Chapter Text
“So… how was it?”
Tina dumped her bag to the floor beside their sofa and threw herself into the pile of pillows beside Bunty. “They accepted my proposal. Picquery also assigned her assistant to be my advisor,” she sighed. “What are you doing?” she said as she glanced at Bunty.
Bunty looked at her and took her hand off her hair. She took her phone and showed Tina her edited selfie. In that picture, she was brunette and her hair was up in two rolls on the sides of her head. “Do you think I’ll look good as redhead Leia or should I dye my hair?” she hesitated before adding, “Should I do slave Leia?”
“You’re cosplaying? What for?” asked Tina as she grabbed a handful of spicy chips. Today had been a physically and emotionally exhausting day. Her back was sore, her eyes were bloodshot red, her mouth was busy munching those chips.
She barely slept last night. Tina was wide awake like an owl with three cups of Americano on her desk— finishing her damn proposal— and then off to fill her morning shift. She started to dream about a good shower and the soft feeling of her IKEA duvet. Ah, the bed. Her sanctuary.
“The costume party! Next month?” she shot her “don’t-you-remember?” gaze to Tina. Eventually, Bunty let out a deep sigh when Tina just stared at her blankly. “So who’s the lucky assistant that has to work with you?”
Tina threw a few of her chips into her mouth. “It’s your crush.”
There's a weird pause that made Tina glance at Bunty. Her eyes widened. “Scamander?”
“Uh-huh.”
Her friend smiled gleefully. Bunty had been mildly crushing on Scamander since the first time he'd been in their classes. Both of them had been in Piquery’s Visual Language class two semesters ago and Scamander was there as her assistant. The class started at the deadly hour—8.30 am—and Bunty was excited enough to drag Tina out of her bed.
This info seemed to take on Bunty’s interest. “When are you going to meet him and talk about your proposal, then?” she asked while her hands were braiding her long, wavy hair.
Tina kicked the fan so it blew at her. It's warm outside, it's even warmer in their room.
The year prior was the last time they had Scamander in their class. To her, he appeared kind of boring and kind of annoying. He graded her essay once and left a ton of thoughtful comments. Like okay, maybe she needed all that feedback, but was it really necessary?
He wasn’t in her classes anymore but Tina saw him on the faculty from time to time. Now she had to meet him frequently for a semester, out of class. Not that she hated him; she would rather have only Picquery as her advisor, but the professor was way too busy.
“I still have a lot of time, my next meeting with Picquery is not until October,” she told her, still munching her chips absentmindedly. “Probably next week. I'll try to write the stuff I know and let him read all of that.”
Later, of course. Now was the time for all the sleep she'd been losing these past two days. And a cold, leftover pasta. And a shower.
“Yeah, just try not to forget it like the last time,” Bunty said. She was holding her boobs with her hands, her eyes pondering. “But really, what do you think about me in a gold bikini?”
Her week went on smoothly. Only one rock visible in her way: Graves already gave them a big assignment for the whole semester, of course. She looked at the name of his class on her phone: Interactive Media. If she could, she wouldn’t think twice about dropping the class. He would not even let them drink water in his class.
Nagini just came back from Paris a few days ago; she skipped her first days of the term. That girl looked paler than usual, despite coming back from a summer holiday. Although she was almost as pale as the moonlight, it went well with her dark lips. They were sitting next to each other in the library, working with their laptops, whispering words. “So now you’re starting your dissertation?”
“I’m starting to hate it. It’s all cold sweat and shivers. Why did I choose that topic? What if I can’t finish it?”
Nagini moved closer to her, her hand showed a bag of candy under the table. Tina took one. “Shut up. You’ll do great. Besides, I think I’m gonna need another semester, just like Bunty.”
“Because of your failed class?”
She sighed. “I’m a failure. I don’t even feel like to draw. Did you know that Credence could paint the same landscape again and again and they would love it every time? Meanwhile, apparently, my latest one was ‘bland and boring’.”
“The naked one?” Tina took another candy from her. “It's great! It was so sensual without being sexual.”
“That’s the idea!” she said with a slight furious tone. “But… just forget it. Bunty also told me that you got Scamander as your advisor. Have you met him?”
“I haven’t. Why are you all so excited about this? What is special about this?”
“I’m not. I just can’t forget it since Bunty basically screamed that out to me,” Nagini pulled out her old Wacom tablet and plugged the cable to her laptop. “Ask him. Before you forget it all again like last semester.”
Tina stared at her when Nagini took out the pen. “Stop bringing up last semester,” she said defensively. “Also didn’t you just say you don’t feel like drawing?”
“I don’t have a choice. I have to do what I have to do, which is a commission, or no food for a week,” she pointed her pen to Tina. “Ask him now.”
Annoyed, Tina muttered disagreement under her breath, but she lazily texted Scamander just like Nagini asked.
“Done,” Tina showed her phone to Nagini.
She looked away from her mermaid sketch. “Picquery gave you his phone number and not his email? Oh look, he texted back!”
