#theseusscamanderoneshot

[retvenkos]

time // theseus scamander

Harry Potter: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them - Theseus Scamander x Platonic!Reader, Angst to Fluff

A/N: so i just really wanted some angsty theseus, and this is what i came up with. i actually really like what i have, here, and i kind of want to expand on the idea. let me know what you think! should it be a friends to lovers, slow burn?

Summary: You had taken care of Theseus Scamander after many a heartbreak, but none of them had ever left him quite as destitute as Leta Lestrange. Just three weeks ago they had been engaged. Then you blinked and he was left to cancel venues and file away invitations that would never be sent. Your heart ached for him.

“Scourgify,” you muttered the cleaning spell quietly as you walked through the apartment, careful to not make a sound. The light emanating from your wand painted your surroundings in melancholy shades of blue. You walked through the familiar surroundings deftly until you came to the lightswitch you were looking for. You flipped it on, and the apartment filled with a warm, orange light.

The man you were looking for sat on his couch, his usual composure gone, his hands cradling his head and messing his curls.

“Theseus…”

“So you didn’t believe me when I said I had it together?” There was no bitterness to his tone. Just pain; pure, undiluted pain.

“You had the entire Ministry fooled, but I know you better than that.”

You had taken care of Theseus Scamander after many a heartbreak, but none of them had ever left him quite as destitute as Leta Lestrange. Just three weeks ago they had been engaged. Then you blinked and he was left to cancel venues and file away invitations that would never be sent. Your heart ached for him.

This one would take some time.

You rounded the couch slowly, your eyes assessing the situation, taking stock of the damage he had inflicted upon himself. Bottles of Firewhiskey… boxes of wedding plans…

Then you saw it.

His vows.

It was always like Theseus to be prepared. It didn’t surprise you that he would already have them drafted, waiting to be added onto at the last moment.

You cleaned up around the shrine he had created, picking up bottles, straightening weddings favors and possible guest lists while leaving a wide circle around the parchment that had caused his spiral into ruin. His eyes never seemed to leave it, the blue irises searching it as though looking for some way to identify who had written it. It was almost as if the Theseus Scamander that sat before it now couldn’t recognize the words that had once been his own.

“I really was going to pack it all up”—his hands fell to his sides—“but some of it isn’t mine to give away.”

You thought about pointing out that ghosts can’t pack up their old belongings and that leaving things for the dead to find could be dangerous, but you kept quiet. A battle with a grieving man is always one you’d lose.

Besides, Theseus was a seasoned soldier in battles of the heart. You doubted there was a heartbreak he didn’t know.

“You don’t have to get rid of it all, right now.” You crouched down in front of him and put a comforting hand on his knee. He stiffened beneath your touch but you didn’t pull away. “Let’s just make sure no one trips on broken glass.”

He stood with a laboured sigh and you breathed in relief. The first steps were always the hardest. Theseus could push himself through anything as long as he could stand. From the moment he had lost Leta he fell beneath the crashing waves of sorrow. This was him coming up for air.

--

“Theseus is lucky to have you as a friend, (Y/n). I don’t think he’s eaten in weeks.” The secretary smiled at you sweetly as she let you pass. You nodded at her as you made your way deeper into the Ministry, through doors that were supposed to be for staff only.

The Ministry of Magic was a fast moving train. If you hesitated for just a moment, you were off schedule and left far, far behind. Theseus was good with time. He could break it up into sections, parsing everything out so that he had enough of it for everything. He always had a watch on his wrist, ready to take action at just the right moment. Everything in his life was at the right time, right on schedule.

Grieving did not have a timetable.

Theseus made time for it, anyway, trying to bend it’s will to fit his life. He always had time for Leta, even in death. But grief was not as patient as she was. It didn’t understand that he had to put in extra hours or work through lunch. It arrived at his doorstep unannounced and demanded to be heard.

You knew what time meant for Theseus. You knew what grief meant to your oldest friend. You kept him on schedule. You refused to let him fall off the train.

He was sitting with grief when you found him at his desk, his hands shaking as he tried to finish a report. They were always his least favorite part of the job, but ever since Leta, it was the only thing the Ministry trusted him with.

They promised to reevaluate him after two months to see if he was ready to be back in the field. He had promised that by that time, he would be ready again.

