It was over. Theseus had repeated the reality to himself time and time again, and it still had yet to feel like reality. He had grown so used to the pain, the muck, the frustration, and the camaraderie of this war that he'd almost forgotten that there had been a life before it, one that involved schooling and work and dinners and meetings. Theseus had always known but had seemed to forget that the war would eventually be over and that the life that was now more like a ghost to him would start over again. He wondered if it was a sign of madness to think that with the relief of knowing the war was over Thesus also felt a kind of sadness, a melancholy, that he would never again live with the men he'd come to call brothers or that this sense of urgency and necessity for his efforts would never again be his.
Theseus didn't dare say any of these thoughts or feelings aloud. He instead mimicked his brothers with his relieved smile and almost giddy laughter when the topic came up. They each traded stories of what they would do once they were home, and they even made promises of when they would meet each other again. It was an emotionally exhausting business. Saying farewell in your heart and body to a state of living you'd grown so accustomed to and that few back home would ever understand. He knew these men, his fellow survivors, were like the band of brothers who fought with Henry V at Agincourt on St. Crispin's Day. They were bonded together in a way few others who had not been here would understand. Without having to experience it firsthand, Theseus knew that reintegrating into life back home was going to be a whole new battleground for them all.
And it was a battle they had yet to fight for they had yet to be sent back home. Theirs was one of the last positions to be pulled out in this area of Europe, they'd heard, and when they were pulled out they would have long train rides, overcrowded ship rides, and even a few cart rides to look forward to before they could get back to England. But at least it was over. No more attacks, be it with physical weapons or magical. They could each go to sleep at night, knowing that the same men you saw the night before would still be living the morning after. It was quite surreal, really, and Theseus had yet to come to grips with it all.
This was part of the reason why he'd begun having trouble sleeping. There was so much unknown about what life would be like for him once he returned home. Like the others, he had a family to return to, and even the hopes for a continued job at the Ministry but Theseus had taken quite a risk to join the war effort and now, with the war over, he was taking a near equal amount of risk in returning home. Some would be happy to throw him and others like him into Azkaban for his disobeying a direct order from Evermonde to remain neutral during the war. And some would love to use him as a poster child of why it was essential to work more closely with the non-magical world. Theseus knew that his experience here on the battlefield could be used as propaganda for either side and he wanted none of that.
Before the war, Theseus had just made it through the demanding training program for the Auror Office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had only made a name for himself as a Dark Wizard catcher when all hell had broken loose in the Muggle world. His superiors told Theseus that if he dared to violate the order to remain out of the war, then he could forget about ever working for the Ministry again. It had been a difficult decision, Theseus remembered, and yet at the same time, it had also been the easiest decision he'd ever made. He did not believe that he had been born with these abilities to benefit one world alone, especially when throughout the history of the magical and non-magical, people drifted easily between the two worlds, so much so that you could not, he believed at least, have one without the other.
Theseus pulled his coat tighter against his body. The winds were picking up, carrying on them the sounds of late-night revelry and the smells of feasting. For many, both those local and those soon to be gone, each day without fighting was a day to celebrate, and they had not stopped doing so since the announcement had been made. Here in the village, near every corner, there was the sound of music and singing. Theseus found the sounds comforting although he did not also feel the desire to join in on the experience. His mind was too preoccupied with the what-ifs and unknowns of "what next" to find much enjoyment in-
His melancholy was momentarily lifted even as his feet lost their footing, and he fell to the ground, his arms now full of the human mass that had all but fallen out of the door nearest him. He coughed, and he heard the mass laugh and somehow moan at the same time, followed closely by a high-pitched hiccup. The mass was undoubtedly female, and Theseus had a devil of a time in his attempt to roll the woman off him without grabbing her indecently, especially since she'd seemed to grow an extra pair of arms and legs. Not in the literal sense, of course, but every time he disentangled one arm from about his neck or within the folds of his jacket, another appeared, and he hadn't a clue what was occurring with their legs as they both thrashed around on the cobblestoned street.
