mythrielofsolitude replied to your post: We’re going to try something to get me writing...
Bowtie
Newt glances in the bookshop mirror, giving Tina a nervous half-smile that looks somewhat closer to a grimace. She’s never seen him at a signing event before, but she’s not surprised to find that he doesn’t enjoy them. “I’m helpless with the bowtie today, I’m afraid,” he observes, fumbling with the wrinkled ends of it. “Can’t get it to sit right.”
“Do you want me to…?” Tina fights a blush. A wand would work perfectly well. She’s seen him use it herself outside the Blind Pig.
“Er, yes, that would be—“ Newt breaks off, swallowing as she steps forward and brushes his hands away from his messy bowtie.
“Father taught us,” Tina explains, trying to distract herself from the way her fingers keep grazing his skin and the fact that their faces are scant inches apart. “His father was a no-maj.” She smiles softly. “He refused to tie his tie with magic.”
Newt hums, the vibration of it filling her with with cozy warmth.
“There,” she finally says, evening out the ends.
She looks up and nearly startles to find his eyes on hers. Newt can be surprising like that, holding eye contact when she least expects it. “Thank you.” He looks away. “You’ll come in and sit with me, won’t you? That is, the tie might come undone, you see, and…”
Tina brushes a strand of hair from his forehead before she can consider what’s come over her today. “I’d love to.”
He smiles, and this time she thinks as her stomach flutters, it reaches to his kind and bright eyes.
