Newt stands on the ledge of a rooftop soaking in the skyline of New York City. The setting sun emits golden rays that glisten over the tips of the skyscrapers. He's blown away by its beauty. Pickett chirps from his shoulder.
Queenie enters a pigeon coop that's further down the rooftop. She finds Jacob inspecting their nests.
"Your grandfather kept pigeons? Mine bred owls! I use to love feeding 'em." She comments on the similarities of their past.
Tina stands on another corner of the roof, gazing at her feet and the bustling city underneath them. Disappointment grows within her. Esther touches her shoulder.
"Don't worry, we'll prove our innocence to the Congress." She tries to console her friend.
Tina downcasts on the witch's hand, showing no signs of encouragement. Esther frowns.
"Fine. I'll let you sulk until you figure out a plan. You're good at that." The witch says turning away to walk towards Newt.
She steps on the ledge next to him.
A beat.
"Graves would constantly come into my office insisting the occurrences were caused by a beast of some sort. We need to find yours so he can no longer make them his excuse. He hates being wrong." She informs the wizard.
"There's one left that's missing. Dougal, my demiguise." He says.
She lets out a giggle, "Dougal? You come up with the cutest of names."
He blushes, looking at her collarbones. "Well, slight problem with him is that... He's invisible."
Esther's giggles intensify by the absurdity of their next adventure. "And how do you suppose we find him?"
A smile breaks his vacant expression, about to laugh himself. "With immense difficulty."
They smile at each other, giggling softly to themselves. Their demeanor has changed. The new tension between them has Newt avoiding eye contact with the witch. He stares at her cheerful lips. A moment passes. Esther steps closer to him once more. Her hand rests on top of his. The spaces between his fingers welcome hers to fit between them. He looks down at their hands. His eyes trace up to her lips. Anticipation fills in his heart as he awaits her next move.
"Esther! Gnarlack!" Tina shouts running to them.
The witch is startled. She jumps, resulting in her heel slipping off the edge. With their hands already intermingled, it's effortless for Newt to withdraw her from the fatal fall. He pulls with immense force, frantic of the thought of losing her again. Esther leaps into his chest. Her arms swing around his waist, refusing to let go. His physique is so slender resulting in her hands wrapping around her elbows. The aromas of musk and lavender with notes of vanilla fill her nostrils. She didn't notice it in the execution chambers, or at the bank. It brings back memories of her time in Ilvermorny.
Clouds of fog immerse in her mind. A young Esther, presumably 16, stirred a liquid. Blues, greens, and silver shined through the waves on the potion brewing. Steam spiraled from her rusted, worn cauldron. Her fellow classmates roared with excitement from their own potions and the scents lingering from them. She hunched over her cauldron and took a long whiff of hers. It's acrid. A coughing storm erupted from her, silencing the classroom.
"What does your Amortentia potion smell like Esther?" her neighbor asked with a shrewd smirk.
Once her coughing subsided she inhaled it once more, but much slower. It smelt warm and earthy, like home.
"I smell musk. A lot of it, really. And lavender! Also a small note of vanilla?" She answered proudly.
Her classmates started snickering at her.
"Sounds like he smells like you. Stinky!" One of them giggled.
She frowned, leaning into her shoulder to sniff her garments. Patchouli. Her mother used it on everything. Their laughter grew as they continued to pick on her.
"You're soulmate will probably be a pig!" Another student shouted.
"Or a cow!" A girl in the back shrieked.
Esther threw the hood of her robe over her head to conceal herself from the embarrassment.
Her memory fades in a cloud of white smoke as she comes back to reality.
Tina stops in her steps witnessing what she caused. Her mouth gapes open, stunned.
Esther's head pops out of his overcoat. She's uncertain of what's going on. Confused, she looks up at Newt then at Tina before leaping from his embrace.
"Esther. I'm so sorry." She apologizes. Guilt looms over her as Esther fixates on her.
"I'm sorry? Wha-What did you say?" Newt casually asks Tina.
"Gnarlack! Esther, you know him. He was an informant of mine when I was an Auror. He use to trade magical creatures on the side." She speaks fast.
A shock of excitement rushes through him.
"Would he happen to have an interest in paw prints?" He asks the witches.
Instantaneously Esther shakes her head no.
"He's not interested in that, but for the right price he'll spill information." She responds avoiding to look at him.