A head appeared at the door the mass had fallen out of, and Theseus recognized then where he was and who the head belonged to. He'd circled the village and come back to the tavern he and his comrades most often frequented, and the head now speaking to him was the tavern owner. He spoke in French, though Theseus knew the man knew English by now, and it took a moment or two before Theseus mentally translated the words.
"Oh, it is you again. I know I can trust you to take care of her. Poor madam, everyone is celebrating but her. She carries too many ghosts with her, I fear." The tavern keeper shook his head before shutting the tavern door, not once making an effort to help Theseus or the woman up off the ground. Theseus sighed. The French…
"Theseus," his attention returned to the feminine mass in his arms. The woman's head had lifted off his chest, and he could see through the mess of hair the face of none other than Helen O'Reilly. "We have got to," she hiccuped, "stop meeting like this." Another hiccup then a giggle. "Thank you for catching me." Another hiccup, "Again."
Theseus nodded, "Are you here alone?" She nodded and earned a frown from him. "Why?"
Helen looked around them at the otherwise deserted street, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that they still lay sprawled on the ground in a shocking twist of limbs and clothing. When her gaze came back to rest on his face, Theseus saw that she wasn't nearly as intoxicated as she had been the last time they'd run into each other like this. She clicked her tongue in her mouth and shook her head at him.
"Why are you alone?" With her question, she seemed to find the energy to extract herself from his arms finally. She rolled to the side, allowing him the ability to stand and accepted the hand he offered her. She didn't ask first, and Theseus found he didn't mind before she reached out and brushed the dried muck off his uniform coat. But she, thankfully, didn't attempt to brush off his rear as well.
"I've been walking," Theseus felt a bit sheepish for telling her this, but that didn't stop him from adding, "I have a lot on my mind."
Helen nodded, hiccuped, put a hand over her mouth to cover a burp, and nodded again with a wry smile, "That is probably a better thing to do than drinking." She put her hands on her hips, and Theseus hands twitched to help when he saw her body sway in the wind. "Mind if I join you? I think the fresh air would do me some good. Sober me up."
Theseus waited until she started to walk in the direction he'd just come from before he fell into step beside her. They walked in companionable silence, one interrupted only now and again with her hiccups or burps and "thank yous" when he reached out to guide her still swerving body over a pothole or down a step.
In the time since he'd left her the note in the hotel room and the subsequent conversation in the mess hall, they'd had a few more encounters, but none of them involving alcohol. He'd met her in the bookstore, or what was left of the village bookstore, on one of his leave days and they'd exchanged some pleasantries about books. He'd been both surprised and pleased to find that they had similar tastes. That had been the first time she'd called him continuously by his first name, and Theseus had tentatively begun calling her Helen. They'd met again when he'd helped to bring in a few of his brothers for medical care, and after they'd been treated and stabilized, Helen had taken the time to check up on him. Friend to friend, she'd told him, not doctor to former patient.
And there were a half dozen other times, typically just in passing at the mess hall or in the village, but with each encounter, Theseus felt his initial attraction for her, and the nervousness it brought, shift into something more steady. She was still beautiful to him, and Theseus still found himself fantasizing about conversations to have with her about various elements of life back home, even going so far as to picture her having dinner with his parents. She was more human than she had been when he'd first met her if that made any sense, and Theseus found himself yearning for the camaraderie of a stable relationship with her. But he knew it was impossible. He didn't know much about her beyond what she'd revealed in her drunken state(s) or the few personal tidbits she'd shared with him in conversation, but he got the distinct feeling that she was the kind of Muggle who would prefer to live her life firmly in the Muggle world without knowledge of magic.
