Welcome, welcome! I hope you enjoy the following story. Leve me a review and let me know what you think.

And, obviously, I don't own anything related to Harry Potter or Fantastic Beasts. This is all because I had the urge to borrow the characters for a bit.


Chapter One

For every new experience, he used the short, but definitive list of items to consider. He'd never actually written it down, but for the last twelve years, he'd found it extremely useful for each and every situation; after all, he was a scientist. And it had worked well, with one major exception.

Six months ago, he'd made his trip to New York. All he'd really gone for was to take one of his creatures back to its home and he'd wound up with a lot more than he'd bargained for. He'd made so many memories on that trip, but one particular thing…well, person…stuck out in his mind. Now every minute of every day since he'd boarded the ship back to England, that one person was always in his thoughts.

Tina Goldstein.

In the six months since he'd returned home, he'd finished his manuscript, but as he'd worked, he had discovered that even the tiniest detail would remind him of that woman.

Newt Scamander had begun at least two dozen letters to Tina, but that's all they'd been: the beginnings of a letter. So much he'd wanted to include, but in reality he'd found he very much only wanted to tell her these things in person.

He'd just attempted the 25th letter, and crumpled the parchment and tossed it to the ground. Dougal, the demiguise patted him on the shoulder to comfort him.

"Thank you, Dougal," he said in a quiet voice.

Dougal nodded in a friendly manner and pushed the silver frame holding the image of Leta Lestrange further back. It had already been set face down on the potting shed's table and now it was virtually out of sight entirely.

Picket climbed out of his shirt pocket and looked at his friend carefully. He squeaked angrily at his friend.

"I know, Picket, I know. I miss her, too. I just don't know what to say," Newt told the small bowtruckle.

The creature continued to admonish him in the high-pitched squeak.

"That's enough," Newt said softly with a small smile. "The book is complete now. And I promised I would deliver her the copy personally. I do intend to do it."

The bowtruckle replied again, his leafy hands on his hips.

"No, I have not told her that it was done," Newt told the creature. "And I don't need to explain my reasons to you."

The bowtruckle stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry at Newt and what he'd said.

"You can do that til you're blue in the face, which would be foreverlong, Picket, but I'm going to move at my own pace."

Picket rolled his tiny eyes.

"That's terribly mature my little friend," he smiled.

The bowtruckle shrugged his shoulders and then moved over to the quill that Newt had just set aside.

"I have tried, Picket. I just – don't know what to say. I don't know if she'll even care anymore," Newt said.

This time Picket was silent.

"I know, I won't know until I reach out. But she hasn't sent any owls this way either," Newt told him.

More silence came from the bowtruckle.

Newt let out a long sigh. "You're in quite the mood tonight, Picket, aren't you?"

Still nothing from Picket.

"Would you care to write her, then?" Newt asked. "I'll be happy to transcribe for you," he chuckled as he took the quill from the creature.

This time Picket answered his human friend.

"Now, now, that is rude; where did you learn words like that?" Newt said. "I was just poking fun. I'm going to start getting my things in order for my next trip to New York. And yes, against my better judgement in light of current attitude, you will be coming along. After all, if she doesn't wish to see me after all this time, she'll at least want to see you."

That was his greatest fear now. He'd spent so much time putting all the finishing touches to his manuscript that the time had gotten away from him. Now he procrastinated on writing her out of the sheer and simple embarrassment that she'd likely gone back to her normal life and work and forgotten him.

He looked over at the advance copy he'd received just two days prior. It was propped up where the photo of Leta used to sit. Hard bound in the red leather he'd chosen and the titles shone in gold that someone at the publishing house suggested; it was a sight to behold for certain.

It still felt surreal, to see how his notes had come together and were now bound into an actual book. So many years of work that culminated in his one-of-a-kind collection of magical creatures and this book. Despite the ache he couldn't quite decide upon, he felt full of pride at his work.

Dougal, at Newt's left elbow, pushed a piece of parchment in front of him.

"I will do this," he pointed to the parchment. "But it's late," he said, feigning a yawn for his creatures. "So I think we should all turn in and…"

Both the creatures folded their arms and Picket tapped his leafy foot impatiently.

