#newleta

Newt burst into the kitchen, slipping slightly as oneleg of his overlong pyjama pants slid under his foot causing him to bang intothe side of the door. He balanced himself with both hands on the doorframe ashis mind and body protested at the abrupt movement considering he had been fastasleep twenty seconds ago before falling out of his bed in a tangle ofblankets.

His sleepy, hazel eyes met Leta’s reproachful, amberones and he bit his lip with a tiny, apologetic smile that tended to acquit himof any wrongdoings. She rolled her eyes but the smile she was trying to biteback, and the small shake of her head, was evidence enough that he was forgivenas she drew her attention back to the stove where she was looking comically outof place holding the handle of a frying pan but with an awkward, unfamiliargrip as though she were holding a paintbrush.

Newt noticed she was still in the pyjama shirt andshorts she had been wearing when he had last bid her goodnight. As she had beensitting cross-legged on the spare bed when he had done so, he only now realisedhow nearly scandalously short they were, far shorter than the apron that hadmost likely been forcefully tied around her. Newt felt his cheeks redden and heswallowed and averted his gaze intently on the plates that were levitating fromthe cupboard to the kitchen table. These intrusive, discourteous thoughts hadseemingly come out of nowhere lately and were only becoming more frequent asthey became older.

Newt had been so fixated on the pattern of the tablecloth that he had tuned out completely and missed his mother’s re-entry intothe kitchen and subsequent ‘good morning, dear’.

“Earth to Newt!” his brother waved in amusement as hecame through the front door kicking off his muddy boots so they bounced andfell to the floor in a mess that made Mrs Scamander tut. He was also still inhis pyjamas, as he normally allowed himself to be on Sunday mornings, even ifthat for him only consisted of checkered pants, and a large Quidditch t-shirt.

“Hmm-what?” Newt looked up from the doorway he wasstill standing in, startled out of his daze.

Theseus shook his head with a laugh. “Well, you do abetter job as a door than you do of your chores.”

Leta had frowned at that, her awkward grip tighteningon the pan handle and shooting a scathing look at the older Scamander as shedid to anyone who dared to say anything less than complimentary about Newt inher presence.

“I just ended up repairing the fence myself thismorning. Honestly if they weren’t so attached to you, we’d be chasing escapedHippogriffs every second day.”

Leta smiled at that and looked at Newt warmly and fullof admiration and he tried to form a small laugh but whatever escaped wassomething between a squeak and a snort that he would replay mortifyingly overand over in his head when trying to fall asleep for the next few weeks.

“Sit down, Newton,” his mother urged from the sink andhe fell into the nearest chair before he could come up with any other ridiculousnoises.

“While you were sleeping in…” Mrs Scamander said toher youngest son as he stared at an old copy of Witch Weekly on the table. “…Loleta and I have been going through ‘Witch Weekly’s Twenty Housekeeping Hacks forYoung Witches to Impress Prospective Husbands’.”

Newt winced and cursed himself for sleeping in whileTheseus burst out in laughter and earned a contemptuous look from his motherwho snatched the magazine up and stuffed it into the pocket of her own apron.Newt knew his mother, who had longed for a daughter, would be overly enamoredby Leta and he had, up until this morning, done a fairly good job of steering herout of sight at the mere mention of a hairbrush or petticoat.

“She doesn’t know how to cook pancakes!” the woman said defensively to her sons as if this factalone was scandalous enough, they would understand immediately the importanceof this ordeal.

“Of course not,” Theseus joked, placing a jug ofpumpkin juice and cups on the table. “Elite purebloods don’t eat - they’resustained by pure human souls.”

Newt and Mrs. Scamander’s simultaneous horrifiedsplutters and admonishments were drowned out by each other while Leta suppresseda chuckle.

“I’ve always had house-elves and no one ever taught met-” she said to Mrs. Scamander who tutted.