"It is strange," she broke the silence nearly three blocks from when they'd first begun their walk, "to think that I will actually miss elements of this place, of living like this, of being here." She waved an arm around her and nearly fell off the sidewalk if Theseus hadn't grabbed her elbow and steadied her. "Do you feel similar or am I the only one mad enough to feel that way?"
Theseus let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, "Actually, I thought I was the only one who felt that way."
"Well," Helen smiled, "having you feel the same doesn't mean we aren't both mad." She winked. "But it is good not to be alone in the sentiments nonetheless."
Theseus hummed his agreement. He found himself holding back questions he wanted to ask her: about what she would be doing now, where she would be going, did she have anyone to go home to, and other such questions the level of intimacy between them did not allow. He glanced over at her, taking in the sight of her determined look of concentration, most likely doing her best to keep from stumbling in her inebriation, and he smiled. He would miss her and yet he wondered if it would be too impertinent of him to ask for her address so they could at least exchange letters. He nibbled his lower lip in thought.
"Oh," her voice had him looking up just in time to catch sight of an owl flying towards them, "that is an owl." The owl perched on the streetlamp near where they stood and dropped a letter into Theseus's hands. "Did that owl just give you a letter?" The owl hooted then retook flight. "Theseus, an owl just gave you a letter." Helen rubbed at her eyes. "Please tell me I'm not seeing things."
Theseus didn't know what to say or do, at that moment. Typically owls were more discrete in their deliveries. He'd received quite a number in his time here but never in front of another person who wasn't also a wizard or witch or was a Muggle aware of his abilities. His hands gripped the letter, and he swallowed. How was he going to get out of this?
"Whoah," she reached out and stopped him from pocketing the letter, "I just saw an owl drop a letter into your hands. I have to know what it says." She had both hands on his wrist and stared eagerly at him. "Come on, Theseus, don't you want to know what it says? Things like this don't happen every day."
Theseus felt his stomach tighten. He really didn't want to use a memory charm on her. But she was pushing him into a corner. Before he could say, or do, anything else, she took the letter from his hands and opened it. Theseus reached for it but Helen side-stepped him, and he reached for it again. It must've looked like an odd, archaic dance to an onlooker, her dancing just out of reach as he continued to attempt to grab hold of the letter, without causing her to fall off balance or hurt herself. She'd begun to laugh at some point, and, despite the gravity of the situation, the sound made a smile tug at his own lips as well.
Eventually, Theseus "danced" her up against the wall. She had her letter-holding hand behind her back, pressed between her body and the bricks, while her free hand lay on his chest above his heart. Theseus had one arm wrapped down and around her waist, reaching for the letter, with the other hand braced against the wall beside her shoulder. He felt her breath on his face and could feel her chest brush against his with each breath either of them took. Her lips were still pulled back in a smile while Theseus knew his face had taken on a more severe and confused expression.
"You're a good dancer, Theseus Scamander," her voice was huskier than usual, "it makes me wonder if you're a good kisser as well." Theseus's eyes widened, and he felt his stomach tighten again. "Oh, I know I kissed you before, but I barely remember it, and I was far too intoxicated to appreciate it fully."
Theseus cleared his throat, "Are you propositioning me for a kiss, Dr. O'Reilly?"
"Helen." Her smile brightened. "And I will shamelessly confess to yes I am." Her hand moved up his chest to the back of his neck. She leaned more into him, and Theseus felt his head go faint. "A kiss for the letter."
Never would have Theseus imagined himself to be in this position. He knew she was still under the influence of the alcohol, though not nearly as much now as she had before been. Theseus also knew or had begun to assume that she felt an inkling of attraction for him as every time she saw him, the quality of her smile was different than the ones she gave to others. He knew that kissing her could cause misunderstandings and false expectations for either of them, but he certainly wasn't about to let the opportunity go to waste either.
