bakery. The muggle never fails to cheer him up, and Jacob quickly sits him down with a cup of hot cocoa, his favourite niffler shaped treat and a sympathetic ear.
“I just don’t know why she just can’t tell me what’s wrong,” Newt stares depressingly down at the dregs in his cup. The sticky dark blobs stuck to the bottom of the ceramics have never looked so relatable to him. Jacob makes an short understanding sound, pushing another pastry towards him.
“She’s a closed up clam, your Tina, especially when she's upset,” He sighs, shaking his head, “Remember in Paris, she never let you get a word in,” Newt manages a small smile at the memory.
“It did take me a while to explain everything, didn’t it,” He admits, twirling the sticky, sugary pastry round in his fingertips. He doesn’t actually want to eat it; even the cocoa tasted more like sludge than the normally relaxing chocolate drink he knows and loves.
“Exactly,” Jacob smiles encouragingly, “This time won’t be any different, just do that ‘Salamander’ thing, and you’ll be fine,”
‘Except last time, you were the one who needed to explain, now it’s Tina’ A voice in his mind slouches, pessimistically. Newt tries his best to brush it away, and is mostly successful. It’s hard to feel too down when a friend believes in you.
“Perhaps I should go in to the ministry,” Newt pipes up, nervously optimistic, “If I surprise her, show my support, then maybe…” Jacob slaps his hand hard on the table, in clear agreement.
“That’s the spirit,” He agrees enthusiastically, “run after her!”
Newt can’t help but feel equally pumped at the American’s zeal. He stands, suddenly much more enthused, his case swinging jovially in his grip.
“Could I take her a pastry perhaps?” Newt asks Jacob happily, “Her favourite?” Tina loves Jacob’s cinnamon buns. When they come for a visit, she always ends up eating at least four and leaves with a sugar moustache that he then does his best to lick off. They’re not Newt’s favourite, the scent of spice is always a bit too strong for him. But Tina adores them, and often takes one for lunch.
“Of course,” Jacob agrees immediately, “whatever you need,” He walks briskly behind the counter to place a treat in a brown paper back, twirling the edges with professional ease. Newt takes it carefully, not wanting to squish it. He’s about to say his farewells when he notices a distinct lack of scent seeping out from the package. He takes a quick peek. It’s not a cinnamon bun. It’s a piece of what looks like a squishy loaf of something or other.
“This isn’t Tina’s favourite,” Newt moves to pass back the bag. Jacob grimaces, pushing it back into his grasp.
“Yes it is,” Newt stares blankly at him, and Jacob shrugs looking awkward.
“For the last month or so that’s what she’s been getting,” Jacob informs him, for the first time sounding unsure, “One slice of banana bread, every morning, she didn’t tell you?”
“No,” Newt says quietly, his hand suddenly sweaty. He holds the bag so tightly, he’s afraid the paper will rip, “No, she didn’t,”
Newt surveys the auror office, the paper bag with Tina’s banana bread held tight in his right hand, his case in his left. Tina and he share a loving kiss in the framed moving picture that anoints her empty desk. Tina in the picture beams and waves at him as he passes. Newt smiles longingly as she leans into picture hims side, before pushing into Theseus’s office.
Theseus and Yusuf both turn as the door creaks open. Newt leans against the door frame as they finish off the last bit of their clearly very important conversation in a rushed manner.
“Do you two know where Tina is?” Newt asks, lightly curious. She usually joins them for these sorts of meetings. But perhaps she’s got an assignment today, or is in the bathroom. Theseus crinkles his brow.
“She called in sick today,” His brother informs him in an obvious manner, crossing his arms over his chest in concerned elder brother mode, “Isn’t she home with you?” His question is posed in the pitch of a person who already knows the answer, but is still trying to be sympathetic. Newt’s jaw drops, his anxiety increasing a-thousand fold. His pulse stutters, and a hard stone of fear sticks in his throat. Pickett chirps consolingly, his little leafy hand reaching up to pat his throat. Newt forces his mouth into a smile.