“Well, that won’t do at all. No harm in a ladyacquiring some basic housekeeping skills. Hogwarts has always been neglectfulon that front.”

Leta didn’t have the heart to tell the kind woman thatthe only lady-like skills her family expected from her were little more thanlaying on her back and producing as many heirs as possible for a man of theirchoosing twice her age until she either died in childbirth or was sufficientlysapped of any youthful beauty and replaced with whichever poor girl was set tofollow her.

Newt immediately sensed her melancholy and stoppedspinning his empty cup to glance up at her in concern. She, in turn, could feelhis anxiety and smiled reassuringly before handing him his plate.

“The first for you, of course. My future husband isburning with jealously.”

“Thank you,” he smiled weakly, not finding it in hisheart to find her joke even the slightest bit amusing despite her playfulness.She stretched as high as her tiny stature would allow to reach the honey on theshelf and set it down beside Newt and squeezed his upper arm in a far morediscreet version of the hug that she’d usually throw herself into each morning.As a testament to how long she’d been in both the Scamander boy’s life, Letawas well versed on their preferences and had no difficulty selecting a lemonfrom the fruit bowl and throwing it perhaps a little too forcefully at Theseus’head. Though, he managed to catch it effortlessly but looked no less offended.“I hope your future husband is an aptKeeper, or a Seeker at the least, or the poor sod’s going to make do without aneye for the rest of his life.”

Mrs. Scamander looked pleased with her work as Leta titteredabout the table setting everything up trying to ignore the concealed laughterof Theseus, and occasionally Newt who couldn’t help himself. They knew this wasjust an overexaggerated show for Mrs. Scamander and there was nothing moreutterly hilarious and nonsensical than Leta Lestrange in a paisley patternedapron and furrowed eyebrows deciding where domestic etiquette dictated thesugar bowl should be placed.

As Leta leaned over him to fill his cup, swatting awayhis mortified attempts to do it himself, Newt poured all his attention intoshoveling pancake into his mouth as enthusiastically as possible in an attemptto absolutely not think about the dip of her neck to her shoulder and todisable his ability to talk so the urge to tell her she looked especiallypretty this morning blossomed into anything other than a pesky, internalthought.

Mrs. Scamander, happy with her morning’s efforts, wentoutside after spotting their neighbours across the road.

“What do you think?” Leta asked quietly and hopefullywhile setting his glass down and Newt was entirely aware of her hair brushinghis shoulder and ear which would normally make him shudder had it been anyoneelse so close but instead, he felt like he could melt into his chair and thatseemed a far scarier feeling.

He swallowed quickly and choked slightly.“Beautiful…b-beautiful pancakes. Really good,” he gave her a thumbs up beforehe could stop himself, but she smiled so bright he thought he might ascend.

She turned away quickly and went back to the stovewhere she seemed far more enthusiastic pouring the batter in, glowing from theencouragement of the only person whose opinion she valued. And then of coursethere was…

“Good god, Lestrange, that’s bloody awful!” Theseusgagged, spitting his first bite out into his napkin and Leta folded her armswith the spatula in her hand looking affronted.

“Newt likes it!”

Theseus chortled before standing up and taking hisglasses out his pyjama pants pocket and cleaning them on his shirt. “Newt wouldeat a bowl of ash if you wished it so.” It seemed he too had then noticedLeta’s nightclothes, or lack thereof, once the clarity of his vision wasrestored. “I think nearly every teenage boy would if you served it to themhalf-naked.”

“I’m in my pyjamas!” she snapped. “And you didn’t eat it!”  

“I respect my stomach far too much for that. I mighthave managed it if it had been either burnt or raw…but you have somehow managedboth,” he said stepping over to assess the damaged and Leta frowned down at thefrypan.

Theseus reached from behind her, turning down theswitches. “Merlin, it’s up way too high.”

“Doesn’t that just mean it cooks faster?”