Theseus gave a small smile of his own before closing the distance between them. He then promptly lost all connection with reality as he kissed her. The kiss tasted vaguely of the drinks she'd been indulging in earlier, but Theseus didn't mind for it also tasted distinctly of Helen. He remembered her taste from the last kiss they'd shared. He pulled her tighter against him as he felt both her arms move around to hold onto his neck and shoulders. Theseus moved a hand to cup her face while the other smoothed over her hair. It felt as if they were conforming to one another, their bodies responding faster than their minds. Their lips only parted long enough for Theseus to kiss her neck, for Helen to pull his earlobe between her lips, and for both of them to pant as they clung to one another.
He got a hold of himself long enough to draw out his wand as he kissed her again, distracting her from his movements. Theseus nearly dropped his wand when she drew her hips against his in a rather wanton, but not unwelcome, way. This was the best time he had to do this, though Theseus loathed to do it. He continued to lavish kisses upon her neck, her cheeks, her lips, as he moved his wand into position. Then, leaning his forehead against hers and taking in a much-needed breath, Theseus whispered the necessary words for the memory charm.
"What did you say?" her question had him opening his eyes and drawing back from her just enough to see her more clearly.
Theseus hadn't heard the familiar sound of magic in the air in response to his words, and neither had he seen a corresponding blast of color. That was strange.
"I said, obliviate," Theseus tightened his grip on his wand, though he kept it out of sight, and watched and waited. Still nothing.
Helen tipped her head to the side, "Not that I've kissed a goodly amount of men in my time, but I must say that's a first for me." She still held onto him, which Theseus took as a good sign. "Do I take that as a compliment or an insult, Mr. Scamander?"
"Compliment," Theseus slipped his wand discretely away and placed both of his hands on her hips, "I find that I forget the rest of the world when I'm with you."
Helen laughed, "Careful with your romantic words, Theseus, they're liable to get you into trouble." It seemed the frenzy between them with their kiss was over now, broken by Theseus, and she pulled away just enough to press the letter against his chest. "I wouldn't have read it, Theseus. Just wanted a bit of fun."
He nodded, believing her. She eyed him curiously then, and it took that look from her for Theseus to realize he still held onto her and had her pressed against the wall. Theseus blushed as he dropped his hands and stepped back. She at least had the excuse of alcohol to explain her behavior.
"So," she rocked on her heels, and Theseus was happy to see that she was steadier on her feet now, "I still owe you that drink." At Theseus' look, she laughed and patted his shoulder, "I don't mean now." Without asking, she looped her arm in his and started back in the direction they'd come. "I mean once we're back in England. You seem the type to dwell mostly in London, am I right?" Theseus nodded. "My father has a practice in Cardiff and my uncle in Dublin. Both of them have offered to take me on now that this nightmare is over. If you give me your address, I could let you know when I'm in your area of the Isles, and we can go get that drink."
Not for the first time, Theseus didn't know what to say, or do, with this woman. Everything she said was a surprise, and yet not, and she often said or did things that he thought of himself but hadn't quite gotten around to. Perhaps he would age into being more like her, having more initiative. They weren't so far apart in age as he'd first thought, she was old enough to be an older sister, not an aunt, but he got the feeling that she'd lived through more difficulties than he and so had an older wisdom aura about her shoulders that he lacked.
"That is unless you are looking forward to the time you say goodbye to me," she playfully punched his shoulder and made Theseus realize he hadn't yet replied to her, "I may be too forward for your scene."
While it was true, for some in his household or his 'world,' her behavior and even vocation would be seen as too "forward," Theseus also felt that she would fit in like a glove.
"No, no. Sorry I was lost in thought. I'd be happy to give you my address. The lads and I have already begun making plans for our get-togethers once we're back home." He laid a hand over hers on his arm, "I would love to see you again."
Her smile was soft and genuine. She squeezed his arm and laid her head against it as they continued to walk. They didn't get very far before she spoke again, "It still was quite odd for an owl to give you a letter. Unless that was a mutated pigeon."
Theseus laughed and relished the feeling of walking beside her, if even for one last time.