Well, that was it, then. We this way and you that way – he to Jutland, Percival’s cufflinks jiggling against his heart, in his shirt pocket. And Tina and Percival to the Hogwarts and History’s rehearsal scene. Dark clouds to be stopped, children to be saved. Newt mustered everything he had and smiled into their eyes.
"Here," Tina said, handing him her cape. It had been Transfigured back into a plaid and folded into a makeshift saddle. She now wore Percival ‘s coat, Percival crowing all the whiile about his two layers and cashmere waistcoat. "And here’s your map. Keep the sunset on your right, and when you’re done – home and bed, Newt."
"What, no battlecry for me?" Newt grinned, resolved to ease their parting by turning on the mischief. "No Come back above your dragon or don’t come back??"
"You come back on this dragon, I’m jinxing you myself." Tina stroked the dragon’s snout and turned away, but Newt caught her elbow, mischief forgotten.
"Tina. Just – this. Percival, come here."
He waited until he could feel their warmth at each side. "My true home is in Dorset. Fires in winter, a garden in bloom. Rooms, lots of them, goose-feather beds and fat armchairs, and honey for tea everyday. And a Kneazle for each of us. Tell me I’ll see you there when you’re done." He turned and touched his forehead to Percival’s. "Tell me."
"I promise, Newt."
"I promise." Tina’s sweet-creased brow nuzzled his. "Dibs on Milly."
Newt smiled, and was still smiling at them when the dragon took off. He gave the bridle some slack; pressed his toecap gently into the soft secret gap between two scales, his own war reflexes revived. "Huisipisi," he said, bending over his charge’s neck to whisper in his ear, which perked to the ancient sibilants. The dragon’s wings flapped quicker, stronger, as he kept the sunset to his right.
Newt turned his head back, but the island had already been squeezed to pebble size under him. Only the wind now, above and beneath and around, bracing and carefree, and he threw the two of them into it.
------------------------------------
In the early hours, in the fireline, Minerva McGonagall’s tartans looked almost flamboyant: a sunset before sunset. She and Tina stood on the battlement, doing their best to Headmistress a battle which ebbed and flowed without any discipline. Not unlike the Werewolf Frat on a spree, Tina thought wildly, but so much more lethal.
"Two naps a day," Minerva said, watching her fire a strafing round at a knot of Snatchers surrounding a lone Centaurs. "I could certainly do with one these days. You look – JORDAN! NO SALLY INTO THE WOODS UNTIL I SPEAK THE WORD! – quite tireless, Porpentina."
Tina nodded. "I feel tireless."
"And yet, planning to retire." Minerva gave her a sharp-eyed look. "Winning a war is only half the job, Porpentina."
"Yes, that’s experience taught me." Together, they kindled a new energy field in the main quad. "It’s also taught me about faith. And wanting. And winning your own peace."
"Hmm." Minerva still looked stern, but there was a wry, humorous glint in her eye in the next lull of fight. "Anything to do with the very dashing gentleman who relieved me of command in the Quad Courtyard?"
Before Tina could answer, there were cries and whoops further below, and a great slash of gold in the sky. Tina looked up and gasped. Minerva, while keeping clear of anything so undignified as a gasp, rasped her throat. "Tina, is this a –"
"Tina! Perce!" Newt’s voice, amplified, cascaded down the stone walls as he swept a wide half-circle. He sounded positively ebullient. "You said not above this dragon – but that one’s a Hungarian Horntail! He’s a champ!"
"Merlin in Avalon," Minerva muttered. She turned to Tina, lost to the warmth of reunion, and rasped her throat. "Gentleman friends, Tina?"
The Horntail dove snout first into the fray, ploughing fire as it did. The fire kindled a light, and the light struck a new perspective. She wasn’t a Seer. And neither was Percival down below, an unseen presence linked to her by that radiant trail. But at that moment, it was as if Tina had been granted night vision. She saw what she didn’t know yet would be the morning-end of night – she saw daylight in Dorset and a house with its windows flung open to it, she heard the sound of bees and Rolf’s laughter in the bloom of Spring, and indoors, talking over old times and a cup of tea, she saw the three of them sitting close together with a Kneazle on each lap.
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
It would be the end of the journey, their unexpected, incredible journey.
