Enola Scamander grew up at Hogwarts during the reign of Grindelwald-practically abandoned there by her older brothers-Newt and Theseus. As their fame grew rampant and their involvement in the fight against Grindelwald became public, Enola's sense of...
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OLD FRIENDS ANEW
"You have very recognizable shoulders."
—Enola Holmes
"Relax, it's not that complicated." Natasha drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as I contemplated my superior's decision to send me on this mission, my chapped lips suffering under the brute force of my teeth. My head tilted to accommodate the redhead, her statement interrupting my heated staring match with the dashboard.
"And what might you be referring to?"
She glanced over at me, keeping pace with the traffic all the while, her frustration with idiot drivers evident in the way her hands clenched over the wheel. "You're clearly nervous to see him."
I didn't think it was that obvious. "It's been about two years now, Nat. Why would I be nervous?"
She raised a brow. "I don't know. Why would you be nervous?"
"I'm not."
"Then stop thinking about it."
"I am not—" I cut myself off, realizing that arguing with her would accomplish nothing. "Well, perhaps a bit." She smirked, prompting me to wack her on the shoulder. "It's not in the least bit funny."
"Sure it is."
"Natasha—"
"I'm kidding," she relented, that mischievous smirk still painting her face. "Look, there's the fossil now." My head whirled around—only to be met with a Steve-less sidewalk, my own shell-shocked reflection staring back at me faintly through the car window.
Natasha's humorous chuckle was what finally enlightened me to the deceit that I had been backstabbed by. "Prick," I muttered, settling myself back into the leather seat.
"Have you two talked since...?" she left the question open ended, causing me to cringe internally.
"I have kind of been avoiding him."
"You ghosted him?"
"I what?"
"Never mind," she said quickly, slamming on her horn as a car tried to swerve into her.
"I've been so busy with this agent thing. We're on different task forces. I know he's in the building sometimes, but I-I don't really know, to be honest." Admitting it out loud—I realized—put into perspective how pathetic the situation really was. "I've seen him around, I suppose, but I just walk the other way."
Natasha didn't judge. She kept her head straight and eyes trained on the road. "He asks about you, you know."
We left it at that.
"Spencer disappointed about being benched for the mission?" Natasha asked abruptly, directing the conversation elsewhere.
"Practically vented for an hour about no longer being a rookie, and that Fury owes her higher clearance, and...I spaced out to be honest."
