Queenie heard her before she saw her.

I'd better get back to Theseus.

A blur of crimson-purple rushed past. She was walking so quickly that she lost her balance on the slippery pavement and flailed about. One hand hit Queenie across the face.

'Oh, goodness me, I'm so sorry!' Leta cried. Then, remembering where she was, hastily added. 'Je suis très désolée!'

'It's quite all right,' Queenie assured her. She dragged the other woman out of the way of the swarm of Parisians in the busy street, seeking shelter in the gap between two shops.

Leta was exactly as she'd pictured, based on Newt's memories and that atrocious magazine. Beautiful, confident, but tortured by something terribly dark, buried so deep beneath the surface that Queenie almost missed it.

'Are you sure you're all right?' Her voice was so very British. It teased at the ache in her heart, and she felt a stab of guilt at how she'd treated Newt in London. And how she'd treated Jacob.

'Yes,' Queenie replied, a little breathless. 'You're Leta Lestrange.'

She hadn't meant to sound rude, only to make a statement, but perhaps it came across rather forward because Leta's brow suddenly furrowed with suspicion.

'Yes, Miss...?'

'Goldstein,' Queenie quickly supplied.

A rush of emotions flooded through Leta's face and mind. Still not great at accents, Queenie had to do most of the reading through watching Leta's eyes - she'd learnt by association how eye movements and thoughts were tightly linked.

'You're not...' Leta was frowning. This girl was blonde and didn't possess have the confident, solemn air of an Auror.

'Oh no, that's my sister,' Queenie said. 'Newt keeps a picture of her in his case? Oh, he's so sweet.'

Leta's expression cleared. 'Oh, I see. Are you here with your sister? Is Newt here? Only, Newt's assistant Bunty mentioned he'd run off to Paris and Theseus is beside himself. We're here on official business, but he'd really be much happier if he knew what Newt was up to. Oh, I'm sorry, you might not know who Theseus is-'

'I know, sweetie, don't you worry,' Queenie cut in, her heart beating rapidly. Her chest began to constrict again as she remembered how alone she was, here in Paris. Or maybe she wasn't alone now. 'I haven't been able to find her, any of them.' She blinked back tears angrily as she continued. 'I heard Newt and Jacob passing by some time ago, but lost track of them in the rain.'

Leta faltered, not knowing what to do with the crying Queenie. 'You'd better come with me,' she said, figuring some decisive action would be best. 'We'll find Theseus, and he'll know what to do.'

Theseus was a little shocked, but pleased, to meet Queenie.

'Brilliant,' he said. 'If we find Tina, we find Newt. The Ministry thinks he's here on Dumbledore's orders but Newt doesn't follow orders. He's definitely here for the girl whose picture he keeps in the case.'

Queenie wished Theseus' British accent wasn't so strong. His thoughts were distant and she wasn't actively trying to pry, but what he projected was such a foreign mish mash that he was giving her a headache. The strongest feelings were mostly to do with Newt - love, concern, frustration. And there was something else, something he felt towards Leta - warm and glowing. She'd seen that before, when Tina thought about Newt (which was all the time), when Newt thought about Tina, when Jacob thought about her.

No, that thought was too painful. Better focus on the present.

'Darling, I don't know that finding them will be so easy,' Leta was saying. 'We're supposed to be on a mission.'

Theseus had his hands on his fiancee's shoulders, running them up and down her arms. 'You're not on the raid. You'll have to fetch Newt with Miss Goldstein here. Follow the chaos and you should find them pretty quickly.' Theseus half-grinned.

'Be careful. Promise me you'll be careful.'

Theseus sighed. 'I promise.'

Queenie stepped away as they kissed, sensing the moment was private, sacred.

Finally, they pulled away from each other and Theseus went running off to join his team. Leta watched him go, a strange expression set on her features, but she soon shook it off and turned to Queenie.

'Look, I know you're desperate to find your sister, but there's something I need to do first.'

And suddenly, the floodgates had opened and Queenie was staring deep into Leta's soul. People had always been easiest to read when they were hurting. The darkness was overwhelming - it was a wonder Leta could stand under the burden of it all. But Queenie kept her face impassive.

'Sure, sweetie. I've never seen the records department before.'

'How did you..? Never mind, let's go.'

Queenie heard them even before Pickett gave the game away. Or rather, she heard Tina, and suddenly she wanted to collapse on the floor and drink in the comfort of her sister's mind. Her sister's tortured, beautiful mind. Oh good, they'd sorted out that magazine nonsense. Salamander eyes? How adorable! Of course Tina would find that romantic. Clinging on to the back of the record shelves? Even better.

'Circumrota.'

'Queenie!' Tina's exclamation was so loud that any awkward greeting exchanged by Newt and Leta was utterly drowned out.

Tina leapt from the shelves, nimbly landing next to Queenie and enveloping her in a tight hug. 'I was so worried, ever since Jacob told me you'd come to Paris alone. Goodness, what were you thinking? What if I'd never found you? Queenie, I'm so sorry, I should never have come between you and Jacob!' Tina's murmurs into Queenie's ears were becoming less and less intelligible as her tears took over, her throat to constricted to speak clearly.

By the time the sisters released each other a little, though still holding hands, Queenie's vision was also obstructed with tears. 'I'm sorry too-'

But she didn't have time to finish her sentence. They were interrupted by the appearance of the a creepy old lady surrounded by vicious cats with giant eyes, baring their teeth with a menacing hiss.

Leta didn't hear Newt's hurried explanation about matagots. She reacted instinctively.

'Stupefy'

'UNLESS YOU ATTACK THEM!'

Leta had a quick moment to look a little sheepish. 'Oops.'

The three girls clambered back onto the shelves next to Newt and they spun away.