You sat the sandwich down in front of him. He looked up at you, and you tilted your head.

He nodded. You smiled.

“I still have a month before evaluations.” He was hesitant, almost as if he thought you would laugh at the idea of him getting better before that date looming over him. He still had trouble meeting your eyes.

You waited for them to settle on you.

“You’ll be ready.” Your voice was sure and steady, filled to the brim with belief. “I promise.”

His lips twisted into something like a smile. How many days since he had last felt joy?

--

“I got you something.” You sat down next to Theseus on the worn steps of the Scamander household, a small box in your hands. Your knees knocked together in the small space. He didn’t seem to mind.

You knew that parties were still sobering for him, without Leta on his arm, and when he could, he’d remove himself from the crowd. You didn’t blame him, festivities are hard to partake in if you don’t feel like you deserve them. You also knew that if he had the option he wouldn’t have come out at all. But Newt was in town and Theseus had passed his evaluation. The Scamander family was desperate for good news and they jumped at the opportunity.

“You didn’t have to.” He was looking in the eye and it gave you hope.

“That’s what makes me such a good friend.”

He smiled where there was once laughter, and it was enough.

You watched as Theseus took his time with the small parcel, his hands thoughtful as they untied the ribbon, almost as though he was remembering a time that once was, where he opened a gift in the steps of his childhood home, knocking knees with a friend. You bumped him with your shoulder. His smile turned wistful, then, the warmth of it reaching his eyes.

“Open it,” you said, and your words were gentle with him.

He pulled a silver pocket watch out of the box, his hands ghosting over the chain, admiring the careful craftsmanship. The warm light of the Scamander home left it gleaming, the muffled ticking on the second hand filling the still air comfortingly.

He opened the top of the locket gingerly, almost as if he knew what picture you had put there. He saw it and didn’t breathe. The ticking was louder, now. You were painfully aware of his silence beside you.

“Leta…” he whispered her name, his voice trailing off and his eyes combed the picture. The way her hair fell on her brown cheek, the way her eyes glinted as though holding a secret.

His smile faltered as a tear ran down his cheek.

“It’s so she’s always with you, right on time.” Your voice was low, comforting. “She loved you, Theseus.”

He was thoughtful for a moment, the way he always was, and when the moment passed, he shut the locket, holding it in his hands like he held the world. It was a heavy burden on his shoulders.

“I think I loved Leta as much as she would allow.”

A sadness clung to him, the kind that follows acceptance.

“Then I suppose the trick is finding someone where the limit is endless.” You closed your hand over his. His eyes met yours and he nodded.

You smiled.

[retvenkos]

cold coffee // theseus scamander

Harry Potter: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them - Theseus x platonic!Reader, Theseus x Leta, angst

A/N: ha ha, did i mention angsty theseus? leta’s death just really hits hard this week, idk why.

Summary: Few knew how to take care of Theseus Scamander better than you, but looking at his blood shot eyes and shattered expression, you wondered if, for once in your life, he was beyond your saving.

Theseus’ hands shook, calloused fingers curled inward as though still holding his wand. He closed his eyes, but comforting darkness did not greet him. Instead, blue fire played against his eyelids, bright flames pushing him backward, attacking him without mercy, separating him from the one he loved most.

Leta.

Her purple dress, tattered and burning. Her eyes, steadfast and alight. Her entire being, walking away from him and igniting in the blue flames that would seal her fate.

Did it hurt? Was it over before she could register the pain? Leta had faced her crucible so young and she had learned to love the flames. Were they kind to her, at the end of things?

Theseus’ whole body was sitting on edge and when the air cracked with an apparition, he jumped. His mind immediately thought it was her, as though through some stroke of luck, she had made it out.

You stood there, a few paces in front of him, your forehead creased into disbelief and concern, your breathing still trying to catch up with you, throat still raw from your scream of grief.

Leta.

You had known her since you were young, when she was a girl and just four years younger than you, although her eyes had the weight of years beyond that. She had been aimless, then, unsure of where to go or who to become and you had given her direction. It was like having a younger sister, someone to worry over and guide, someone to encourage. 

She has looked up to you, almost. It was hard for Leta to trust anyone, let alone love and admire. It had been your joke that one day you would do something grand enough to earn her approval. She couldn’t easily give it to you now, could she?

You didn’t know what to say. What do you say to a man who isn’t a widower but grieves like one? 

