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It had been three years since the fateful night at Cimetière du Père-Lachaise.
Three years exactly since Leta had died at Grindelwald’s hands.
Theseus took a sip of his lukewarm Stella Artois.
He had no habit of drinking, but the reminder of Leta’s fate always made him feel melancholic, and as Newt was travelling - again - somewhere to help this or that beast, and he himself was in Galway on business, he thought going to a muggle pub and drink some beer in solitude would keep his mind busy.
It did not.
With a sigh, Theseus rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. Grindelwald was defeated and had been for a while thanks to Dumbledore and his own younger brother, but he still didn’t feel as though it was over. He did not have closure.
Maybe he was a bit damaged, feeling that he would only be satisfied if he actually saw Grindelwald die with his own eyes after he had cost him Leta, but he did not really care. He was not in love with her anymore, even though he suspected she would always hold some part of his heart. But now he knew that he would continue to live even when she had taken some of it with her.
That had been quite the startling realisation.
He had even tried to get back into the dating scene, but most women he met through work knew him or at least they knew of him and he did not want to talk about what had happened to his poor heart again and again and again.
Deciding he needed a smoke and some fresh air, Theseus sat the beer down on the counter of the bar.
“I’ll be back in a moment.”
The bartender only grunted in response.
It was a cold night in Galway. Not so cold that it was uncomfortable, but still enough to make Theseus wrap his coat a bit tighter around himself. After fiddling with the muggle lighter for a second, the cigarette was finally lit. He huffed out some smoke into the night sky.
“You wouldn’t happen to have another one?” A voice asked from his side.
His head turned to see a pretty brunette with wild curly hair, who was eyeing his cigarette speculatively.
When he did not answer immediately she continued. “Because I left mine at the place I’m staying at and I would kill for a smoke right about now.”
Theseus shook his head. “Sorry, that’s my last one.”
The women sighed. “Thank you either way.”
When she turned on her heel to head inside the pub, Theseus heard himself offer, “we can share, though.” He took the cigarette from his lips and held it out to her.
It took a second, but then a speculative smile came over the woman’s face.
“Thank you.” She took the cigarette and hummed appreciatively when she let the smoke escape from her nostrils.
They stood in silence for a while, just passing the cigarette back and forth until it had burnt down to the filter.
“Theseus,” he said without offering his hand.
“Hermione,” she replied, again smiling at him.
Her curls were unbelievably wild, yet the rest of her seemed quite delicate, her features on the paler side and her stature almost petite. Her eyes seemed to be black, but he realised that the lighting outside the pub was just horrible and was masking its true hue. It did not matter what colour her eyes were in that moment though - just that she looked at him as though she actually saw him and not his job or his past.
“Want to join me inside?” She suggested.
“Sure.”
While their evening had started in silence while sharing a cigarette in front of the pub, it turned out Hermione and Theseus got on like a house on fire.
Theseus prided himself on his intelligence and his hard-working nature - which was basically a given, he had been absolutely right in Hufflepuff - and she seemed to possess these same traits.
She was also even bossier than he was, which was saying a lot about both of them.
He did not care that she was a muggle. He only cared that for the first time in a long time, he had genuine fun in another’s presence.
The later it got, the more they drank and the more they talked. They also played a game of darts - where she beat him without even properly trying - and billiards - where she did not just beat him, she obliterated him.
After Hermione had thrown her head back in laughter because of Theseus’ utter indignation over being crushed in both games, he had followed an instinct and pulled her to him. Hermione stopped laughing and just stared at him with big eyes. He could finally see their colour, a warm honey-brown.
Theseus carefully kissed Hermione’s cheek. “Care for a dance?”
He did not mind that no one in the pub was dancing besides them, but they had a band here playing irish folk music, so they might as well enjoy themselves, shouldn’t they?
So they did.
They only stopped when the bartender started closing down the pub.
Hermione looked in Theseus’ eyes and her hands went from where they had been around his neck from dancing up into his hair.
Suddenly he was feeling quite nervous, but before he could say something, Hermione had pulled his face down to hers and was kissing him as though there was no one else in the room.
The kiss made him feel breathless and lightheaded, and his hands were holding onto her so tightly that he would worry in hindsight whether he had bruised her.
When the bartender called “Oi!” they finally broke apart.
Hermione had a smile on her lips that seemed brighter than the sun and Theseus was slightly dazed. It took him a moment before he had his wits gathered again.
“Want to come back to my place?”
“I almost thought you would not ask.”
When he woke up in the morning, the sun was shining through the window. He stretched and felt a flutter in his chest when he thought about the phenomenal night he had shared with the wonderful woman that he had met.
But when he turned around to wrap her up in his arms, there was no one there. The blankets were rumpled, but there were no woman’s clothing left on the floor around the bed.
Theseus sat up abruptly.
It seemed Hermione had left.
Theseus was quite upset with himself when he returned to London from his business trip.
Not that working with the Irish Aurors had not gone well, quite the opposite, but he was still wrapped up in thoughts about the mysterious Hermione that he had not seen again after their night.
He felt ridiculous, developing some sort of crush after spending one single night with her.
Things only got worse when two weeks later he came across a new member of the Department of Mysteries.
He had come to ask for help with the research of a rather complicated case and had walked into one of the offices without really caring which of the researchers helped him.
What he had found there was Hermione.
Sh sat behind her desk, looked up when he walked into the room and was apparently speechless for a second. Her eyes had blown wide and she put her quill down.
“Theseus.” Her voice sounded very quiet and surprised.
“Hermione.” He was not faring any better than her.
“You are not a muggle,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Neither are you.”
They just stared at each other for an uncomfortable second.
The invitation rushed out of his mouth before he realised it. “Will you have dinner with me?”
She nodded, still dazed.
Theseus left her office with the promise to send her an owl after he got her last name - Granger - so they could come up with a day and time for their date and his thoughts started spinning around the question, what he had to do to make her his.
Because when he had seen her again, he had been reminded of how quickly everything can change – how fast people can disappear from your life. So why should he go slow and be patient, when all he wanted to do was go as fast as he could?
He would do a lot of things to make her his, to see her smile, to know that he would be her first good day and her last good night. He did not want a fleeting or short experience with her, he wanted her to be his. And he wanted to be hers.
Luckily for Theseus, Hermione quite agreed with him on not wanting a short-lived fling.
Meeting him had been the best thing that had happened to her since she had been thrown back in time, losing all of her family and friends. But with Theseus she felt as though she could breathe again. She had left after they met in the pub in Galway, thinking he was a muggle and not wanting to cause herself any more heartache than she would already have from their brief time together, and had snuck away without a goodbye. But he was no muggle. She would not have to keep secrets from him. Her heart felt lighter than it had in the almost two years since she was in the past.
So while Theseus wondered what he would have to do to make Hermione his, the answer was already there, as simple as it was.
He just had to be himself.