can't let go [newt scamander x leta lestrange]

one

     This stone dome might be beautiful, but it was a tomb all the same. And it might soon be theirs, too. Blue flames licked at their heels, weighed them down, threatened to push them into the cold stone. They would burn.

     For a moment, Newt and Theseus were certain they would. There was no way outfor them, not out of this. No one would come for them. Those aurors that had come with his brother had either chosen flight, or they had chosen Grindelwald instead.

     Their shoulders pushed against each other as the brothers lay side by side, wands raised, fighting off the spell the most powerful dark wizard of their time had cast.

     Protego Diabolica, to cast down one's enemies.

     Suddenly, however, Grindelwald's focus shifted, away from the one remaining auror fighting the flames, fighting him, away from the man who had him revealed in New York. The flames succumbed, and the weight they had cast down on them vanished.

Theseus turned his head to look at his brother, and Newt nodded. They sat up and scanned their surroundings briefly. Something must have grabbed Grindelwald's attention, something more important than the two of them. What they found made both of their hearts stop.

     It was Leta who stood against him, and it was Grindelwald approaching her slowly, almost carefully. He was talking. His lips were moving. His voice echoed off the walls all around them. But his words didn't reach them, not as worry–blank fear–had overtaken both of them.

As one they rose to their feet. Theseus was moving in an instant. He was the one fighting the flames, trying to push to his fiancée, to Grindelwald himself if he had to, while Newt remained glued to the spot.

     He could feel the panic grow within, could feel his heart race and his hands grow slick with sweat. His breaths came short and heavy, and not a sound reached his ears. Not even the sound of his own brother's screams as he fought the flames.

Newt's knuckles turned white as he gripped his wand with the one, his dear suitcase with the other hand. All he saw was her. Leta. Standing straight, standing proud. Against a man who would kill her without remorse, without remembrance and would forget her name as soon as he turned his back.

     Newt's heart broke then, as he realized that she would die. That he would have to watch the light seep from her eyes, would feel her body grow cold. Leta would die.

     He knew why he had come here, knew he had convinced Tina how he had let go of Leta long ago, how she was but an old friend. And so he had truly convinced himself. But he realized then that he had lied to her, to himself.

He didn't know why or how, but he swore he could see every moment they had shared flash before his eyes. Reality seemed to fade away as the past took its place. And he realized he hadn't let go of Leta Lestrange like he thought he'd had.

     Students were returning to Hogwarts, all those who had a home and a family to go back to during their break. Leta hadn't, so she had stayed, just like she always did. She had spent her time alone. It brought her peace, in away. There had been no girls around to push her around, no one to test her patience, no one to get herself into trouble. But it was so lonely, too.

It was over now, however. They had all come back, and so had Newt, the incredibly kind boy who had taken to her one day, who hadn't cared what the others called her, what they said about her.

     He had grown, she noticed, even as he stood before her with his head bowed, looking down at the suitcase he held in one hand. She smiled at him all the same. She was happy to have him back. "Hello, Newt," she smiled at him.