Newt wasn’t sure why but for some reason watching themmade something twist violently in the pit of his stomach and he nearly wincedat the suddenness of it. He didn’t hide it well, or Leta’s instincts were asgood as his were about her, because she noticed immediately, pushing Theseusout the way, with far too much dramatic force, and rushing over to him.

“Great, now I’ve made you sick!” she cried outsnatching the plate away with one hand and pushing his hair back from hisforehead with the other to feel his temperature like she had learned to do withthe baby murtlaps.

Mrs Scamander came back through the door lookingrather cheery and bright and interrupting the scene of Theseus lookingscandalized over being pushed over and Leta practically in Newt’s lap, in aworry, and completely mistaking why his cheeks were so warm under her palms.

“Newt, my darling,” she said to her son. “If you’regoing to vomit, do it quickly and before you get changed. Theseus please gofetch that nice shirt we got for your interview…”

Newt frowned. “Whatfor?”

“My funeral,” Theseus answered, swishing water in hismouth before spitting it out in the sink. “It’s too late for a beazor, littlebrother. Just put me in the ground before Lestrange can pin me up like one ofher beetles.”

“It was for a decomposition observation!” she snappedun-sashing her apron.

“It’s serial killer crafts,” Theseus said as he walkeddown the hall to his bedroom. “And it’s why the other students refused to sharea dormitory with you.”

Mrs Scamander ignored their argument and rinsed her handsbefore carding them through Newt’s hair much to his protest.

“The Prewett’s are back from their trip to Spain forthe rest of the holidays. We thought it might be a nice idea for you andPennilyn to take out the new hippogriff’s so they can stretch their wings…”

“With PennilynPrewett?” Newt scowled in a way that made Leta fail to suppress a snort andchoke on her juice.  

Mrs Scamander glowered at the pair of them.

“Yes, Newton. And I will do well to remind you that wework alongside and get along very well with the Prewetts. I expect you to benothing but a perfect gentleman today.”

“He isn’t capable of anything else,” Leta smiledfondly, reaching to squeeze his hand on top of the table.

Newt stared at her for a moment too long.“I-bluh-we-but we-we were supposed to…yes!” he turned triumphantly to hismother. “Leta and I have plans to go and observe the mooncalves today.”

“Mooncalves only come out during a full moon,” Theseussaid walking back, dressed for the day now, and handing his mother a freshlypressed shirt.

“How do youknow that?” Leta took her hand off Newt’s and turned in her chair.

“Urh, it’s a mooncalf. You don’t have to froth at the mouth at the mention of anything fourlegged to understand preschool zoology.”

Leta frowned skeptically.

“…and you and Newt were talking about it through thewalls at 4am this morning,” he mumbled into his cup of tea still clearly annoyedat their interruption of his sleep.

“That’s that then, dear,” Mrs Scamander shoved theshirt at Newt. “Go put this on and then bring me that hair stuff your brotherbought when that muggle girl started working at the teashop down the streetlast year.”

“I think just saying ‘hair lotion’ would have helpedhim out enough,” Theseus muttered as Leta lit up like a Christmas tree and Newttrudged to his room in defeat.

“Poor thing,” Leta sighed after him, curling herfingers around the cup of tea she had barely noticed Theseus put down in frontof her.

“Well, if he had done a little better on his O.W.L’s,she probably wouldn’t be trying to pimp him out to our feed suppliers.”  

“Excuse me,” Leta snapped defensively. “He received Acceptable in nearly all his subjectsand I personally don’t think his Astronomy essay was marked correctly. I’vealready sent a strongly worded letter to-”

“Lestrange, one of the few, simple joys in my life whenon break is not having the moral obligation to put out the fires you two start– figuratively and literally. I would be ecstatic to not hear about any plannedshenanigans until well past July. Honestly, some of the schemes I’ve had themisfortune of overhearing during the past week alone are enough to make my haircurl…”

“Figurately, I assume. I wager we would have to blowup the castle to decently contend with your muggle wooing hair gel.”