One thing was for certain - it was time to leave Paris.

You stared at him, but his eyes saw past you, seeing a place that wasn’t in front of him, seeing a woman who was no longer. 

You stepped forward and gave him a hug. His body was hesitant to respond, not ready to accept your condolences. Theseus had seen enough death to know that she was gone, but he hadn’t seen enough to believe it.

Once he believed so, what would become of her? Who would his Leta be?

Your face brushed against his coat and deposited tears, there. You grasped him a little tighter and disapparated.

Crack!

You let go of Theseus and took a step backward, your shoes shuffling against the carpet of your apartment. Your dinner still sat on the kitchen counter, the food abandoned and cold after hearing news of what had happened in the search for Grindelwald. You didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

You pushed it away to make room for your first aid kit. Theseus had a few burns on him, and you knew he wouldn’t get to treating them himself.

“Come here, Theseus,” you said softly, your voice feeling oddly out of place in your throat. It wavered when you continued, “let me help.”

You worked in silence, helping him out of his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, your touches soft as you pressed a thick salve to his burned skin. You were no healer, but you did your best to fix all that you could. Few knew how to take care of Theseus Scamander better than you, but looking at his blood shot eyes and shattered expression, you wondered if, for once in your life, he was beyond your saving.

“How did you know?” His voice was raw from crying, cracked from trying to hold himself together.

"Newt and a woman apparated here. They said you hadn’t left the cemetery.” You couldn’t look at him and instead focused on cleaning up. Theseus would sleep here tonight and tomorrow everyone would make their way to Hogwarts. You weren’t sure why, but you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to ask Newt when he was here.

You were both worried over Theseus. Newt reckoned he would have stayed there the whole night if you didn’t take him away. You had always been better with comforting Theseus after something went wrong. You were the first person Newt thought to reach out to.

You wondered if he was right to do so.

“He’s going to be coming back tomorrow. He said you have to—”

“—See Dumbledore. Let him know Grindelwald got away.”

You lapsed into silence and your hands froze above the stack of blankets before you. He’d ask about Leta. Dumbledore would be the first of many to hear the news, to look at him apologetically, to mutter their condolences with pity in their tone. How would he make it through?

You grabbed the blankets and held them to your chest - you had to focus on tonight. “You can sleep in the bed.”

Theseus shook his head, still not all there, but cognitive enough to be chivalrous. “I’ll take the floor.”

“You’ll never fall asleep.”

“I won’t, anyway.”

You sighed and took a seat at the table, gesturing for him to sit down. He joined you, one hand rubbing over the other, drawing circles on his skin. “You need to sleep, Theseus. This night will never go away - you don’t need to exhaust it now.”

“What else can I do?” He considered your pained expression for a long moment, and you heard something earnest in his tone, a searching for direction. You were unsure where to lead him. Where was he, if not by her side?

“Rest.”

It’s what Leta would have wanted.

You bit back the rest of your statement, feeling the wound too fresh to be examined.

You stood and put a hand on his shoulder, his muscles tight beneath the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t think on your words for too long before standing, allowing you to lead him to the tiny bedroom where he would stay for the night.

“Take the bed, okay?”

Ho nodded, too tired to argue.

--

Newt came by in the morning, the woman from last night behind him, and another man in tow. They shuffled into your apartment with bowed heads, their expressions subdued. You allowed them in without a word, and you sat then down at the table, pouring a strong cup of coffee for all three. 

They took their mugs gingerly, as though they sensed that the grief from last night still hung thick in the air.

“(Y/n), this is Tina Goldstein and Jacob Kowalski.” Newt introduced you to your guests and you shook their hands, remarking that you wished it were under different circumstances. They agreed and you waved away their condolences when they tried to extend them.

“Theseus?” 

“He’s getting up. He got three, maybe four hours of sleep last night. I got to him shortly after you left.”

They nodded and you nursed your cup of coffee.

“How much sleep did you get?” Tina peered at you in a way that made you feel she already knew the answer.

You shook your head.

When Theseus entered the room, Newt stood. The brothers hugged, greeting each other without words. Jacob and Tina nodded at him, and you gave Theseus a cup, your hands brushing his. He took the hot drink from you with cold hands.