“Right, of course,” He tries for calm ease, but his attempt feels weak even to his own ears. He doesn’t need Theseus’s understanding head tilt, not at all, “She probably just popped out for a moment,”
Newt slithers of the auror offices, his head bowed, his mind a swirly mess. He carefully tucks Tina’s present into one of the many pockets in his coat, too upset to see it.
“Newt,” A voice calls out urgently. Newt shuts his eyes, wishing he was a rude enough a person to apparate. If he didn’t know the voice, he probably would have. Instead he fixes the smile back on his face, and turns to meet Yusuf, who jogs up to meet him.
“Hello Yusuf,” Newt says, hefting his case to a more comfortable position. Yusuf ignores his greeting easily, leaning close as if to share secret.
“Newt listen,” He whispers quickly, “I don’t know what Tina told Theseus, or you, but she’s not sick, she’s at our place,” Newt leans back, taking in the French man’s expression. There’s nothing but honestly in his eyes.
“What?” Newt stutters, slightly desperately, “why?” Yusuf shrugs.
“I don’t know, honestly, she wanted to talk to Nagini,” Yusuf pats him on the shoulder, “Something about letting out her skirts, but she’s fine, Newt, I promise,” He smiles as if he’s solved all of Newt’s problems.
Newt smiles as if he has too. But he hasn’t. In fact Yusuf just doubled them. What could Tina have to talk to Nagini about, that she couldn’t at least explain to him? I mean they are friends of course, perhaps the maledictus was even Tina’s best female friend. But Newt is her husband! Surely she could also talk to him about her problems. He wants to hear about her problems. Merlin, right now he needs to hear about her problems, in case his blood pressure explodes.
His walk home is a blur, his mind spiralling down into a deeper and darker hole. Why couldn’t Tina tell him? Why did she lie to Theseus? What was so precious that to her that would make Tina this upset, but was something she could only gift Nagini’s ears, but not his own.
Their apartment has never felt so empty before. Normally their combined smell makes him smile. Today it just makes him grimace, and rather sad. Eager for an escape, Newt tiredly makes his way down into his basement, his feet dragging on the stairs.
Dougal is there immediately to greet him. His milky eyes keep flashing blue, so continuously that it makes him look like a bizarre kaleidoscope. He tugs hard at the end of Newt’s coat, causing the magizoologist’s knees to buckle. Newt's estranged mind immediately flits to worst scenario. What has happened to the man who believed worrying makes you suffer twice? He puts his case down with a sharp bang.
“Show me,” Newt tells the creature. Dougal nods in affirmative, pulling him so quickly through the habitats that Newt doesn’t even notice Tina's grey coat hanging up on a spare hook. Newt’s eyes are wary for signs of upset, but his hospital seems strangely problem free. Beasts chirp and roar out to him cheerfully as they pass.
Dougal, who would normally also greet the creatures, storms past them, intent on his destination. Newt becomes more and more curious as they fly past practically every animal they see, till finally reaching the dregs of the basement, where unused habitats, broken tools and bags of feed live.
“Why have you brought me here?” Newt turns Dougal, confused at the creature’s stubborn insistence that he observes boxes of mooncalve pellets.
Dougal points. And there she is. Tina. Crouched in a corner and sobbing her eyes out. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, and she’s not even bothering to hide the sounds of misery escaping her lips, or wipe the tears dribbling down her cheeks. Newt watches, horror struck, as the love of his life explodes with pain.
“Love,” he whispers, rushing over to her, and gathering her in his arms.
Tina flops in them pathetically, hyperventilating into his neck. Newt rocks her gently, back and forth as she cries, kissing her hair protectively.
“I’m so sorry,” she moans, clenching her fists in which what must be to the point of pain, “I’m terrible, I’m such a horrible person, a horrible wife,”
“I’ve never heard anything so stupid,” Newt scolds her gently, tucking a piece of her hair lovingly behind her ear.
“You haven’t heard what I have to tell you,” Tina wipes her eyes on his collar, looking utterly defeated. Her dark lipstick is smudged all over her mouth, looking like an absurd bruise. Her mascara has also run and black smudges are mushed under her eyes. Newt smiles. She’s never looked so beautiful.