They both sipped their tea.

Newt came in, sleeves flopping hopelessly despite his half-heartedattempts to roll them up. He looked so deflated with the mornings turn ofevents and Leta tried to smile reassuringly as she stood to help.

She knitted her eyebrows together thoughtfully as shecast a charm that produced a length of thread from the tip of her wand thatdivided into sections and began stitching itself along the hems of the shirt tomake it fit Newt perfectly.  

“Volume 10, issue 4 of Witch Weekly,” she answered wryly to his entranced look. “Not quiteyour mothers craftmanship I’m afraid but at least the shirt isn’t wearing youanymore.”

Newt glanced down and touched the delicate, nearlyinvisible stitching on one of the sleeves. It was true that it was a littleless even and straight then the usual tailoring he’d recognise from his schoolshirts and the stitches we’re looped like interlocking L’s.

“After taking out the new hippogriffs, what else doyou and your betrothed have planned for the day?” Leta asked teasingly as shestood on tip toes to fix his collar folded the wrong way.  

“She is not my betrothed,”Newt scrunched his nose up and Leta chuckled before sighing endearingly.

“She is verybeautiful,” she mused with an encouraging and hopeful smile up at him. Newt’sshoulders fell and he sat back down in his chair staring at the tableclothglumly. Leta’s gentle encouragement, although good natured, made him feel asthough all the air had left his lungs in place of something far heavier and uncomfortable.

Leta sat beside him slowly, her eyes swimming withconcern but her smile was still bright. “But it’s just this one time and if itis truly awful, at least you trying will appease your mother and hopefully shewon’t be as cross when if she finds out we brou-” she stopped suddenly andglanced over at Theseus who was scraping the mud off his boots. He closed hiseyes and looked up to the ceiling, quietly muttering ‘not til well past July’ again.

Leta took the bottle of hair lotion from Newt’s handand lobbed it to Theseus who, again, caught it expertly but no less accusatory.

“He’ll need it,” Leta winked at Newt who didn’tunderstand the joke. “…and besides,” she messed up his hair from the neatattempt Mrs Scamander had made. “This looks much better.”

Newt couldn’t help but smile back a little. He knewthat Pennilyn had about as much interest in his company as he had hers and evenless interest in hippogriffs or any kind of creatures. Her aversion to gettingdirty and Newt’s aversion to…people in general had hampered any hope of themplaying together as children. They had exchanged polite greetings on the oddand painful occasion they crossed paths during school break and at school, sheavoided him like dragonpox and Leta even more so. He couldn’t help but feelperhaps their morning of forced chore-sharing would potentially be moreunpalatable for her than even himself but she was polite, at least, and thesooner he appeased his mother, the sooner he could get back to Leta and theirplans.

“Newt!” Mrs Scamander exclaimed exasperatedly as shewalked back in. “Now isn’t the time for a tea party! Hurry now, please. Don’tforget to put them back in their enclosure once you are both finished. Anddon’t feel the need to hurry back. I’ve put some sickles in your bag incase youboth go get some hot chocolate.”

Leta went back to her tea to hide her amused smile andNewt began to grow sour with his best friends surprising unhelpfulness.

“Maybe Leta should accompany us,” Newt piped up nottaking his annoyed look off Leta as he spoke and feeling less guilty aboutthrowing her under the best with him after her endless smirking. “Pennilynisn’t as confident with the hippogriffs and I could use the help.”

Mrs Scamander wiped her hands on her apron withoutlooking at him.

Even with her hesitation at such a strange andunlikely companionship early on, she had grown to foster and appreciate thevery close friendship Newt had with Leta Lestrange. She had also grown to loveand care for Leta herself and had witnessed the girl blossom from an ungainly,scabby-kneed child into a strikingly beautiful young woman. She was also notunaware of her son noticing this also.

