Chapter 38

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       Newt groaned and sleepily blinked open his eyes. For a second, all he wanted to do was to close them and go back to sleep again, but then he realized something wasn't right. He wasn't in his shed, nor in his room. The Magizoologist knitted his brow together in confusion as he recognized the living room. 

       He was lying on the couch, tucked underneath a striped green blanket, which smelled vaguely familiar, though he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Newt felt another jolt of surprise as his gaze landed in Tina, who was curled up in a nearby armchair, snoring softly. He realized that it was her blanket he was currently wrapped up in, and his ears burned. 

       Why am I here?

       His brain was muddled with confusion, and he couldn't remember what has happened last night, either. Newt hazily remembered going to The Blind Pig, but everything else after that was shrouded in a fog. 

       He watched Tina as she slept, and wondered why she wasn't in her own room. The armchair didn't look all too comfortable. The brunette mumbled something in her sleep, but it was indiscernible to Newt, though he thought heard his name. Smiling lightly, he turned into his side to see her more clearly, tugging the blanket snuggly around himself.

       I really ought to get up, Newt thought. And find out why I'm sleeping on the  couch. It'd probably be a good idea to ask about why Tina's here, too.

       But he couldn't bring himself to leave the couch. Newt felt quite content with watching Tina sleep, and a lull of peace and quiet almost made him close his own eyes again. Suddenly, as if she could sense if watching her, Tina stirred and her eyes blinked open. 

       "You're awake," she murmured sleepily.

       "Yeah, erm about that..." Newt began. "What in the name of Paracelsus am I doing here?"

       Tina yawned, which was followed by a tinkling laugh. "You got drunk last night," she told him.

       "Sorry?" Newt said, sure that he hadn't heard her right.

       "You got drunk last night," she repeated.

       His remembrance of The Blind Pig suddenly made sense. "I...got drunk?" he asked weakly, although it was more of a statement rather than a question.

       "A bit tipsy, yes. You had a lot of Dragon's Fire. Despite my warnings," Tina added drily.

       "So that's why I'm sleeping on the couch?" he said.

       "Uh-huh, I had to Apparate you back last night," she informed. 

      Newt let this bit of information sink in. Never before in his life had he gotten drunk, and he sincerely hoped that he didn't make a fool of himself, or anyone else either, for that matter. "Did I – I mean to say, how drunk was I?"

       He felt like he was pelting Tina with a relentless flow of questions, but he had a dozen more racing through his mind. Why had she stayed with him? How come she didn't go back to The Blind Pig once she'd dropped him off? And why had she given him her blanket?

       "Drunk enough to not know what you were saying," Tina said with a wry smile.

       Alarm flew through Newt. "What did I say?" he inquired urgently. 

       Merlin's Beard, I hope I didn't say anything embarrassing.

       For some reason, this made Tina blush. "Oh, nothing important," she said offhandedly. "Just a random jumble of things that didn't really make sense."

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