A/N: Okay. So. This is my first published Fantastic Beasts fanfic. There was a writing competition this Spring, organised by Finnish libraries, to write a Harry Potter fanfic. I wrote this one (in Finnish of course) and it was selected to the top 5. So yay me. The reason I tell you this is because it has been published on the internet before, and I just want you to know that I'm not stealing someone else's fic.

Also, I don't know if I still have to say this, but it does include SPOILERS for the Crimes of Grindelwald.

Also also, English isn't my first language, and I do not have a beta, but this has been ran through Grammarly. Still, I apologise any and all mistakes that I surely have made.

Disclaimer: Characters and their stories don't belong to me. I'm just playing with them.

The Frost

Leta had always hated crowds, the stifling heat, cramped space, noises and fuss. It brought back to her mind the noises and fuss of that night when she was sitting on a lifeboat and people were screaming and there was a bright feathered distress rocket pouring down the night sky. She stepped out from the Leaking Cauldron to the Diagon Alley and watched down to the serpentine cobblestone road. The crowd and the bams and booms of the spells and the colourful blinking advertisements and the screams and cries of the children made the ground rock under her feet, and all she wanted to do was turn on her heels and run right back to her room and be alone. Or with one safe, familiar person. There was just one person who she really missed. Two, she corrected herself quickly, and told herself that it was because she didn't have to miss Theseus because she already had Theseus. If Theseus was here, he'd hold her hand and lead her through the crowd to Flourish and Blotts. If Theseus was here, he'd be her benchmark, her life jacket in this roaring sea. But Theseus had left early in the morning to take care of some business. He had kissed her quickly on the cheek and told her he'd meet her on Newt's interview. Newt. Leta's heart fluttered like the first butterfly of the cold Spring of the thought. Like a butterfly that would live just one day, because that's exactly how it would go. She's meet Newt and then it would be over. Newt would leave to France or Fiji or Finland, anywhere Far away from her, whereas she would stay in London with Theseus and join the Ministry.

Flourish and Blotts was already half full, although it would take another thirty minutes for the interview to begin. Leta wished she'd left later. The stressed-looking witch at the door stopped her.

"Name", she said roughly.

"Pardon?"

"Name. You can only enter if you're on the list."

"On the list?"

No one had mentioned any list. Leta had thought that anyone could go and listen. Magizoology had never been a crowd-pleaser, most of the magizoologist weren't even largely known. Not like it had ever stopped Newt to find them. Maybe things had changed since what happened in New York.

"Do you have that name?" the witch snapped.

"Lestrange", she said. "Leta."

She noticed how the witch's eyebrows raised, and even though she said nothing, Leta knew what she was thinking, what everyone thought when they heard that name, and she felt heavy like she'd just raised from the water. It took so long for the witch to find the name that Leta thought that maybe it wasn't there in the first place, maybe Newt had left her out, and a cold wind blew right through her.

"Ah, here it is. Theseus Scamander and Leta Lestrange. You may go to the back."

"To the back?"

"To the backroom", the witch said impatiently and gestured for Leta to move on so she could check in the people behind her. "Mister Scamander is waiting for you."

So Theseus was already here. Relief washed over her like a tidal wave, followed by another; disappointment. She didn't know which feeling was stronger. She walked unsurely across the shop to the backroom door. It was ajar, but she still knocked. The buzz in her ears was so loud that she wasn't sure if she heard 'come in' or not, so she pushed the door open.

Relief, but not because of the reason she had thought. 'Mister Scamander' had never been the right term to describe Newt, so she had assumed it would refer to his older brother. But Theseus wasn't there, and Leta found herself to be alone with Newt. She'd recognise him anywhere, his large feet, his messy red hair, his always a bit awkward posture as he leaned forward like ready to run, his head bent down. He was familiar to her in every way, even after all those years of departure and bitterness, when he hated her for not taking the blame and she hated him for not answering to her owls. He was familiar in every way possible, and she still knew exactly what he'd say to her and how'd his voice would sound and how he'd refuse to look at her in the eye and how he'd never, ever tell her what he really thought about her and Theseus.

