While the Lindy Hop didn't really take to dance halls until 1928, this story takes place in 1927. Sorry for the very late update. Been working on other works and living life. Thanks for the reviews and support! Cheers!

Theseus stood in awe of her grace and beauty; how she moved among the crowds of people as a woman both within and apart from them all. No, not apart, above. She was above them all, and while she knew it, she did not lord it over them. Theseus was aware of the dark times of her past, her unorthodox upbringing leading to an estrangement with members of her family, but the woman he knew was not the woman of that dark past. She was beautiful; she was forthright; she was strong and persevering, and she was relentless for standing up for what she believed. And Theseus trusted in her belief that they were meant for each other because he felt the same.

He had never known a woman like her, somehow so stunningly strong and so vulnerable when with the right person and in the right circumstances. Her magical powers matched his own and having an equal socially, magically, and mentally was a welcome change for Theseus. So often he'd been the superior one, and while in some fashion he found satisfaction in that, it was nice to be on equal footing with Leta.

"You're staring again."

Theseus smiled at his fiancé, "Am I not supposed to?"

"It isn't polite for a fiancée to monopolize the attentions of her fiancé whilst at soirees," Leta leaned up and kissed his cheek, "come find me in thirty minutes for another."

She extracted herself from his side, lightly pushing him towards the interior of the crowded room. They were only here because of him, or at least his past. The Ministry believed some leads could be found among the veterans from his old regiment and had mandated his attendance at the annual veterans' ball. Theseus had never attended these events, not because of a particular haunting from the War, but more from lack of time or opportunity. It helped to have Leta at his side. She fielded some of the more annoying questions when those who felt they knew him approached with a "friendly" interrogation. But she had a point: he would only find the leads if he took the time to mingle alone.

Carrying a half-drunk glass of champagne and resisting the urge to tug at the tight necktie completing his tuxedo, Theseus circulated through the rooms. Easing in and out of conversations, sometimes taking part and other times observing from a distance, he filed away names and faces to match his memories. Some were not in attendance because of weather or distance, and no one spoke of those who had taken their lives after the War. There would always be that fragile veneer of control for this group of people in society, ever threatened to shatter into insanity if pressed too hard.

Theseus turned and nearly dropped the glass when, in a movement that was as sudden as it was surprising, a woman pressed her lips to his, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and placing the other on his shoulder. The kiss lasted but a moment but in the resulting blast of feeling and the scent of this woman, in particular, Theseus had vivid memories he'd kept buried rushing back full force and robbing him of breath. When she pulled away, Theseus was four years younger, naiver, innocent, and with an open future.

"Helen." Theseus reached out without thinking, brushing his fingers against the skin of her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, her smile warm and welcoming, "If I recall correctly, you did say you were looking forward to the next time we could do either." Theseus dropped his hand and tipped his head to the side, "Seeing and kissing, Theseus."

"Oh," Theseus laughed and surprised himself when he felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. Truly, no other woman had made him blush the way Helen did. "I'd forgotten. Sorry."

Helen shrugged and moved back to a more socially appropriate distance. "Four years can do that. I've never seen you attend these before, and I've come every year, so I couldn't help but seize on the opportunity when I saw you wandering alone over here."

"Yes, I felt it was time to come." Theseus downed the last of his champagne, suddenly wishing for something stronger. "It has been far too long-" His words faltered when he spied Leta talking with one of the supposed leads across the crowded room. While there was no apparent danger, one could never be too careful. Theseus looked around, trying to find the quickest way to Leta's side. Sadly, the only way would be across the dance floor, but that would draw too much attention and-

"Scamander," Theseus winced and looked down to where Helen pinched his arm, "I can tell you're looking for a strategic out. Now, is the out because you don't want to talk to me, or is it because you're on another mission?"

"Pardon?" Theseus drew back. How could she know he was here on a mission unless she was a part of the leads they sent him to track down, and his cover had been blown?

Helen rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, "The last time we met, you goon, we had to throw off those buffoons with some play-acting. You weren't very forthright with all your smoke and mirrors act then, and it seems you're still in with that life now." She tensed and moved closer, looking around the room in the same fashion as he. "Do we need to snog again?"

He could tell she was half in jest and half serious and he mentally berated himself for thinking, even for a moment, that she was anything but genuine and innocent. Theseus sighed and shook his head, forcing a playful smile.

"No, no snogging necessary." He looked back to the dance floor and saw the lead starting to lead Leta into one of the adjoining rooms. He needed to get over there fast. "However, I do need to get to the other side of the room as quickly as possible."

An upbeat and near scandalous rhythm began from the musician stand and Helen grinned, holding out her hand, "I'm game."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Theseus laughed as he accepted her invitation and let her lead him to the dance floor. It was one of the newer dance styles and he hoped Helen had a better clue than he how to follow the steps, otherwise, this ploy would backfire.

"Don't worry, spy boy," Helen leaned close and whispered against the sensitive skin below his ear, "I know how to Lindy. Just follow my lead. And don't drop me."

Theseus stammered, "Drop you?"

Helen's laugh combined with the raucous music as they fell in line with the rest of the dancers. The dance was indeed as scandalous as the music, and more than once Helen laughed when most other women would've cried when he failed to commit fully to a lift or a twirl because of his ignorance. Theseus allowed himself to be pulled into the jovial nature of the song and the effervescent quality of his dance partner for a few refrains. It felt good to see her again, to touch her again, but there was no returning to what he was or who he'd been when they'd last seen another.