Tina smiles at Esther's answer, "He's interested in anything he can sell." She confirms.
———-~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They apparate to a sketchy part of town. Bottles clattered. Random shouts from drunk people echo among the streets. Tina leads them down an inconspicuous alleyway lined with bins, crates, and objects left there with no regard. They follow her down some steps leading to a dead end. A picture of a female debutante staring at herself in a mirror is painted on the old brick wall.
The Goldstein's stand in front of the poster then turn to each other and raise their wands. As their wands are raised, glitter encases them. It disperses within a few seconds, leaving them both in extravagant flapper dresses. Queenie flashes a cheeky smile at Jacob, who blushes at the sight.
Esther stands in the back, not bothering to change as she's a regular at the bar. She taps Newt on his shoulder. He turns to her attention. She straightens his bow tie that's snug between the collar of his shirt. He blushes at her affectionate action.
The former auror raises her hand at the painting. The debutante's eyes follow her every movement. She knocks on the wall in a rhythmic pattern.
A hatch opens. The eyes of the debutante are replaced with a suspicious guard brooding brow.
They step into a dimly light, low ceiling speakeasy meant for the lowest of the low of the magical community. Every patron here is a wanted criminal. Posters of their wanted postings are tacked proudly on the walls. The main poster is one of Gellert Grindelwald. 'Wanted for no-maj slayings in Europe' it reads in bold print.
A glamorous goblin jazz singer twirls among the stage of fellow goblin musicians. Smokey images of the lyrics she sings are produced from her wand. It sets the atmosphere of menacing fun.
Jacob stands at what appears to be an unmanned bar. He waits to be served.
"How do I get a drink around here?" He asks aloud.
As soon as his words leave his lips, a bottle of beer glides from the bar and slides into his alarmed hand. The bald dome of a house elf's head peers from behind the bar.
"What? You ain't seen a house-elf before?" The elf's gruff voice replies.
The no-maj's eyebrows rise. "Oh, no, yeah, no. Yeah, of course, I uh... I love house-elves," He stammers failing at playing cool, "My uncle's a house-elf."
The elf grunts at him, unamused by the no-maj's comment as he lifts himself on a crate leaning against the bar to stare at Jacob. Esther walks past the bar alongside Newt and Tina. The house-elf waves his hand up, gesturing towards the witch.
"Hey Red! Long time, no see! I'll get you're regular." The house-elf greets.
Queenie approaches the bar, looking downwards as she orders, "Six shots of giggle water and a lobe blaster."
The house-elf hops off his seat begrudgingly to make the orders, including Esther's.
Queenie glances up at Jacob as he takes one of the shots from her tray eager to taste wizardry booze.
"Are all no-majs like you?" She asks.
He smirks, trying to swoon her with his charm. "No, I'm the only one like me."
He holds intense eye contact with the legilimens before he knocks the shot back in one swallow. Immediately following a high-pitched cackle comes from him. She laughs at his unexpected expression.
Tina sets off on her own. Her eyes dart from each person to the next, recognizing at least half of them.
Esther sits at a small table in a far corner with Newt joining her. Awkward silence brews. He examines the room and the wizards filling the space: heavily scared and bruised wizards hiding behind cloaks and hoods.
"You can tell me to mind my own business... but I saw something in that death potion back at the MACUSA. The Obscurus and the ghastly figures." Newt strikes a personal conversation.
A round glass half-filled with a dark liquid is placed on the table by Queenie who watches her protectively. Esther's voice chirps in the witch's mind.
Esther bites her lip, holding her glass with her thumbs tracing the rim. She looks away. "I-um... I'm not very comfortable talking about it." Her response is meek.
He notices her body language shifts. Where she conveys herself to be smaller, more submissive versus the confident witch that he is desperate to piece together. His curiosity has become the best of him. He lowers his head in response.
She wishes to tell him, or anyone. She needs to confess her pain to someone. Maybe it would help her heal. To release her burden.
"I've been hurt... In the past."
Newt looks up, inquisitive.
"Oftentimes... My past, it... Well, it comes in flashes. I don-I don't understand it. Or why it happens. But it does. It's who I am. Or, what's left of me," She pauses to look at him, waiting for him to react, "I feel doomed, all the time and nothing makes it any better." She stutters, trying to piece together words to make sense.
Before Newt can say anything Queenie signals from across the room, whispering, "It's him."
Relief melts away from her and the dreaded topic.