"Oh, very well," Newt sighed. He knew he wouldn't win this argument, despite the fact that it was with a bowtruckle that usually lived in his pocket. He nodded assuredly and picked up the quill. He dipped it in ink and began to fill the parchment with everything he'd meant to say so many moons ago.

He'd fallen asleep writing that letter, and as he groggily awoke from the uncomfortable position of sitting at the desk in the potting shed, he'd decided he'd re-write a letter – a shorter, less detailed one and send it off to Tina. But as he stood to stretch his contorted body and realized the letter was gone.

"Picket!" he shouted as he searched his pockets. "This isn't funny!"

"Queenie, you have to leave Jacob be," Tina Goldstein admonished her sister. "I know that you've been going down to that bakery. He doesn't remember you. He can't…"

"Teenie, I don't go inside. I just walk by…of course I know I can't go in and see him. And no, I don't do any kind of magic for him. Newt did enough…" Queenie stopped when she saw the look on her older sister's face.

Without Queenie or Tina saying anything in the following moment, both women moved to hug each other.

"I'm sorry, Teenie," Queenie mumbled to her sister. "Still nothing from Newt, huh?"

Tina didn't have to answer out loud. Her legilimens sister could read the sad thoughts that floated through her mind.

"He's just busy, Tina," Queenie said, trying to console the dark-haired woman.

But quickly, the thoughts in her mind turned back to Jacob Kowalski's life and bakery.

"You know you shouldn't go see him anymore," Tina said, abruptly changing the subject.

"I don't talk to him, Tina. You laid out the rules very clearly."

"You know I'm not doing it to be mean. I know what he means to you and…I just don't want you to and…I just don't want you to get more hurt than you are already."

Queenie was trying not to take it all too personally. It was impossible to ignore how much Tina missed Newt, even though they'd only known each other for a few days. She didn't even need to read her sister's mind to know that when Tina began to stare off blankly she was thinking about Newt Scamander.

Queenie had been doing her best to keep Tina's mind on anything and everything other than Newt and his disappearance from their lives when she wasn't at work. Thankfully, MACUSA had reinstated Tina as an Auror and work was keeping her busy most of the time.

"I'm just trying to make sure how he's doing," Queenie said with a shrug.

"I don't need to be able to ready your mind to know that's not the only reason you're going by there. He's a No-Maj. You know you can't have a relationship with him. MACUSA…"

"MACUSA can change their laws!" Queenie said quickly. "And they should! Jacob is a wonderful man. And I…"

"And what?" Tina asked as she pulled on her coat. "I'm not doubting that Jacob Kowalski is a good man. But he doesn't remember you, Queenie. I'm sorry, but that stuff that Newt used, it obliviated him."

Queenie's hopeful smile fell a notch. "I know you're missin' Newt, but you can't keep takin' it out on me. I'm with ya, Teenie and I always will be. At some point, though, enough's enough. Why haven't you written him?"

Queenie'd suggested some correspondence before, but it was met with a decided no from Tina. She wasn't going to write so soon after he'd gone; she hadn't wanted to seem desperate. And soon, six months had flown by.

Today, Tina's response was first shock at her sister's suggestion, then her face softened.

"I know, I'm sorry, Queenie. I've been a lousy sister the last few months. I let him get into my head."

"That's what happens when you fall in love, you dummy," Queenie giggled. "Ya know, for as smart as you are, you can be real dumb sometimes," she said as she put an arm around her sister's shoulders.

"Love? Who said anything about love?" Tina asked. "Love?!" she sputtered. "I care about Newt, but…I wasn't even thinking about love…"

"Teenie, it's written all over your face, honey," she told her sister. "And that's perfectly okay! You just need to finally tell him."

"I have to get to work," Tina said, changing the subject once more.

"You have quills and parchment at your office, too, ya know. You can always write from there," Queenie said as Tina opened the door.

"Yes, I do, but I very likely won't have the time today," Tina replied.

"I'm going to send it for you then, Teenie. It's clear you're not going to make the time to do it…"

"I will do it. At my own pace, thank you very much. I have to go now. And stay away from the Kowalski bakery, all right? All right?" she repeated.

Queenie rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders before waving her sister out for the day. She wasn't going to make any promises on either of the subjects.