oblivioni traditæ

Amare

Tina sat back in her chair, staring at the files in front of her. But her mind was elsewhere. She kept replaying the dream in her head. She could hear the panic in her own voice and the calm in Newt's.

That was when I barely knew him, she mused. I barely knew him and I trusted him with my life. He says he caught me, and obviously, he did. I mean, I'm here. We're both here.

She frowned slightly.

Then why did he die? Why would I dream about him dying?

Her frown deepened. She was sure she knew the answer but, for some reason, it scared her. 

But it's true, she thought, rubbing her eyes. It's true and you know it. You've known it for a long time. You've known it for longer than you think.

And you wanted this, she reminded herself. You said you wanted it . . .

Well, it's not like I'm against it . . .

Then why are you so afraid of telling him?

I don't know . . .

Tina let out a sigh. She pushed her chair away from the table, the legs scraping against the wooden floor, and got to her feet. She crossed the room to Newt's door. It was open and she could see his case sitting in the middle of the room. Stepping around to the opening, she climbed down inside and exited the shed. She wandered around until she found Newt. He was seated with his back against the wooden frame of an enclosure, busy preparing a bucket of feed.

"Hey, Newt," she called hesitantly.

He glanced up for a moment before looking back at what he was doing.

"Yeah?"

"Newt, can we talk?"

"Of course," he said. "You can  always talk to me." He looked up again and noticed the expression on her face. His hands faltered. "On second thought, perhaps . . . Could it wait until I've finished this?" he asked. "I'm just about done and then I'll be able to give you my full attention."

"Yeah, that's fine," Tina said. Newt thought he heard a hint of relief in her voice.

She moved over to sit beside him and began helping him finish preparing the feed. He noticed that her hands were shaking slightly but he didn't say anything. They finished up quickly and Newt took the bucket back to his shed. Tina trailed after him, lost in thought.

"So," he said. She started, taking a stumbling step backward.

"What?"

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Oh, right," Tina mumbled. She looked down at her fidgeting hands. "Could we . . . I don't know . . . could we go out somewhere, you know, away from the house?"

"Yeah," Newt pulled open the door to the shed and took a step inside. Then he stopped and turned to look at her. "Why?"

She blushed slightly. "I-- I don't know. I just want . . . away."

He stepped back out of the shed. "Anywhere particular?"

"The pond we went to yesterday?" she suggested. "There's a bench there."

"Alright."

A few minutes later, they were in the street, wrapped in coats, scarves, and gloves. They walked hand in hand to the alley where they Apparated to the pond. Newt cleared the snow off the bench with a flick of his wrist and they took a seat. Tina leaned against him, resting her head on his chest, but she didn't say anything. He waited patiently, realizing that whatever she wanted to say must be difficult for her.