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The last dance is slow.

One

Two

One—

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.

Newt quakes as the organ's dulcet tones sweeten and mellow. His question tumbles out clumsily like a jarring note.

"Tell me, Theseus, what would a war hero do?"

His brother spares a wry glance.

"Merlin, Newt, what's that? There are no war heroes. Only heroes who happen to be in a war."

"What were you, then?"

"Exonerated for my sins." Theseus wrests his cufflinks back in place. "I get all this despite everything I've done."

"Does it… change you?"

"Some." His brother looks away. "Yes."

The mind wanders, wearily, grudgingly sometimes.

(Is he doing the right thing? What if things changed, after, even during the war? Would he, would Tina still—?)

His elder brother's eyes flick over him, senses sharp.

"You'll change together, you know. Cherish that. Cherish her."

"I do," Newt says. "But I'm not you, Theseus. This - this feels beyond me, sometimes. Why else would this be so terrifying?"

Theseus reaches to muss his little brother's hair, fondly, reflexively, then stops and retracts.

"One of us is the true best man. It's not me, Newton."

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Two

One

Two—

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.

She's momentarily, shamefully unwound. Liquid drips from her nose. "I knew, if I'm to be a war bride, I'd rather be close to him when it happens. But it still feels unreal. This…in the middle of-of everything."

Her sister's hug crushes her lungs, holding all of Tina's pieces together. "Oh Teen. We always knew one of us would be the brave one."

"That's you," Tina scoffs, inhales snot and wetness. "You married Jacob."

"No, Jacob was the one who left everything to be with me. Now you're leaving everything you know, to be with him."

"Are you angry with me?"

Deft wand work restores the blushing bride's face, at least.

"No." A shaky sigh. "It's just so soon, to feel like I'm losing you. It's like yesterday, you dragging Newt and Jacob into our apartment."

Tina nods, and Queenie's careful hands unfurl the veil.

A constant vision of Tina's past is slowly, by the inches, hazed behind exquisite eyelet lace.

"Are you ready?"

Tina rasps something in response. Something reassuring. Something adult.

Something incomprehensible.

"Love you always, Teenie," Queenie beams through the pale eyelet, as Tina watches her own smile break inside of her little sister's swimming eyes. "But Newt loves you, too. Maybe more. Maybe."

"You'll never forgive him if he doesn't, Queenie." And Tina tries her best to muster a laugh, because she's expected to be the brave one.

(The world, you see, has it all backwards.)

Queenie, beyond words, merely nods. From the hallway door, Jacob looks on, his gaze soft on his wife.

Finally, the No-Maj (again, the world gets it wrong, with these labels) pads over and extends an arm to Tina.

"You ready, Tina?"

Her Legilimens sister is the first to know.

That's likely why Queenie's crying, choking out the answer.

"She is."

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One

Two—

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.

His friend's voice is firm.

"Remember this moment, Newt."

"I-I'll try."

He knows he looks bewildered, weepy too, perhaps.

He's showing everything he knows he shouldn't show, but Jacob is still grinning and Newt remembers (again, again, and again) why he keeps Jacob around. Why Jacob lets him, really.

"Hey. It's your big dance with your girl. Go."

And it's a warm, firm, baker's hand that sends Newt off onto the floor, toward a dazzling vision in white.

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One—

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.

He's in front of her, and surprisingly, all those tales about this moment being just you and him in the world are true.

Tina looks into his familiar eyes, green and gleaming against the golden fairy lights.

"Dance?" Newt asks hopefully.

She moves in, gown swishing then stopping.

"You were so patient with me that time, weren't you? All this time."

Strong arms draw her in all the way. His breath tickles her ear.

"I've been reminded all two weeks of how impatient I am. Great-Aunt Lucrezia nearly had a conniption when we asked her to use Theseus' leftover paper to send out our invites. Not that there were a lot of them to send."

"There was no right time. But that's fine." She interlaces their fingers. "I just want you."

"Alright," Newt says, as his fingers alight on Tina's waist. "You'll have me. You have me already, Mrs. Scamander."

Her hand settles on his shoulder and they start.

.

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The last dance is slow.

.

.

"Your hands are shaking."

"It's okay, Newt. Go slow."

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Two

One.

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