“Then tell me,” he nudges his nose into her forehead, and she gives a choked sniff.
She goes silent for a second, but Newt waits patiently, as her breaths become more even, and her tears begin dry.
“I lost my ring,” Tina admits quietly, “my wedding ring, I lost it,”
Newt raises his eyebrows, waiting for the next explanation. That in doing so she got hurt in the line of duty. That she’s contracted dragon pox and is desperately ill. That her purse was stolen and she had to sell the ring to pay for something incredibly serious and very important. He threads his ring-less right hand between her ring-less left one.
“And?” He prompts her carefully, not wanting to once again wake the dragon. Tina lets out another defeated cry and throws up her hands. Their entwined ones flop down with a hard crack on her knees and she lets out a tired whine.
“It was your grandmothers ring Newt, and I lost it,” Tina leans her head against his shoulder, her hair tickling his collar bone, “I don’t even know where; it could be down the sink for all I know,” Newt presses a comforting kiss to her forehead. Her skin is sticky against his lips.
“It’s probably with the Nifflers, you know that right?” He smiles reassuringly, and slightly knowingly. Little buggers- can’t keep their paws off anything shiny. Tina’s lips quirk up a little, but the tiny furrow between her eyes stays. In fact, it grows larger as he stares, one anxious crevice deepening across her brow. She drops her gaze to her lap, her hand between his uncomfortably sweaty. Newt’s smile drops to his toes.
“Tina, please tell me what’s really wrong,” He asks her softly, pulling their enclosed hands against his chest. She bites her lip, un-bites it, sniffs, rubs her nose with the back of her hand, and bites her lip again.
“I’m pregnant,” Tina says like a burst of wind. Newt’s cheeks blow back at the whiplash. The words are so fast that he even nods for a second, before his mind finally catches up with her.
“What?” Newt croaks, his throat suddenly bone dry. Tina hiccups.
“I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant and I can’t even keep a bloody ring on my finger,” Her nails are scratching so harshly into his skin, Newt knows they’re going to leave ugly marks, like cracks in a chalkboard,” How am I supposed to be a good mother if I can’t even keep the symbol of our marriage safe?”
Newt swallows, trying to get rid of the tremendous feeling on his tongue.
Tina is sitting cross-legged. She’s dressed in a white blouse with bell-liked sleeves, complete with a long mustard skirt that sits high on her stomach. Newt ducks his head down until his eye line is in line with her abdomen. There’s a slight raise poking out of her thin frame, that could probably only be noticed if one was this close. Or if her skirt was a bit tighter. Newt’s fingers flit out carefully to skim the sides of her waist. Tina takes a trembling breath as he fans his hand over her stomach. Yes, there’s no denying it. Newt’s palm caresses a tiny bump. A silly grin spreads out on his face, pulling hard at his cheeks. His own eyes begins to tear up, tiny drops of happiness seeping out of him.
“How?” He chokes out, much too emotional to speak properly. His lips feel like loose rubber, and just like his emotions, they’re wobbling. Tina barely seems to notice his glee, and her words spit out like a coffee filled author; buzzed and typing fast paced.
“I missed my time about two months ago, but it happens sometimes, when I'm stressed,” Tina plays nervously with her skirt, threading it in and out of her fingers,” But then I kept getting sick and one morning Jacob’s cinnamon buns caused my stomach to turn,” She shakes her head.
“So booked a healer appointment, and I’m about 12 weeks along,” Tina tells him shakily, “Or 13 weeks now I suppose,” Newt quickly does the math in his head. 13 weeks. That’s almost three months. His wife is three months pregnant. Excited static pumps against his chest.
“Oh Merlin, Tina,” He cups her cheeks carefully, peppering her forehead with sloppy kisses, “Do you have any idea how happy you’ve just made me?” Tina laughs nervously, as his lips nudge hers and they share a sweet kiss. Her fingers dive into this hair, and Newt sighs at her embrace. God, he’s missed her.
“Really? You’re happy?” Tina asks faintly, as they part.
