Why Can't I Tell You

A Little Talk

A few days after Newt and Tina's walk in Central Park, Newt was startled by a loud knock on his case lid. Tina was at work and usually no one else bothered to come down much.

"Hey, Newt honey can I come in?" Queenie's voice floated throughout the numerous habitats.

"Oh Queenie, of course," Newt replied, quickly screwing the cap of the mooncalf eyedrops back on and ambling towards the shed. Queenie appeared in the doorway smiling, her strawberry curls framing her face. 

"I was wonderin' if I could talk to you," she said, averting her eyes and fiddling with the edge of her dress. 

"Of course," Newt nodded, "Would you like to take a walk?" He gestured to the habitats around them. Queenie smiled and nodded slightly. What's wrong? Did I do something? 

"Oh no honey, everythin' is fine. I just came to talk to you about Tina," Queenie assured. Newt visibly tensed and looked up at her. Fear was woven into his eyes, along with worry, and maybe, possibly, just a tinge of longing.

"Have..have...I," Newt began.

"No, no you've done nothin' wrong. It's just, I've been hearin' your thoughts, and well, I was just wonderin'. Sometimes Leta enters your mind, but you don't hurt anymore like you used to, do you? Oh, no you don't have to tell me. I shouldn't have come down here. I'm so sorry Newt, I'll just..." Queenie quickly said turning around.

"Leta and I were close," Newt managed, "Just as you saw last time. I was very awkward and unsocial, and I can't say that's changed. Leta was despised, cast away. Rumors constantly surrounded her family. We grew as friends. At some point, maybe I thought of her as...as more?" A pause. "She seemed to see the true me and accept it. I was sure no one else would ev...ever...would ever do the same. During seventh year, she endangered another student's life with  grindylows. Leta released them into the lake near Hogwarts while students were swimming, one person drowned. I said I did it." Newt looked up, "You see, I...I..."

"You loved her," Queenie finished gently. Newt swallowed thickly, looking to the side, his eyes flickered up to meet hers. "You don't anymore though. Not like you used to." He looked up again. 

"People change," he said. Queenie nodded, in deep thought. 

"So, umm Newt, are ya gonna talk to Tina," she asked. Pain flickered across his face. There was silence between the two for a long, drawn out moment. He noticed Queenie staring past him, back at the shed. There were letters there, unsent, crumpled up, worded all wrong. Too forward, too formal, too boring, too deep. "It's hurting you Newt," she breathed, "You're holding it in." Newt pressed his lips into a thin line and scratched the back of his head. 

"I'm sorry," he finally said. 

"What on Earth for?" Queenie questioned.

"For...for...my thoughts everyday, and erm... for... fall-..."he faltered.

"You can't be sorry for that honey," Queenie said in disbelief, "That's not something you can control. It's a beautiful thing." Newt's eyes widened. She smiled, "Hey, now, hey, hey, look at me." Newt seemed to be looking everywhere except for her. Queenie put her hands on either of his arms and forced him to face her and look at her. "I won't tell." She pressed something into his palm. "Thank you for opening your heart up Newt. It was nice to have a conversation without havin' to, ya know, pry for everythin'." Queenie kneaded her fingers together.

Newt smiled back weakly. When he heard her clamber up the stairs he opened his palm. A photograph unfolded. On it were two little girls. One with light, blonde hair in two braids. The other with a dark chignon, stray pieces of hair falling like wisps around her face. They seemed to be about eleven and fifteen. One had baby blue eyes. One had dark, syrupy brown eyes. He smiled as he traced the contours of the older one's face with this finger. There she was, so much younger, yet so very recognizable.