He didn’t drink it while the group discussed what would happen next. You watched him intensely, noticing his reluctancy to join the chatter and planning. It wasn’t like him and although you supposed he didn’t feel much like himself, it worried you.

You didn’t expect him to move on. You had expected him to push forward, like he had when he came back from the trenches of the Great War and from auror missions gone astray. Theseus had always been quick to run from grief and focus on the next task at hand.

But what could he run to - another war? Jacob had mentioned that Grindelwald spoke of another, in the future. What was ahead of him, now? Not his wedding. Not the life he had been envisioning.

What lay beyond the events he was experiencing right now? Cold coffee that he hadn’t the stomach to drink?

You gathered the mugs from the table and shrugged on a coat.

It was going to be a long train ride to Hogwarts.

“We’re headed to a school? What happens after that?” Jacob, who you had quickly realized to be a Muggle, always seemed to be searching for answers you were not sure any of you had.

“We don’t know.” Theseus’ words shook the room into silence.

“We’ll go from there,” you assured him. “That’s all we can do.”

--

Hogwarts was different from how you left it. The uniforms were slightly different and the desks were more worn. Dumbledore looked the same, though, the twinkle in his blue eyes just as bright, his smiles just as warm.

He didn’t know what had happened to Leta.

He asked and the air was sucked out of the castle.

“She was brave,” Newt was the first one to speak. Everyone was unsure of what to say. Everything felt too harsh, too final. She was gone. Dead. Behind the veil.

Dumbledore nodded and that was it.

--

“Mr. Scamander, how does it feel to have survived Gellert Gridedwald’s Paris Attack?”

The Daily Prophet still had newspapers to sell. They still had articles to write and news to report. Aurors had died. People whispered of another war. There was no escaping what had happened. There was no moving forward. Leta’s death was around every corner, hidden behind every comment Theseus faced.

“Do you have a comment for all of the families out there that lost someone?”

“Does the Office of Aurors have any leads on where Grindelwald might be now?”

“Mr. Scamander, a comment please.”

Leave him to grieve. Just five minutes to be alone. Just an hour to think. Just a day to pack away Leta’s things. Let him be.

Please.

You would handle the questions. You would lead him away from the masses, give the reporters warning glances. There was only so much you could do, but you pressed forth the way Leta always had. She had always been able to push rumors away and handle her monsters with grace. Where was she, now? 

You answered their questions as best you could.

We’re grateful to have made it out of Paris.

We are deeply sorry to those we have lost.

We are working on a few leads for Grindelwald, but there have been no major advances.

We are working as hard as we can.

When would the questions cease? There had to be an end to this heartache. There had to be a day on the horizon when things no longer hurt.

“No more questions, please.”

“But the people need to know!”

--

Theseus’ hands no longer shook. They were frozen in time, still enough to imitate death. He breathed in, his chest expanding with the effort. He exhaled and his body shook with a sob he would not allow to break through.

War.

It was all he had ever known, all he had been allowed to comprehend from very young. Death had been an acquaintance of his ever since birth, a passerby that always seemed to be where he was, an almost friend if he had the time to introduce himself.

That was no longer the case.

Death had cheated him. It had taken the one thing he loved most, the one thing he could not live without. For what? To watch him suffer? Hadn’t he seen enough? To prepare him for what was to come? He did not think he could continue without her.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed when you apparated into his apartment, the air around you crackling with foreign energy. Exhaustion seemed to pull you downward - your shoulders sunk and your head bowed, but you were there nonetheless.

Who else was going to sit with him, allowing tears to fall down his cheeks without judgement? Who else would hand him a steaming cup of coffee and put a hand on his shoulder, sitting with him until the mug no longer warmed his cold hands?

Who else would check on him in the middle of the night, their own sleep interrupted by the instinctual feeling that Theseus was awake and too proud to seek anyone out?

Leta was no longer. It could not be her.

You took off your shoes and padded towards him, kneeling down so that you could look upward and see his eyes.

They did not want to see the world that was in front of them.

“I miss her, too.”

His arms were instantly around you, his body sinking to the floor where he could hug you and not be afraid of letting go. “I can’t do this without her.” He was sobbing, his words barely even there but their sentiment too powerful and raw to not be understood.

“I know, I know.”

“What am I fighting for, if not Leta?”

You cradled his head in the crook of your neck, smoothing his hair so it would lay flat. 