“Of course!” Newt grins sweeping her up in a massive hug, she truly smiles then, clinging onto him like he’s her lifeline. Her hysterical words come back to him all in a rush, and he leans back, once again concerned for her.
“But are you happy Tina?” He asks, suddenly worried. Tina’s dimples falter a little.
“When they told me, I couldn’t stop smiling, and the first thing I remember thinking is 'I can’t wait to tell my husband',” Tina leans her forehead up against his own, and Newt leans back, his hands wrapped round her hips. He can’t stop touching the bump. That’s their baby under there, his brilliant wife is creating a whole little person.
“But then,” Her voice sounds wan again, and Newt kisses her cheek reassuringly, “They brought this woman in, she talked positively about support systems and family contacts, and it took me a while, but I finally realised they thought I was a single woman because I wasn’t wearing my ring,”
“Why did that make you turn into a dragon for a week, love?” Newt asks her lovingly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Tina’s lips wobble then she buries her head in her hands.
“I don’t know,” She complains through her finger tips, “I just felt, in that moment, that I might be a terrible mother; mother’s don’t lose things do they? They find things. My Mama always knew exactly where everything was, and she never, ever, took her ring off,” She wipes her eye gently. Newt pulls her against his chest.
"I know it's stupid," Tina sniffs in a tiny voice, "But the feeling lingered; that I'm going to be a terrible mum,"
“Porpentina Scamander,” Newt tucks a finger under her chin, forcing her look at him. Her eyes are large and woeful, “You will not be a terrible mother, you are the kindest, most loving, most terrific witch I’ve ever known; even if you can never find anything again for the rest of your life, I know you're going to be the best mother in the world”
“Do you really think so?” Tina asks him timidly. Newt kisses her firmly as an answer.
Eventually they come to. Newt is hovering over her, and Tina is rested firmly against the basements floorboards. She’s smiling in a dazed sort of manner. Newt grins impishly, wiggling himself down to her body, till he's nose to nose with her stomach. He kisses it tenderly
“Hello in there,” Newt greets the bump softly, “I’m your father,”
“Newt,” Tina murmur tearfully. He looks up, to find her staring down at him, her eyes dark and sparkling. There she is. There’s his Tina.
“Your mother gets worried about silly things sometimes,” Newt tells his unborn child cheekily, and Tina swats his head playfully, “So you have to make sure to look after her, alright?”
“Mercy Lewis, Newt,” She exclaims, pulling so tightly on his hair, that Newt’s scalp strains at the pull. He looks up immediately worried, as her hands too fall down to cup her stomach.
“What?” He asks immediately, moving his weight of her, “Does it hurt? Is something wrong? Should I get a healer?” Tina’s smile is like a sunset- warm and beautiful.
“I felt them, the first time,” She bites her lip in pure joy, pressing his own hand to her stomach, over a certain spot carefully, “A flutter- oh god Newt, it’s our baby,”
Newt lets out a breath of laughter, burying his head into her collar bone. He kisses a line up her neck, his eyes wet.
“I love you,” He cries out passionately, “I love you Tina, I love you both so much,”
“I love you too,” Tina sniffs, sounding equally emotional, “I sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was just so afraid,”
“You don’t need to be afraid anymore,” Newt tells her reverently, “Because a ring of metal isn’t the symbol of our marriage, this is,” His thumb moves in soft circles around her small bump.
“This tiny little miracle, that we made together,” Newt murmurs thickly, “We’re going to be parents Tina,”
“Yes,” Tina beams up at him, wrapping her arms around her neck bringing him closer, “Yes we are,” She kisses him fiercely, and Newt hums pulling her closer wishing to share her skin. He leans down and rucks up her skirt.
“Newt,” Tina laughs breathlessly, as he struggles with the buttons on her shirt, “What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m making love to the mother of my child,” Newt explains airily, nosing her cheek lovingly, “I haven’t done so in a week you see, and that’s just far too long ,”
“Oh it is, is it?” Tina asks coyly, her fingers dragging off his coat with practiced ease.
“You know it is love,” Newt growls impatiently, and Tina’s delighted laugh gets smudged with his kiss.