just a smidge of newt.

"Dear Mrs. Y/L/N,

You are requested for a private meeting. Please arrive before 5 o'clock, check in at the Atrium.

Ministry of Magic, HQ, Sealed."

That is how you found yourself warily walking out of the old phone booth and into their headquarters, into the bustle of the Atrium. It was filled to the brim as on routine. A multitude of shuffling feet resonated against the lively walls and the wooden floors, and you made your away amongst the bodies, slowing down out of curiosity. There were many different wizards there, some with their families, others alone. What you found curious was how eccentric some looked despite their early ages. Most had one thing in common: they were leaving quickly, having finished their purposed visits and hoping to get back to whatever they were previously doing. You would soon be in their shoes, scurrying about.

Finally making your way towards the security desk, you gave one of the workers your letter and proceeded to wait for the next. Your eyes drifted elsewhere quickly, absorbing the size of the room and the symbols above everyone's head. How long had it been since you step foot into the Ministry? Years, clearly, although they offered no excuse for your lack of memories of the place. After turning down the Auror position, you had no need to go near the Ministry throughout the passing years.

"Madam,"

You let out a small "oh," slightly startled, before turning and receiving a small folded paper. After thanking the wizard, you made your way towards the lifts. Only that, above every head, a mop of neatly styled curls appeared out of one of the metal transporters, and so your feet stopped, your eyes wide.

Is that..?

And your stilled feet suddenly turned into action, your heart hammering in your chest as you catch a glimpse of freckles you could never map out, never touch. Picking up speed, you opened your mouth in hopes that his name would come out, but nothing did. Your throat was dry as soon as you had recognized his hair, and your voice lost. What would you have said anyway? Would he even remember? It had been years.

 Suddenly, the mass of bodies before you thickened, and after accidentally stepping on a man and having him grab you by your sleeve, you were sure you'd be too late. No, please wait, you mentally pleaded.

"Miss-" Yet you gave him no time. He was another random Merlin in your book, and the glimpse you got of him was barely as important as the curls you were chasing.

"I'm tremendously sorry sir, but I am in quite a hurry," you said, hoping your creaky voice at least sounded apologetic, and took your hand back before moving away. But it was too late, by then. Even when standing where you had seen Newt, not a curl, and not a freckle of his, was seen.

Blinking furiously, you began to wonder if what you had seen was real. The night before had been particularly tiring for you, for being a Healer consumed most of your time. It could have been a hallucination, constructed by the subtle sting you felt each night as you thought of your old friend, but it was an undesirable possibility.

And if he was truly there, then just like your last years back at Hogwarts.... How was it that you had lost him yet again?

Your hands tremble lightly as your memories together resurfaced, but you swallowed them down. It had been about 10 years since you parted ways, and you were already aware you had to get over it. Unknitting your brow, you begrudgingly made your way to one of the lifts open, and headed to your respective floor.

Newt never truly minded confined spaces. He had grown accustomed to the variety of dwellings he explored to save his creatures, as well as the different habitats he needed to replicate for them. When it came to people, however, it was a bit different.

The proximity was the least of his worries. He had been used to visiting the Ministry, familiar with the sea of hats and robes that dashed across the various levels. But he never got used to the nudging, the slight yet consistent shove. Not of him, but of his suitcase. At some point of the evening, he always had to bring it to his chest, surround it with his arms before anyone accidentally knocked it off and set everything loose.

At least, he thought, in a few days he would take Frank to Arizona. That, and the fact that some members of the wizarding community, even if few in numbers, seemed truly eager or his book, eased his heart.

As he got out of the elevator with a timid smile still playing on his lips - a remnant from the weirdly phrased praises he had gotten earlier that evening) -, he gave a look to his briefcase, easing himself. It was still whole, safe in his hands. Then, like many times before, he saw one of the locked clips had already sprung open.

Newt urgently went to close it, until... was that a patch of fur? Quickly it scurried and landed on the floor, and suddenly golden eyes stared at the tall man, as if challenging.