“Your fighting for the person she knew you to be.”

[retvenkos]

three times // theseus scamander x leta lestrange

Harry Potter: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald - Theseus Scamander x Leta Lestrange, slight fluff and angst

requested, few changes

A/N: am i writing all the requests that involve kissing scenes to try and (hopefully) figure out how they work? maybe. also, mentions of the holidays (i tried to keep it vague!) because anon asked! i know it’s july, don’t come for me.

Summary: “I know,” Leta whispered, her eyes closing for a half moment, long lashes kissing her golden brown skin, “and I meant what I said. Love can’t change me. But I want to be loved. I want to know what that’s like.”

the three times he told her he loved her, and the one time she agreed;

one, 1916

Spare time was hard to come by, in the thick of battle. Theseus had never known so much chaos, so much fear. He couldn’t help but feel he had made the right decision, disobeying Minister Evermonde’s legislation and joining the war. Even with the help of thousands of wizards, the war did not cease. He wondered, in between air strikes and word form home, if there was ever going to be an end. One day it would come, he supposed, but was it one day after tomorrow or one day after his death? 

He did not know. He couldn’t know, no matter how many Seers predicted ends through the glimpses they saw in crystal balls. 

Did they see this destruction in their foresight? Did they see these bodies, broken and bruised? Did they see him, penning letters home in the middle of desolation, his wand at his side just in case, a rifle in his bloody hands? Did the Minister of Magic, in his comfortable office with a large desk, hear their cries as he told wizards to stand by? 

Did his friends and family know that he loved them - that he was laying down his life for a better future, a possible tomorrow? Did they know that he was fighting to save them? Merlin, he loved them and hoped that they were safe.

‘No one is innocent in this war, Mum. Not the children pulled into battle, not the men planning the attacks, not even us wizards cowering behind wrongful legislation and poorly crafted excuses. Fear has turned wizards into something terrible. As an Auror, dedicated to the safety of our world (which includes Muggles, whether the Ministry recognizes that or not), I cannot come home. I will see this war to the end. I must.’

Theseus held his family in letters; the flowy cursive of his mother, the neat penmanship of his father, Newt’s messy scrawl, and the occasional word from Leta, her letters small but loud. Their words reminded him of simpler times, days when the world was smaller, hurt was shallower, and suffering was least common. 

The war was wrapping everyone in a storm and scattering them on the wind. Where would he be thrown? How would he land? On his own two feet? On his back? His own thoughts threatened to be his undoing, so he clung to those beliefs that he could forge out of the fire.

‘I have to save these men who fight alongside me. I know their stories and their pain. These men aren’t just Muggles, they are my brothers in these trenches. I know you all will understand my bleeding heart, it’s not like it hasn’t gotten me into trouble before, Newt knows that better than anyone.’

There were times his courage left him. When he was stripped of all soul and left as flesh and bone, bleeding from wounds that would never quite heal, some scars in areas that neither medicine nor magic could reach. 

Theseus wondered what he would become after this war. How much of him would stay intact if he survived this living hell? Theseus had met men who had been in wars before. They worked with him at the Auror Office, hardened men of the world and yet jumpy and fragile from memories. Would he understand them? Or find himself to be something else completely, so distant from that humane side of himself that he no longer recognized man?

He was being pushed every which way, burned in the fires of war. He had to cling to his love; he must hold onto his principles and beliefs that paled in the face of this destruction.

‘I am sorry to have left without warning, but if Father would have known, he would have stopped me. All of you would have, but none of you would have changed my mind. I love you all too much to stand idly by.

‘I will write again as soon as I can. Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage as I always have. I do not want more days as these ones. I cannot continue to watch them come. I’m sending this to you with a bit of magic as our letters are read and censored by junior officers, but I can only send a few this way. Muggles aren’t completely daft. Stay strong and send Leta my love.

‘Theseus.’

--

two, 1921

It was dark when he returned home. Hours at the Ministry were long and taxing, enough to steal any and all daylight from his life. By the time he made it home, the rest of the world was fast asleep. Theseus entered quietly, thinking the woman inside to be dreaming, but she sat at the window in dresses of silk, her eyes glassy and sombre.