"Think we could," he panted near her ear over the din of the music, "adjust our dance to fall off the dance floor over there?" He indicated the side of the dance floor closest to where Leta had disappeared.

Helen smirked, "Your wish." She grabbed his hand, forced a twirl, then popped out on the other side than what he had been expecting, tossing them both off balance and off the dance floor, into the crowd at the edge. She laughed as the crowd reabsorbed them; they were all too drunk to care at the sudden intrusion. "Is my command."

"Thank you." He continued to pant. For all its crazed steps, that dance was a good exercise regime. "Now I need-"

"There you are Theseus." Leta reappeared from among the crowd, immediately moving to stand beside him, tucking her arm into his, and leaning up to kiss his cheek. She hesitated when she saw lipstick on his lips, using her gloved finger to wipe it off. Then she turned to look at Helen. Leta looked between her stained fingertip and Helen's lips. Helen did not look ashamed enough to suit Leta, if the building scowl was any sign to Theseus. "And you are?"

"An old war buddy of Theseus's." Helen snagged a glass of champagne from a passing server, grabbed one for Theseus as well, and held it out to him. "Helen O'Reilly."

Leta took and sipped at it before handing it on to Theseus, "War buddy? Fascinating." Theseus heard the edge in Leta's voice and knew he would have a lot of explaining and apologizing to do later. He'd never told Leta about Helen. Hadn't felt the need to. At least not until now.

"Yes," Helen downed her glass in one go then grabbed another from another waiter. She sipped at this one, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, "Not exactly the word I'd use to describe what went on over there." Theseus inwardly winced as he watched Helen drain this glass and again reach for another. When she faced them again, she looked back to Theseus, "I feel proper introductions are in order, Scamander. I'm already on my third and I've not a clue what to call your friend."

"Fiancee." Leta corrected before Theseus could answer, and he watched Helen's eyes widen and heard the slight intake of breath that resulted in choking when the champagne Helen had been sipping at went down the wrong pipe.

"Oh dear," Leta pulled a silken kerchief from her clutch and handed it to Helen when she doubled over and coughed, trying to rid her lungs of the liquid. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes," Helen's voice was warped because of her coughing, and had it been any other circumstance Theseus would've found the sound of it amusing. "I'll be just fine." She gasped in a steadying breath, stalwartly avoiding eye contact with Theseus. "Right as rain in but a moment." She finally looked back to Theseus, "Do go on, finish the introductions."

"Helen O'Reilly," Theseus spoke as if an automaton, "this is Leta Lestrange, my fiancée. Leta, Helen was one of the doctors who served with my regiment during the War. We haven't seen each other in around four years, and she was teaching me how to do one of these new dances."

"I thought you didn't know how to dance." Leta lightly slapped his chest, leaning into his side as she smiled back at Helen. "He's been dreading our wedding dance. Or so he's told me."

Helen nodded, "I'm sure. I've never been keen on the formal dances myself." She sipped at the champagne. "When's the big day?"

"Next year," Leta held out her hand, showing Helen the ring, "I'm surprised Theseus hasn't invited you." She sent Theseus a fake scowl and clicked her tongue at him, "For shame."

"I didn't know where to reach her," Theseus lied and only Helen knew it, "and it has been four years since we last spoke."

Leta reached up and wiped the other side of Theseus' mouth, 'Was it just speaking?"

He could tell the smile was forced when it didn't reach Helen's eyes, "The kiss was a four-year coming joke, Miss Lestrange. So don't worry any about your fiancé turning into a lecherous rogue," The quality did turn genuine then, "I've always known Theseus to be a man of integrity and honor, and I'm sure such things don't change easily."

"No," Leta softened the tone of her voice and leaned her head against Theseus' shoulder, "they don't change easily."

Theseus wanted to apologize and yet didn't know what he needed to apologize for. Helen had been the one to surprise him with a kiss; although, to be fair, the last time they'd seen each other it had been he who had kissed her without preamble, so she was correct in the fulfilling of a years' old jest. He didn't know if he needed to apologize to Helen for not mentioning Leta sooner or to Leta for never having spoken about Helen before. Because, if he were completely honest with himself, Helen was THE only other woman in his life he'd felt equal with and drawn to. Though she had no magic, and it seemed his magic did odd things around her, he'd always felt at ease with her. Neither superior nor inferior, and yet not exactly equal. Just, different.

"Now," Helen finished her champagne and frowned, "I'm tired of this water and am going in search of the real stuff." She held out her hand and Leta gracefully took it. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lestrange. I wish you joy." She turned to Theseus and while her smile remained genuine, gone was some warmth he'd grown accustomed to seeing. "Try and stay out of trouble, Theseus. And if we never meet again, since you so rarely pop up these days, I wish you all the health and happiness in the world."

She weaved through the crowds faster than he thought possible, and Theseus felt keenly an absence in his heart he'd not been aware of before. Leta squeezed his elbow, and he patted her hand.

"Don't worry, I'll tell you more about her later."

Leta smiled, "I wouldn't let you do otherwise."

Theseus looked into the room Leta had come from and spied the lead again. He frowned.

"That man you were speaking to not twenty minutes ago," Theseus led Leta away from the precarious edge of the dance floor, "the one who led you to the balcony, what were two talking about?"

Theseus resisted the urge to look around for another glimpse of Helen. It would be foolish and perhaps unhealthy to wish to see her again. He loved Leta, truly, and dearly, and there was no room for the strange mixture of emotions he held for Helen in their future. It was indeed best that they never meet again. Though that truth pained him.