How to survive a magical courtship (and adopt dozens of fantastic beast in the process)

The first time Percival Graves heard the name Newt Scamander was after MACUSA's aurors broke into Grindelwald's hideout.

The Director of Magical Security, weak and exhausted, had barely raised his face when one of his prison walls was blown away.

And it is that in the three months that he had been a prisoner of the dark magician, his constant mental torture had taken this form several times: that of his subordinates coming to rescue him under the cover of night. The blond European had sadistically enjoyed seeing the light of hope disappear in Percival's eyes every time as the illusion faded and only remained the certainty that his jail and his jailer were still there, laughing at his weakness and the fact that his subordinates couldn’t distinguish between the impostor and his person.

"Poor Director. So efficient that he forgot that the only way one can survive in this world is loyalty" Grindelwald whispered once in his ear as he cut his hair for the potion that increased the power of the enchantment he used to take his appearance "And loyalty could never be cultivated by barking at people."

Graves couldn’t argue that.

His family had ancestry and history as one of the original ones within the first twelve MACUSA aurors, but in those years they didn’t necessarily have the economic support to reach places that others easily reached, so his ambition had been cemented in his management results.

In keeping the Department of Law Enforcement running as efficiently as the clock in the hall of the headquarters of the Magical Congress of the United States of America.

And, for this, its Director had to be what the Presidents needed from him.

A fast, accurate and unshakable executing arm.

Unfortunately, those characteristics seemed to be shared by the villains of the stories, which, evidently, had favoured Grindelwald in his impersonation.

Until Newt Scamander came along.

The only one who hadn't swallowed the impostor's deception and who had navigated through the dark wizard's lies, despite receiving constant slaps and hassles from MACUSA’s authorities for his creatures and his suitcase. The one who, without hesitating for a second, at seeing the desperation of his friend Tina Goldstein, had helped track down the missing Director of Magical Security and, along with the other aurors, free him from his prison.

Newt, in fact, was the first voice that in his feverish state, Percival, could distinguish among all other noises.

British accent, he supposed. Anything that will not sound familiar to his ears, always put him on alert.

“No! Don't touch his hands or feet!” he heard a clear voice very similar to those of his European comrades at the front during the War exclaim shortly after the wall was blown up “Those are shackles of the type that African nundus traffickers use!”

“But…”

Another voice began to protest, and Percival tried to make it out to whom belonged. Roberts? Fontaine maybe?

“Nundu shackles are not only located on the paws, in this case hands and feet,” the first voice with a British accent continued “but also on the neck. Capturing a nundu is very difficult. Traffickers often rob each other. So, if someone tries to touch one of the hand or feet shackles, without first disabling the neck one, those shackles are set up to prevent one competitor from making profit out of another's effort...”

“Oh no…”

A female voice whispered as she realized that they had nearly make the restraints on their boss cut off his head.

The Director had wanted to hit his face with his hand then.

Was it possible that all of them acted like a bunch of rookies?

Hadn't Graves himself taught them to look for evidence and run diagnostics on any magical artifact present before releasing a prisoner?

Definitely his people, had to be thankful that he was near delirium from starvation and the cuts and bruises he had from captivity, because otherwise he'd be sending them all back to Ilvermorny for a crash course in primary precautions when facing a crime scene involving the presence of magical activity.

“Director Graves?” this time the British voice talked to him very close to his face “I ask for you not to be scared if you feel something moving in your neck, sir. Pickett is going to help you, but you need to be still for him to do so”

In any other circumstance, Percival would have been deeply ashamed of the groan-mixed growl that escaped his mouth, but he had been in that hell for too long and he no longer had the strength to move, so that was the only way left for him to show that he understood what they were asking.

Moments later a hand gently rested on his shoulder and he could feel something move near his neck. By sheer determination he was able to maintain the immobility that the British had requested, reigning over his feverish body, since the sensation was supremely strange. But, after a few minutes of feeling like what he had on his neck struggling with the lock on his collar shackle, the device opened and his body fell forward, since the shackles on his hands and feet had also been opened.

“Tina!”

He felt the Brit yell as the man grabbed Percival's body, which had literally fallen on top of him.

Other different hands helping to maneuver the dead weight that was the Director of Magical Security, announced to Graves that Goldstein had joined the foreigner in helping him. Clever girl. She never doubted. When he could return to the Department, once he managed to overcome everything that surely awaited him there, he was going to make sure to promote her to auror for good and to add her sister, Queenie, to the offices as secretary. The girls were efficient enough not to have to put up with anyone else's crap and shine where they should.

“What are you waiting for to bring a healer?!” exclaimed moments later the voice of the woman leaving him in the arms of the British “An invitation?! We have a wounded that need medical assistance!”

Several other voices apologized hastily, while footsteps indicated that the auror's companions had snapped out of their stupefaction to carry out the order she had given them.

If Percival had been strong enough, he would have smiled. The girl had mimicked his tone to perfection and had achieved that men bigger than her comply with her will. But, at that moment, exhaustion had caught him and, while warm arms held him carefully, he had allowed himself to be carried away by sleep.

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The second time he had heard the name Newt Scamander, it had been at the New York Magical Hospital.

