His Only || Newt Scamander

Warning: Fraud Risk

A soft knock dampened the door, something that normally brought unwelcomed news. Adelaide, nonetheless, gave a curt response and continued to scratch at the schedules before her.

Bunty quietly popped her head in, her hair as unruly as ever. It appeared she'd attempted to tie it up into the resemblance of a hairstyle, but the bows and bands were quickly consumed by her frazzled curls.

"Hello, dear... I - I've got another letter for you. A lot of questions were asked about you today."

Anna gave a stiff nod, dipping her quill into a dark inkwell – it was the subtlest form of acknowledgement she could give.

Bunty knew it as much as this routine had been a familiar one, "I know you're very busy with your work, but perhaps you could spare a piece of parchment to reply?" Her attempts at formal conversation were always in vain, but she had to report back with some kind of effort.

The tiny pulses of kindness within Anna that tried to make their presence known urged her to respond with less brashness.

"Thank you, Bunty. You can put it with the others."

She shouldn't have held her breath, but Bunty turned her eyes down at yet another attempt failed. And she was to return to Newt with another night of bad news. It was as if her feet were sinking deeper into quicksand, slowly dragging her deeper within her own lies. It was about too deep to turn back on – a conflict that didn't appear with a remedy to behold.

Well, except for coming out with the truth; the complete truth. It was a staggering wonder that Anna wasn't exposed to the city enough to know whom in actuality was engaged to whom.

"You've got quite a pile started here."

The pile in question, Bunty knew, was stacked with letters of apology and reconciliation by Newt.

"As I've said, I'm very..."

"Busy, yes, I know. I can't imagine how tense a position in the medical field would be," Bunty replied, tiptoeing over to the dresser of accumulated unopened letters; sure enough they each had the scrawl of Newt Scamander.

"It is difficult, but also very rewarding." Anna was beginning to get sidetracked from her simple work. It was plain to her that she was using the most ridiculously mundane excuses to keep herself busy – the schedules in her hand at the moment were actually just copies of the final draft – each now with different colors and fonts.

It was getting to the point that she was ahead of even the Chief in terms of paperwork and research projects. Her serum for deflecting deadly Nundu breath was coming along swimmingly.

Although, Bunty needn't know she was faking all her strict hospital labor as a distraction to handling her present situation.

"You know, I've got some treacle tart warming in the oven..." It was clear that the jumpy red head was attempting something she'd planned for in the last while, "I was rather hoping you'd – you'd join me for a slice."

It was almost as if a small pang coursed through Anna's chest; something she hadn't felt in a long time – was it the sudden longing to be in another's company?

"I wasn't sure if you liked whipped cream or ice cream more so I picked up both on my way home. I don't think you have much treacle tart in America, but I'm sure you'll like it as much as any pie."

Another bit of guilt struck her, remembering the sweet scents of Jacob baking in her kitchen. If she would've known what treacle tart was, Jacob was the man that would've introduced it to her.

"I can't say I've ever had it before." It felt good to put down the writing quill, "And it might shock you to know that when I say I have rather the sweet tooth."