She had hoped that the two could remain uncomplicatedand peaceful in the fascinating bubble in which they managed to coexist,somehow separate from their two impossibly different worlds. But a bubble is abubble after all, and Mrs Scamander knew such a place, heartbreakingly so,could not exist for the impossible pair once their education finished and they wouldreturn to their respective worlds. This was further complicated by the changeshe had noticed in her son’s heart and she felt it would be kindest, and safestin Leta’s case, to stomp out this budding potential before either child got hurt…orless tolerant relatives were to take notice.

“I was going to ask Loleta to accompany Theseusinto town today for some errands, actually.”

“Well, you could build a whole world from the thingsyou were going to do but, thankfully, we live in this world,” Theseussaid not looking up from his book. “The world in which that doesn’t happen, andTheseus maintains a decent blood pressure and an as good as to be expected underthe circumstances morning.”

Mrs Scamander looked warningly at her eldest son. “Ifyou want either of those things, Theseus, you’ll do what I ask and you’ll do itwith a smile.”

She felt quite safe with this arrangement. Despite thefact that Leta had been a part of Theseus’ life just as long as she had Newt’s,the pair had instead grown to a fond, comfortable dislike of each other. And eventhough she was often horrified by their squabbling, she knew Theseus was theonly person who from the very beginning had never been impressed, disgusted,mystified, or wary of who she was. Mrs Scamander thought Leta could professherself as the great Merlin himself in disguise and Theseus wouldn’t look upfrom his book.  

“That’s no problem,” Leta said sweetly to MrsScamander. “Anything to help.”

“You look lovely,” Leta told Newt reassuringlysqueezing his palm hanging by his side. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“As will I,” Theseus said before turning to his mother.“Hopefully not in several preservation jars in Lestrange’s trunk but if so bethe case know that you brought this upon us.”

Theseus and Leta watched from the kitchen window asNewt stood dejectedly fiddling with his sleeves next to his mother as she chattedanimatedly with another woman who was equally adorned with a quiet and unenthusiasticteenager by her side.

Leta sighed deeply, fiddling with her necklace.

“Good lord, Lestrange, he’s going on a date notheading off to war.”

He’s too good foreither. “There’s little difference to Newt.”

“In that he would fare just as well in either, then Ifear you’re right.”

“Theseus Scamander and admitting that I’m right. Isn’tthat one of the signs of the apocalypse?”

Theseus scoffed. “It couldn’t come fast enough. Getyour coat. Hopefully it hits before we arrive in the main street and thetownspeople can rest peacefully in the blissful unawareness of Leta Lestrange.”

She rolled her eyes, walking to the bedroom to getdressed and yelling loud enough for him to hear. “Apocalypse or not, I willdrag myself, bloody and battered, to glimpse the muggle teashop girl responsiblefor this county’s annual hair product sales.”

“I don’t think it’s your type of place, Lestrange. It’scosy and whimsical with soft music and a lovely assortment of tea. There’s nohopes, dreams, and animal bones on the menu, if you could believe it.”

“I can actually,” Leta said returning to the kitchendressed warmly in her coat, scarf, and boots. “I’m noticing the lack of elitepureblood-friendly cafes in this area. Nary a blood sacrifice Sunday in sight!”

“They favour poetry readings on Sunday nights, I’mafraid. It’s quite unaccommodating.”

“Well, your hometown is getting a grim one-star in myreview for the Sacred 28 Sentinal’s lifestyle section.”

“And right before our Sadistic Blood Purity SpringBig Bash Festival? Have you no heart?” he offered his arm to her as they steppedout on to the slippery pavement.

“For practical purposes yes,” Leta said linking her armswith his. “But you see it’s two sizes smaller than the average wizards.”

“Ah, it’s probably just a defect from the less thanancient incestuous genealogy. You’re not to blame, Lestrange.”

“I’ll remember to remind you of that the next time Isay something inflammatory,” Leta mused. “Surely it can’t be helped, you know, inmy unfortunate condition and all.”