“Leta” —her name brought a smile to his lips— “I thought you would be asleep.” Theseus addressed her fondly as he set down his suitcase and shedded his coat. He sat across from her on the window seat, squeezing her shoulder as he passed. She allowed him, still lost in the seas of thought. She had been staying with him for the last week while her place was getting renovated, and in the meantime Theseus had gotten to know his friend better than before, recognizing odd behavior more often. “Is everything alright?”

Leta blinked twice, her eyes clearing and color flooding back into her brown cheeks. “Of course,” she said, “I was just...”

“Thinking. As always.”

She smiled, dipping her head in concession. There was something melancholic in the air that settled around her - deep and omnipresent, assailing her against her own volition when she least expected it.  

It reminded Theseus of that deep part of himself born from war and strife, hidden from those who passed by. Only with Leta did he bear that side of himself, that sorrow they both knew all too well.

“Are you alright?” She busied herself with fixing her skirts, smoothing out their wrinkles with care. 

“Yeah,” Theseus sighed, relaxing into the seat, “I’ve only had to deal with the idiocy in the Auror Office, rather than the entire Ministry, today.”

“So, a calm day, then.”

He nodded, his lips quirking into the smallest of smiles. “And you, Leta? How was Travers?”

“Besides his usual, terrible self?” Theseus scoffed at her comment and she continued, “Being his assistant is simultaneously the best and worst thing you’ve ever convinced me to do.”

“Worse than my convincing you and Newt to set the Erkling in the Hogwarts greenhouses loose?” Theseus raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes mischievous. “They eat children, you know.”

“I should know better than you! The bloody thing bit me! I still have a scar!” Leta held up her arm, pushing back her sleeves to show him a scar on the inside of her forearm, faded from time, but present all the same.

Theseus kissed it better and she swatted his shoulder.

“At least you’re feeling better.” Theseus smiled contentedly, his eyes searching her face for any lingering sorrow he might find. It was always there, if he looked hard enough. He had only ever seen it go away when she was with Newt, talking about the humanity of creatures. There were no monsters, he would always say, only blinkered people. 

“What are you thinking about now?”

“Huh?”

Leta was staring at him, her intense eyes alight with something Theseus couldn’t put his finger on. There was always something with Leta that he didn’t understand, something that no doubt came from her shrouded memories. Her own war that no one else knew. He often wondered how he was supposed to reach her when part of her was still lost at sea, turning in tempests he could not locate. He would be damned before he stopped trying, though. That much he knew.

“What’s on your mind, Theseus?”

“You,” he answered honestly. Her lips parted in shock, but her eyebrows furrowed in thought, “and Newt. You two were always quite the pair. I daresay you got along with him better than I did, try as I might.”

Leta sighed, her head shaking slightly, “Newt can love anything. Especially those things worst for him.”

For a moment, Theseus was stunned into silence. He knew she thought little of herself, despite his constant comments to the contrary, but to hear it so plain was something else. The truth was heavy on her shoulders, and only now did he see how far it had dragged her.

“Leta...”

“I’m a monster, Theseus.” Her tone was bitter cold. “You and Newt are too good to see it, but I truly am.”

“I don’t believe it.” Theseus shook his head, his voice firm if not the slightest bit angry when he spoke. “You have your secrets, Leta, but no secret can change who I know you to be.”

Then I’ve fooled you, too—”

“—Then I’ve seen the truth of who you are.” Theseus grabbed her hands, so small and smooth in his own, and looked deep into her teary eyes. “I know what it’s like to be changed into something unrecognizable. I’ve also had to move on, pretending you’re the same when you aren’t. But trust me, Leta, nothing has changed who you are at your core.”

“Theseus, please. There’s so much you don’t know.”

“Then tell me and I’ll love you through it.”

Her breath hitched in a gasp, her mind acutely aware of her hands in his, their sudden proximity, and the fire in his eyes. Theseus did not pull back in fear of his thoughts being spoken aloud. It was time she knew.

If Leta could not love herself, then Theseus would love her until she could. 

Theseus had never found someone he couldn’t save.

He had seen so much loss in his life; so much sorrow had riddled the trenches, so much pain had permeated the air, so many people passed in and out of his life, all of them laying down their lives, all of them clinging onto something to believe in. He had chosen love. He clung to it like a chlld clinging to their mother, fearful of what he would be without it. He had learned early on that love saved men. It was those men with someone to go back home to that survived their trench foot and shell shock. It was those wizards with someone to keep safe that passed the Auror training programme. It was those people who loved that made it through this harsh world.