Tina glanced at Nagini. “You know what I want in life? To be a professor and reply to my students' long-ass, proofread emails with a simple, uncapitalized ‘no’ or ‘k’ .”
“For someone who put a lot of thoughts on my essay, I was hoping he would use more punctuation in his texts,” Tina told Nagini as she stole another candy.
Nagini didn't break her gaze from the screen. “I googled him, you know. Mostly because I never get him in my class and I wonder why Bunty fancies him.”
“Anything intriguing then?” Tina asked, seemingly uninterested.
“He’s like, a well-known street photographer in the community,” Nagini told her. “Check his blog out, it looks great! I see now why Picquery assigned him to help you.”
Now she was a bit interested. And worried. “Really? I never knew about that. I wonder why Bunty never told me about this. Or Picquery.”
“Newton Scamander. The bloke once won a national contest, Tina. Your dissertation is in good hands,” she grinned to her.
She was too nervous to check on Scamander's blog.
Tina sipped a bit of her favourite rosé from her cup. She sat on the sofa, re-reading her abstract over and over. Was it a weird topic? Would Scamander sneer at her topic? Was this decent enough to show him?
After reading the introduction for the sixth time, she let out a frustrated groan, stood up, and put her jacket on. It’s 9 and the café is only ten minutes away. Better early than late. She was nervous as hell as she gathered all her papers, clipped it, and put it in her bag. What could go wrong, though? She took her keys from the table and marched towards the door.
Her soul left her body when Bunty slammed the door open while she put her shoes on.
“Dammit, Bunty! You could’ve killed me!”
Bunty grinned widely as she raised a bag to her face. “McNuggets!” she exclaimed, but then she stared at Tina as Bunty let herself in. “Where are you going? You’re seeing someone without telling me?”
“I’m about to meet Scamander.”
“At this hour?” her eyes widen, her eyebrows raised.
Tina shoved her other leg into the boots. “He gave me two choices, at this hour or tomorrow morning. You know I can’t do mornings.”
Bunty’s eyebrows could actually take off and fly if she tried to raise them any higher. “Okay, good luck then. Tell him I said hello,” she smiled cheekily.
The Siren’s Tale is a 24-hours coffee shop filled with sleep-deprived undergraduates and their laptops. Tina arrived early, but she could see that he was already there. She recognized him from his worn out dark grey overcoat (that he wore religiously since she first saw him) and his reddish, messy hair. He was sitting on the bar stool facing the wall beside the window.
She asked Chastity to make her a decaf while throwing glances at him. His overcoat collar was up, covering his neck. His fingers were tapping on the table as he took notes from a book. His glasses kept slipping down and he kept pushing them back to his nose. After throwing her change into the tip jar, she walked towards him. He was so absorbed in his work, that he hadn’t realized her presence yet.
“Um, Mr Scamander?” Tina asked hesitatingly.
He glanced at her, his head still bent down. It was when he recognized her, he looked up and smiled. “Ah. You’re—“
“Tina Goldstein.”
His smile grew as he closed his book, put his phone down, and took his glasses off. His eyes looked tired but his gaze didn't. Scamander moved a bit in his place and gestured her to sit. Tina put her coffee on the table and took the stool on his left.
He smelled good, despite the weary appearance. Suddenly, her nervousness— in which at this time had nothing to do with her dissertation topic— kicked back in. Did she just sit too close to him? She could even feel his body heat. Tina moved her stool away.
“So, Tina,” he spun towards her, his hair fell messily in front of his right eye. She held the urge to sweep his hair away. “Tell me about your project. I heard it’s about advertisement?”
“Oh, yeah— it’s…,” Tina pulled some paper from her bag. “Do I need to show you this first or...?”
He looked down to the paper in her hands. “May I?” He asked as she handed him the papers. “Thanks, Tina. But please, tell me about your project, too.”
Tina glanced at the paper in Scamander’s hand nervously. Her throat felt dry.
“It’s… it’s about photography in advertising,” she started. Scamander glanced at her, a slight smile on his face. “The usage of photography in advertisements is... not uncommon anymore. We use photography to sell the products, so it’s very different from the—um—fine art photography and photojournalism.”
She took a sip of her coffee. He looked at her, waiting.
“But also, um, we can see some companies trying to sell their products by using the end result of photojournalism. Whether if it’s—the very common—newspaper or magazines that actually has real photojournalism as their content or,” he glanced at her as she raised her voice, “Companies that need to steal their buyer’s empathy through their ads, like some charity businesses.”
Tina stopped. She really abused the word photojournalism, didn’t she? Scamander was nodding, his eyes focused on her papers. She tried to remember anything else she might have forgotten to tell him.
“Do you like photography? Why are you choosing this topic?” he asked her, eyes still glued to her papers. His hand ran across his messy hair, swiping it off from his face.
“I do like photography, yes. I won’t say that I’m... proficient at it,” she let out a little laugh. “But I appreciate and enjoy it.”
She paused for a moment before adding, “I was about to choose another topic about, um, poster design for remake movies. Because... you know, how they choose to promote the same— ” she made a gesture with her fingers, “—movies in a different decade. Some were photographed but some were illustrated... but they decided that it’s more for the graphic design major, not advertising major.”