She tried to remember when she had last seen Newt, let alone been alone with him, and it must have been years ago. At Hogwarts, it had been at Hogwarts, and it was December and freezing cold and Newt was walking away from her and she had been thinking how wrong it was that the last thing she'd see of him would be his back. Newt was standing with his back at her now as well, and she thought that maybe she hadn't been invited in and she should knock again, but she couldn't move. It was then that Newt turned around and saw her, and their eyes met for a fleeting second and her heart skipped a beat.

"Hello, Newt", she said as the silence started to feel too long, too painful to bear.

"Leta", he answered. And after a pause, he added: "I believe congratulations are in order", and, as she didn't answer, he said: "On your engagement."

She looked at the ring on her finger, the one that Theseus had given to her even before she had said yes. It still surprised her to see it there. She had never thought that someone would want to marry her, that anyone could actually love her that much, despite her name. No one but Newt.

"Thank you."

And the silence between them stretched and she wished someone would walk in, she wished they could be alone, just the two of them, and no one would ever come in, she wished she could say something, to explain, but what was there to say, to explain, what she hadn't written to him already a thousand times?

"And I think I should congratulate you", she then hurried to say. "On your book. I am so proud of you."

"Thank you", Newt said to her shoulder.

"I heard that you were in New York", she said, and her eyes met the case, and she smiled, because it was The Case, the one she had sent to him when he turned seventeen, hoping, in vain, that it would finally break the months' long silence.

"News travels fast", he said.

"So it's true then", she said and nodded towards the case. "You have creatures in there."

He nodded but said nothing.

"Can I see?"

"Of course."

Newt stepped closer to the suitcase and opened the locks. Immediately Leta could hear a croak and swishing from inside the suitcase. She was itching from excitement and took a step closer. Newt opened the case and Leta, who was waiting to climb in to see everything Newt had in there, saw the picture of a beautiful young witch cut from the newspaper fastened to the lid of the case. Her heart froze up, and now she wished Theseus would come already because she felt that she might suffocate if he didn't. It was wrong to feel like this, and she knew it. She shouldn't think that Newt belonged to her, but that's what she thought nonetheless. Newt belonged to her just as much as she belonged to Newt, and it was wrong because she should belong to Theseus. The ring on her finger was proof of that. She belonged to Theseus, and still, she envied the witch whose picture Newt carried with him.

"Who is she?" she asked, pointing at the picture. Newt's ears turned pink and he cleared his throat.

"Tina Goldstein", he answered. A silence. It must be something grand because Newt didn't say anything more. There was a time when they had talked about anything and everything, but now Newt hardly said two words together. Or maybe it was because of all those years during which they hadn't spoken at all, during which she had promised herself to another.

"How is Theseus?" Newt asked, and she knew he knew.

"He's fine."

"Good", Newt nodded. "I'm glad. I'm glad that you have found someone who makes you happy."

You make me happy, she thought, but didn't say it. Instead she said: "Theseus is kind to be." And wished she wouldn't cry.

"Oh, you're already here", a voice behind her said, and she blinked rapidly. "You better close that case, Newt. There's no reason to take a risk that something escapes to Diagon Alley. You get in trouble with the Ministry."

Leta noticed Newt was smiling as he closed the case and locked it. Leta turned around and smiled at her fiancé. There was warmth in Theseus's eyes, but it wasn't quite enough to melt the frost from her heart.

"The reporter wants to take a picture before the interview", Theseus said and gestured to the wizard that stood behind him a camera in his hands.

"Yeah, it would be great to get both of the Scamander brothers", the reporter said. Theseus took Leta's hand, but it felt like a wrong hand. They moved to stand on a line behind the desk, Leta between the brothers. Theseus looked straight at the camera like a man who's used to being taken pictures of. Newt was standing with his eyes focused on the floor, and Leta let go of Theseus's hand and moved closer to Newt, reached to squeeze his arm lightly.

"How is Dougal?" she whispered. Newt turned to look at her, rarely straight into her eyes, and even gave her the smile that once was meant to her but now belonged to the witch whose picture he had in his suitcase. The smile grasped her heart, and it started to beat painfully hard. Of envy or yearning or love, she didn't know, didn't care to know, because whatever it was, at least the ice had started to melt. They both turned to look at the camera.

A flash lightened up the room.