He loved Leta. He would love her until she loved herself. Then he would love her even more.

Leta pulled her hands away from him. “I know what you’re thinking, Theseus, but you can’t save me.”

“At least let me try.”

She shook her head, standing up from the window seat, her silks tumbling from the cushion, falling around her like a waterfall. “Love can’t change me.”

Leta walked out the door, into the night, and Theseus watched her with desperate eyes. He had so much love in his heart, but none of it could save him from being alone.

--

two, 1924

Theseus came down the stairs of his childhood home and walked into the kitchen, leaning against the island as he watched his mother rolling out cookie dough, chatting with Newt. Holiday music drifted through the air, the voice of the crooner deep and soothing. It reminded him of the happiness of a lifetime ago, when Newt, Leta, and he would sled down the nearby hill all day, only coming inside to steal cookie dough and cocoa, thinking themselves quick enough to not be spotted.

So much had transpired, since; Newt and Leta had grown up, no longer the impressionable kids that used to tag along on his misadventures. They were people in their own right, now, with depths he hadn’t seen. They were older now, not as easily forgiving of his rough nature, not as aware of what happened inside of his head. 

Some things never changed, though, and a Scamander Christmas was one of them. 

“Theseus.” Newt acknowledged him, his already bent head nodding further downward, his chin almost touching his chest. “These are your favorite, aren’t they?” His younger brother looked down at the cookies their mother was cutting out - gingerbread that would be frosted with a thick buttercream icing. It was always too sweet for Newt, but Theseus would always manage to get the cookie with the thickest layer of frosting.

Theseus was grateful for his attempt at conversation. It wasn’t easy for him and Newt, anymore.

Not since the war. Not since he changed.

“You haven’t been gone so long you’ve forgotten our holiday traditions, have you?” Theseus made sure to keep his tone light, teasing. There couldn’t be any more misunderstandings between the two of them.

“Not exactly, I’ve—”

“—Only been missing for an entire year,” the voice of Leta Lestrange echoed through the Scamander household, and the next moment she was in the kitchen, next to Theseus’ mother, her smile polite but her eyes bright with joy.

Newt let out a strangled sort of laugh, a mixture of surprise and happiness. “Leta, I-I didn’t—”

“That’s what makes it a surprise, Newt.”

“Of course.” The younger Scamander stammered, his eyes anxiously flitting across her face.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Leta.” Theseus finally spoke, saving Newt from his floundering attempt at reconciliation, and grabbing the attention of the young woman. She smiled at him, and the sight of it spread a warmth through his body.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Theseus nodded with a crooked smile of his own, color blooming on his cheeks. His eyes held hers for a long while, and she made no move of looking away. Theseus wondered what had changed inside her. Just a year ago she couldn’t look in his general direction when speaking and now it was common for her to stare at him as though no one else was there. What had changed?

Or, a part of him wondered, what has she resigned herself to?

Newt coughed and he blinked, dispelling the trance he had fallen into. Gathering himself, Theseus walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, where the fire burned bright and solitude surrounded him, leaving him to his thoughts.

It wasn’t long before Leta joined him, her footfall tentative and soft on the carpet. “Is there something wrong?” Her voice was low and without curiosity - almost as though she knew the answer to her question but thought asking to be a necessary formality.

Theseus swallowed. “No.”

She was still approaching, her voice drifting closer to him, like a song. “You can’t lie to me, Theseus. We’re too close for that.”

“Are we?” He turned to look at her, his voice strong with the slightest bit of hope laced in. Leta looked up at him, her eyebrows knit together. “I love you, but you told me I couldn’t.”

“I know,” Leta whispered, her eyes closing for a half moment, long lashes kissing her golden brown skin, “and I meant what I said. Love can’t change me. But I want to be loved. I want to know what that’s like.”

Theseus reached out and grabbed her hand, his calloused fingers brushing over her own. “Let me show you.”

Leta nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes wide with apprehension, her heart pounding in her chest. His lips met hers in a slow kiss, one hand on the small of her back, the other still intertwined with her own. She tasted sweet against him, like hot chocolate and candy canes.

“I love you.” Theseus whispered it when he pulled away, close enough for her to feel his breath across her lips.

She kissed him again.