And it would be nothing like an end.
[Thanks to my meme commenters! I'll be back to link to the cleaned-up version on AO3]
Fill: There and Back (12/12)
"Here," Tina said, handing him her cape. It had been Transfigured back into a plaid and folded into a makeshift saddle. She now wore Percival ‘s coat, Percival crowing all the whiile about his two layers and cashmere waistcoat. "And here’s your map. Keep the sunset on your right, and when you’re done – home and bed, Newt."
"What, no battlecry for me?" Newt grinned, resolved to ease their parting by turning on the mischief. "No Come back above your dragon or don’t come back??"
"You come back on this dragon, I’m jinxing you myself." Tina stroked the dragon’s snout and turned away, but Newt caught her elbow, mischief forgotten.
"Tina. Just – this. Percival, come here."
He waited until he could feel their warmth at each side. "My true home is in Dorset. Fires in winter, a garden in bloom. Rooms, lots of them, goose-feather beds and fat armchairs, and honey for tea everyday. And a Kneazle for each of us. Tell me I’ll see you there when you’re done." He turned and touched his forehead to Percival’s. "Tell me."
"I promise, Newt."
"I promise." Tina’s sweet-creased brow nuzzled his. "Dibs on Milly."
Newt smiled, and was still smiling at them when the dragon took off. He gave the bridle some slack; pressed his toecap gently into the soft secret gap between two scales, his own war reflexes revived. "Huisipisi," he said, bending over his charge’s neck to whisper in his ear, which perked to the ancient sibilants. The dragon’s wings flapped quicker, stronger, as he kept the sunset to his right.
Newt turned his head back, but the island had already been squeezed to pebble size under him. Only the wind now, above and beneath and around, bracing and carefree, and he threw the two of them into it.
------------------------------------
In the early hours, in the fireline, Minerva McGonagall’s tartans looked almost flamboyant: a sunset before sunset. She and Tina stood on the battlement, doing their best to Headmistress a battle which ebbed and flowed without any discipline. Not unlike the Werewolf Frat on a spree, Tina thought wildly, but so much more lethal.
"Two naps a day," Minerva said, watching her fire a strafing round at a knot of Snatchers surrounding a lone Centaurs. "I could certainly do with one these days. You look – JORDAN! NO SALLY INTO THE WOODS UNTIL I SPEAK THE WORD! – quite tireless, Porpentina."
Tina nodded. "I feel tireless."
"And yet, planning to retire." Minerva gave her a sharp-eyed look. "Winning a war is only half the job, Porpentina."
"Yes, that’s experience taught me." Together, they kindled a new energy field in the main quad. "It’s also taught me about faith. And wanting. And winning your own peace."
"Hmm." Minerva still looked stern, but there was a wry, humorous glint in her eye in the next lull of fight. "Anything to do with the very dashing gentleman who relieved me of command in the Quad Courtyard?"
Before Tina could answer, there were cries and whoops further below, and a great slash of gold in the sky. Tina looked up and gasped. Minerva, while keeping clear of anything so undignified as a gasp, rasped her throat. "Tina, is this a –"
"Tina! Perce!" Newt’s voice, amplified, cascaded down the stone walls as he swept a wide half-circle. He sounded positively ebullient. "You said not above this dragon – but that one’s a Hungarian Horntail! He’s a champ!"
"Merlin in Avalon," Minerva muttered. She turned to Tina, lost to the warmth of reunion, and rasped her throat. "Gentleman friends, Tina?"
The Horntail dove snout first into the fray, ploughing fire as it did. The fire kindled a light, and the light struck a new perspective. She wasn’t a Seer. And neither was Percival down below, an unseen presence linked to her by that radiant trail. But at that moment, it was as if Tina had been granted night vision. She saw what she didn’t know yet would be the morning-end of night – she saw daylight in Dorset and a house with its windows flung open to it, she heard the sound of bees and Rolf’s laughter in the bloom of Spring, and indoors, talking over old times and a cup of tea, she saw the three of them sitting close together with a Kneazle on each lap.
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
It would be the end of the journey, their unexpected, incredible journey.
And it would be nothing like an end.
[Thanks to my meme commenters! I'll be back to link to the cleaned-up version on AO3]