Did she really need to talk this much?
He glanced at her. “Ah, yes. It’s an advertisement for movies, but the politics of the elements like the layout, typography, and colours make it much more suited for your friends from graphic design. So you ended up with the topic of...,” he read her paper, “ How photojournalism affects people through advertisement ?’
“Yes, Mr Scamander,” she gulped her coffee nervously after he read her topic out loud. It didn't sound impressive compared to some of her friends’ topic.
His head moved to look at her, the corner of his mouth went up. There was a flash moment when they just gazed at each other. “Please, Tina, call me Newt. Think of this as an, er, informal discussion. Also, I think Seraphina— Professor Picquery— already mentioned that this is a mutual assignment, that it’s okay for me to ask for your help too, for my project?”
To be honest, Tina didn’t really remember about that part Picquery told her until Scamander asked her about it. “She did…, Newt .”
“Great, then. You do have a camera, right?” he asked offhandedly.
She nodded as she took another sip of her coffee. The glasses dangled from his loose t-shirt caught her eyes. It gave her a glimpse of his chest hair.
Pull yourself together, cupcake.
“Good. So, I have some experience with photojournalism and street photography. I probably could help you with that bit.”
Tina nodded again; she felt like one of those bobble-head dolls. Of course he had to have some experience, because he was a professional. And yet she wasn’t even sure how to manually create a double exposure.
Scaman—sorry, Newt sipped his coffee too and continued, “As for how it affected people, I think you should search for more help. I could help you, but not much.”
“I’d be so grateful for any help..., Newt,” she muttered. Wow, that felt strange. She had spent a year referring him with his last name. “Thank you so much. Do you have anything you want to say about my abstract or the draft of anything that I wrote there?”
He inhaled as his gaze went back to the papers. He looked at it, considering it, and said, “I think I need time for this. Is it okay if I take this home?”
“Sure,” she replied. He was clearly going to have those papers scribbled with inks.
“Probably a few days,” he told her. His eyes drifted off her before he asked, “How’s your schedule, any side jobs?”
“Here.”
“Sorry, what?”
“I work here,” Tina said.
That stole his attention. Newt’s eyes widen but then his brow furrowed like he tried to remember something. “Really? How could I never saw you before? I’m here for like 4 days a week in the evening.”
She could ask the same question. He never spent his night here then, unlike those animation students with deadline chasing after them. Tina smiled. “I got the morning shift. Always the morning shift.”
His expression changed into an Ah, I get it. He moved on his stool, looking almost kind of expecting. “So nothing after 6 pm?”
Tina thought about it. Her social life was dead, buried under the ground. Practically nothing except weekly girls night with Bunty and Nagini. “Mostly nothing, yeah.”
“Great. I’ll text you when I’m finished. How about my studio, for the next time? I have loads of resources that would probably be useful for you. You could also help me with my next project.”
His studio. “Sounds good,” she told him after gulping the last drops of her coffee.
Newt grinned at her. He was less annoying to talk to privately. Also less pouting and more smile. For now, at least. His demeanour might change later after he reads her work.
He fidgeted with his phone before putting it in his jeans pocket. “Great, then. I think it’s good so far. Anything you want to ask?”
They sat silently as Tina tried to think. Surprisingly, there was nothing on her mind. Like she was suddenly forgetting everything she have ever learned. “Oh. Um, nothing, for now.”
“Want to go home, then? Sorry I asked you to meet me at this hour,” he said, his body returned to face the wall. Newt pushed her papers into his bag, together with the thick-looking book.
He took Tina’s cup, stacked it with his cup, and threw it to the bin on their way to go out. He held the door for her, also for two girls who hurried after them before walking towards Tina.
“Main dorm area?” he asked her and Tina realized that their steps were synchronized.
“Oh no, no, you don’t need to walk me,” she turned to him. She gestured to the buildings on their left side. “It’s okay, it’s not that far— “
“My place is at the end of your road. We’re going in the same direction,” he said flatly.
Oh. How stupid of her.
The next eight minutes of her life was… awkward. Newt tucked both hands in his jacket’s pockets. For the first three minutes, Tina realized that they walked close enough because she kept bumping into his arm. She tried to put more space between them but oh, he smelled so nice it made her hate herself. Newt seemed like he wasn’t bothered with anything. His eyes were staring at the ground with furrowed brows on his face as if he was thinking real hard. The only small talk he made was just asking her to remind him of her last name. The silence blanketed the two as they kept walking.
When they turned on the intersection and Tina could see her building, she nearly ran into the gate. She looked back and saw Newt smiling.
“Thank you, Mr Sca— Newt.”
He chuckled, his eyes were up and wandering around the front of the building before gazing back to her. “I’ll let you know when I finish it.”
“Yeah,” she nodded. Newt smiled, turned his back to her, and walked away.
Tina stared at him for a couple seconds before entering her building. Her lips turned into a smile as she walked through the hall. She took her phone out and changed Scamander's name.