She never thought she would hear him say it out loud. Granted, she knows he must have mulled it over every now and then, the thought crossing the back of his mind like thunder whenever his little brother is around. But Theseus Scamander is a prudent man, and she has never thought he would put it so bluntly, so directly, even when she knows that she should have been prepared for that question ever since they first kissed, both a little too drunk and feeling even more intoxicated by the other's presence.
"Was there ever anything between you and Newt?"
She sighs and crosses her arms, as though trying to protect herself from the question that Theseus has just shot at her.
"Define anything," she replies a few seconds later, her lips twitching ever so lightly as a faint, distant memory dashes through her mind.
Theseus does a sad chuckle and shakes his head a little. "No, Leta, you know what I mean." He takes a breath and then adds, "Look, I'm not judging you, or Newt. I love you, and Merlin knows I love him too even when he's been acting . . . well, a little strange around as of lately. I just want to know what — well, what happened between you two before you drifted apart. I feel like it's a fair question, with us being together and him being my brother and everything."
His hand is now resting against Leta's cheek, a gesture that usually feels like home to her. But tonight she just lowers her gaze and shrugs her shoulders.
"It wasn't pretty, leaving him like that," she mutters finally, not quite daring to look at him in the eye just yet. "He — he meant a lot to me, Thee. More than anyone else did back then."
His chest sinks, but he nods quietly. He knows how to take a blow, Leta thinks sadly.
"All right." He says calmly. "But you haven't answered my question yet. What were you back then?"
She stifles a sad cough and shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know, Theseus. I really don't know. We were never boyfriend and girlfriend, if that's what you're asking. We didn't go on Hogsmeade dates or snog in the broomstick closet. But were we more than friends? Yes, I think we were. I don't know how he feels about it, but — there was something there, because he was the first person who became fully accepting of who I was and who I wanted to be, in spite of my flaws and my past and — well, pretty much everything that surrounded me ever since I got to school."
She looks up at Theseus and sees all the questions that he's dying to ask in his eyes, but he chooses to remain silent nevertheless. He runs a nervous hand through his hair and then smiles, albeit a little sadly.
"Yes, I've never met anyone nearly as accepting of everyone as Newt is," he muses, his eyes flying to the window distractedly.
Leta can see that his eyes are avoiding hers, which makes her chest sink. Theseus's silences are worse than the most tearful demonstrations of pain, because he becomes the quietest person when he's hurting. She tries to place her hand on his cheek, but he discreetly shrugs it off.
"Don't get angry at me," she whispers, almost falteringly.
"I'm not angry," he replies. And it's true that he isn't. He never gets angry at her, not even when she feels as though she deserves it. But his entire face expresses sheer hurt, which makes her feel even worse than an explicit reproach. She could have argued him if he had gotten angry, screamed at him that her relationship with Newt had been too special for him to understand, but that there was no one in the world that she would rather be with than her first love's older brother, as contradictory as it might have sounded.
But with ache written all over his face, she could hardly blame him for anything at all.
"Thee, look at me, please," she begs quietly. He obliges, but his expression doesn't change. "I'm sorry. I can't change the past, and I'm not sure I would even if I could, because Newt — well, he meant a lot to me, you know that much. I just wish I could make you understand, Thee."
Theseus sighs. "I trust you, Leta. It's not like that. I just — I'm not blind. I knew that there was something going on between the two of you while we were growing up, because I saw the look in his eyes whenever you were around and how our entire household seemed to lighten up when you came over during the holidays. But do you — I mean, what I intended to ask you was — if you still love him, that's all."
Leta could have expected a lot of questions from Theseus at this point, but she definitely didn't see that one coming. And the worst thing about it is that she doesn't quite know how to respond to it.
"I've felt very strongly about both of you, and very differently," she whispers, her tone the most sincere ever since the conversation first began. "I love him, and a part of me always will. But it's a different sort of love, Thee, and I need you to understand that. He — he helped me a lot when no one else did, cared for me, accepted everything about me when all I was used to was my father's snarky comments and my stepmother's disdainful looks; that's never going to change. But you — you're home to me, Thee. I couldn't possibly live without you. I — " She never stutters, but she suddenly finds herself at a loss for words, her heart sinking at the thought of Theseus leaving through the door within the next few seconds. "I love you more than anything, and I — Merlin, I want to grow old with you, be the mother of your little wavy haired children, for us to build a future together. But yes, I guess I love you both, in very different ways."
Her eyes well up with tears as she speaks, because she's never felt this vulnerable and exposed, and she has to lower her face as a tear rolls down her cheek. She expects him to be gone by the time she looks up, fetching his coat or getting his tie done, but he's still there, standing in front of her with a contorted smile on his face and those flustered cheeks of his that convey him the vividness of a teenager even though he's well into his twenties.
"I understand," he whispers finally, brushing the tear on her cheek away ever so gently.
"What do you mean?" she asks quietly, looking up to meet his hazel eyes.
Theseus's smile turnes somewhat brighter, less somber. There's hope in it, Leta thinks. "I understand what you just said," he repeats. "I understand that you might still love Newt, even if it's me you want to spend your life with. I understand that a feeling so strong partly stays there forever, and that you truly mean it when you say that you want to spend your life with me and be the mother of our future little wavy haired children." At this point, a small chuckle erupts from his mouth as the tips of his fingers graze her neck; there's peace in his voice and warmth in his hands. "I understand, because the image of growing old with you makes it impossible for me to get angry over something that doesn't get in the way of the best thing that's ever happened to me. I — I understand, that's all."
She lets him speak, relishing on every single word that comes out of his mouth, and then cracks a smile in spite of the tears that are still in her eyes. "So you're not leaving?"
"How could I ever?" His lips slowly twitch into one of those goofy smiles that he usually did back when they first got together, and silently presses his forehead against hers. "I'm going to marry you someday, if you'll let me. I'm in it for the long haul, Lestrange."
"Merlin help me then."
Theseus's entire face is smiling now, and Leta can't help but laugh at the way his eyes crinkle when he's happy.
"Merlin, you look so adorable when you get into an intense conversation," he muses, his nose poking hers ever so lightly.
She just scoffs, an amused smile playing on her lips. "Screw you, Theseus Scamander."
"I was hoping that you would, actually."
She just feigns an offended look as Theseus bursts into laughter, and she shakes her head as he flops onto the bed that will soon no longer be his, but theirs. She doesn't know that just yet, though, so for the time being she simply relishes at the thought of an entire night by Theseus's side, hidden under the intimacy of the covers of his bed.
Because she's been all over the world, only to realize that home doesn't always mean somewhere to return to but rather someone to return to; someone who will always welcome her with his arms open in spite of her flaws, remorses and fears. And Theseus is home to Leta, and a part of her knows that he always will be.