After the debacle that was the Auror raid on Grindelwald's rally, the Ministry didn't want to send anyone else into France, not even to deliver a Portkey. And so it was that three wizards, four witches (including one Maledictus) and one Muggle found themselves on a ferry across the English channel.

Leta had been very quiet ever since the events at Pere Lachaise. She stood alone now, on the deck at the rear of the ship, leaning against the rail and watching the white foamy wake flow out from behind the ferry as it sliced through the water. A set of familiar footsteps approached her from behind, but she didn't turn.

'Leta.'

After a moment's hesitation, Theseus set his hands on Leta's shoulders. He swallowed a breath of relief when she didn't flinch away from him.

'Talk to me, darling.'

There was a long silence while they both stared out towards the quickly-disappearing coast of France. It was near evening, and a golden light began to reach into the water, creating streaks and flashes of colour.

'You're the only one who doesn't know,' Leta finally said.

'Know what, darling.' His voice was still so gentle, so full of love. She drank it in, memorising its shape and its texture. He might never speak to her like that again after he heard her story.

Finally, Leta turned around and look up at him. His face was so innocent, full of expectation, tinged with a touch of concern, saturated with love. 'Before the rally, we found Yusuf, Credence and Nagini in the Lestrange tomb,' Leta began.

Theseus nodded. He knew this bit. He wasn't such a terrible Auror that he hadn't noticed Yusuf and Nagini join their merry crew.

'Yusuf thought Credence was Corvus, like you said. But I knew he wasn't, because my brother is dead,' Leta continued. Theseus nodded again. He knew this bit too.

Leta took a deep breath. 'I knew Corvus was dead because...because I killed him.'

To Leta's relief, Theseus barely reacted at all. He merely tightened his grip on her forearms and kept listening.

The whole story came pouring out faster than she could have expected. It flowed from her lips as if it had a mind of its own. The words tumbled out and found their way to Theseus' heart, yet all the time he simply watched and listened. His hold on her was gentle, as if he were cradling a precious piece of china.

And when it was over, Theseus merely kissed her and said. 'Thank you for telling me.' He wiped the tears from her cheeks and drew her near to him, so that she was resting her head on his chest.

After a moment - a long moment - Leta pulled back and looked Theseus in the eye. 'Tell me the truth, Theseus. Do you hate me for what I've done.'

'Hate you?' His response was loud, and he sounded a little hurt. 'You didn't mean to. It wasn't your fault. I feel nothing but compassion for what happened to you on that ship.'

The relief at his words was overwhelming, but Leta pushed it aside because she sensed something else in his tone. 'But...?' she prompted.

'But, as for what happened at Pere Lachaise, Leta, what the devil were you thinking! You could have died! And then where would I be? Didn't you hear me calling your name?'

Leta swallowed and averted her gaze for a moment. She had, in fact, heard Theseus calling her name. Screaming would be more accurate. It had torn at her heartstrings like there was no tomorrow.

'I thought...I thought it was better. I would be dying to save better people. And if I were dead...' She trailed off. Dying was a coward's escape. But it had been so tempting.

'No.' Theseus spoke in his Head Auror voice. It was an order, a command, with no room for argument. 'Leta, you are worth more than you'll ever know.' His voice cracked as he continued, 'Never do that to me again.'

Leta opened her mouth to reply but her words got stuck in her throat. She let out a single sob, and buried her face in Theseus' shoulder. Theseus wrapped his arms around her, grateful that she couldn't see his face, or the tears that were steadily making their way down his cheeks and into her hair.