"Don't you dare-" Newt began, but the Niffler had already sprang into action. It hid itself between the busy legs of passing wizards and witches, as if playing hide and seek.

Almost throwing himself onto the creature, Newt quickly summoned his wand before following. Some wizards barely noticed the man crawling about with his wand out, but most that did gave him disapproving stares. Not that Newt ever noticed, preferring to catch the creature before they could ever come to harm it - and before a scene ensued.

In a matter of seconds, somehow the Niffler had lead him towards the exit phone, and as soon as he could get a clear view of the bugger, he murmured a clipped "accio!"

With the playful furball then in his hands, he gave it a stern look - though his eyes could never betray their own softness. Then, after finding a quiet corner and shoving the Niffler back into the suitcase, he left. He had to prepare everyone for the upcoming trip, including himself.

"Wait a second dear, please repeat that,"

"Elizabeth, you aren't deaf. I... " you pressed your lips together, pausing, as if not wanting to mention it again, "I think I saw Newt."

"You think?" your best friend stared at you through the rim of her tea cup.

After a rather... peculiar evening inside the Ministry's Level 9, you decided you needed to see her. You had always stayed close, in touch despite making a living in different fields and going separate ways about two years back.

Elizabeth, and yourself, had previously studied and practiced to apply for Auror positions. It was something she had looked forward to the most, but the occupation had quickly lost its grip on your interest. While she applied and filled her role, rather magnificently if you may say so yourself, you had ventured elsewhere.

For a moment you thought maybe you'd turn into an astronomer, but the field of medicine had slowly lulled you to its side. So, officially, while you spent most of your evenings on a small Clinic in the outskirts of England, you were also a nighttime traveler. That is how your love for the stars sustained itself, along with indulgences in various books and topics related to it, such as divination.

"My mind, it's been drifting to him lately. We don't get letters anymore. It's been years, I shouldn't be holding on to his memories like this”

"Are you suggesting you hallucinated?"

"Perhaps it's a possibility," you answered, thankful for the way she could read between your lines.

 "Well, you did have a rather disastrous weekend didn't you? You look a bit awful, Y/N." Elizabeth said, a bit amusedly as she took another sip of her tea.

You followed, finally touching the forgotten drink in front of you. After the hot liquid made its way past your throat, you remembered how tired you were. And how good that milk tea soothed your tongue. By Merlin's beard, the obsession for the tea would come again. You could feel it.

 "Dear me, I am ever so thankful Ellie. I forgot I owned a mirror," you bit back inoffensively with a sneer, but she ignored the comment. Instead, you could feel her eyes burning your figure, questioning.

 "Y/N. Why don't you send him a letter? I never understood why you stopped trying to contact him after that one time. So he never replied once, maybe the letter got lost. "

You hummed, not being able to quite come up with an answer. You hadn't known why you stopped trying. At some point, Elizabeth and you had been too caught up with the overwhelming changes happening around you both. Before then was when you still maintained contact with him, but as life only moved forward, and your paths diverged in their entirety, the days grew shorter. Sending, receiving, and replying to letters was postponed - from both parties - for late night wonderings and a cup of tea, if you even managed to get away with such a feat.

It was about 4 years since you had last gotten one of his letters, and 4 years since you sent your last reply.

Honestly, you could not remember what you wrote. The memory grew foggy and you had simply forgotten. Days had passed, mostly unnoticed, and eventually you grew anxious. You had wondered if he was alright then, remembered how much you wanted to see him, his curls - those perfectly scattered freckles. But you had receded into a shell, a consequence of overthinking. What if he didn't want to be bothered? What if he simply grew tired of having to constantly keep up with the written passages? What if - what if… what if he had forgotten, but forgotten about more than just the letter?

Pressing your lips together, you shooed away your thoughts and continued to drink your tea.

 "I don't know. We were all wrapped up in our lives back then. And currently, he is still a very busy man, you know? With writing his upcoming book and all."

 "I still think you should give it a try. You already got informed about his current work. You can ask about that," Elizabeth said.

You couldn't help but murmur a "Maybe so. Maybe not," before giving it a rest, and working to change the subject of the conversation.