The memory of the inexplicable hatred you had towards Newt when you first arrived at the glade is still a fresh memory in your memory. You hated his sarcasm and the stupid smile on his lips, and the shape of his eyes, and his stupid dirty blonde hair and his weird British accent.

Who would have thought, right? Now, with the bonfire behind you a few meters away and the dark sky full of stars, you were sitting on his lap, giving him multiple kisses on the face.