Grindelwald had really done a nice number on the body of MACUSA's Director of Magical Security, making sure that the mediwizards wouldn't let him out of the ICU for two weeks and that the same doctors, after that, when he was more recovered, will still force him to a week of confinement in a private room.

Percival had hotly discussed the decision.

Three weeks was an enormous amount of time.

The Law Enforcement Department couldn't wait that long.

Yes, Grindelwald had already been transferred to England and was already a British problem, but that didn't take away the fact that he had been impersonating him for three months, having access to the highest levels of Government security.

Who knows with whom he had shared that information?

Who knows what devices or charms he had left behind at the Woolworth Building so that he or his followers could continue to receive information?

Graves couldn’t.

It was impossible for him to allow himself more recovery time.

The first two weeks Percival had accepted his fate, because he really wouldn't have been of any help. He drifted in and out of a potion-induced sleep while the mediwizards worked to repair his broken body and restore him to health.

But, after that time, when he could move quite freely, even though he couldn't walk normally yet, it seemed to him a real waste of time and an insanity to try to have him restricted to a bed, with a vase of flowers next to it, doing nothing.

“You cannot discharge yourself from the hospital, Director”

The mediwizard in charge of his case answered him with a sigh that had some notes of irritation.

“How come that I can’t? It is my right to decide on my own treatment!” Percival claimed to the specialist “The 87…”

“144 law, establishes that a patient can, if he or she wishes, continue or interrupt a treatment” the doctor said, rolling his eyes “I’m as professional as you are in my field, Director. I know the current regulations. However, both you and I answer to an authority. And President Picquery agrees with the decision of the board of mediwizards that has led your healing process. It is she, along with Newt Scamander, who oversee the time that this process takes and what has been used in it”

“Beg your pardon?”

The Director of Magical Security questioned the mediwizard in astonishment.

“That the President...”

“No, no” Percival intervened “Sera's… that is, that the President kindly decides to look after my well-being is not something that surprises me, but… Newt Scamander? A foreigner?”

“Mr. Scamander is a renowned magizoologist” the specialist explained “He has been recommended by St. Mungo's, which is our English equivalent in the treatment of Magical Maladies and Injuries, as an authority on the field of injuries derived from the use of artifacts and/or elements or potions designed for magical creatures and their consequences when they are irresponsibly or criminally applied to wizards and witches. From the moment you were released, Mr. Scamander has been our first reference when faced with any doubts in our decisions, since when he accompanied you to our institution with the aurors, it was he who detected that the criminal who had kidnapped you had decided that, for lack of a better explanation, it would be "entertaining" and "educational" to treat you like a beast and, therefore, all the injuries and damage inflicted on your system that we had to deal with were the result of the application of potions, spells, enchantments and elements not suitable for humans”

Percival swallowed as he heard the mediwizard's voice tell him with cool efficiency that not only had he been kidnapped and mistreated by Grindelwald, but that the wretch had also been using him as a guinea pig.

His body had been the object of experimentation by the dark wizard.

In MACUSA's Director of Magical Security the despicable man had decided to test the limits and reactions of a human organism to resist the application of everything that wizards over the years had developed to use on the magical creatures that surrounded them.

Graves's fists clenched over the covers on his bed.

Grindelwald had reduced him to the status of a beast and treated him as such.

The twisted sadist had made sure not only to give Percival the worst three months of his life, but to compromise his recovery once rescued, had the magizoologist not intervened.

“Mr. Scamander has also made sure to have you personally monitored, despite the fact that we already did it with sufficient efficiency” added the mediwizard “During the first two weeks of your recovery, he was not only present in the hospital and in your room for hours, but on repeated occasions we have had to expel several of his creatures who, while he was busy, acted as his replacement”

“Excuse me?”

“A Niffler is a problem, not a nurse, Director” the professional clarified at his obvious perplexity “The Bowtruckle was perfectly acceptable since his behavior wasn’t so disruptive, but when his master formally became part of the MACUSA auror corps the little fellow couldn’t continue fulfilling the job since, apparently, Mr. Scamander needs him by his side for the functions he must now carry out”

“I suppose so, our work includes opening locked places and a Bowtruckle could be extremely usef…” Percival began to say until the last part of what the doctor said had reached his brain “What? Part of MACUSA aurors?”

“From what I understand, the President herself decided to offer him the position after verifying the capacity of Mr. Scamander and the zeal he has put into your recovery, as well as restoring order in MACUSA” continued the specialist stifling a laugh, surely at the face that Percival had after hearing the novelty “Our colleagues on the other side of the Atlantic comment that in the British Ministry of Magic are not very happy with the President outmanoeuvring them. They apparently hoped that, once his highly anticipated book was published, Mr. Scamander would have accepted a better position in their ranks”

The Director of Magical Security blinked for a few seconds.

Well...

He had no doubt that Seraphina Picquery seeing the opportunity to steal a professional from the Brits, had done so without remorse. Especially if the man was an expert of a field that, frankly, the Americans didn't know much about.

More so if the guy in question was about to achieve fame with a publication that was awaited by one of the oldest Ministries of Magic in Europe and that also seemed so responsibly dedicated to his task that he achieved the respect of two medical institutions at both sides of the Atlantic.

Because it wasn't lost on translation that the mediwizards, like the one he was now talking to, were sufficiently impressed with the man to allow him to guide their medical decisions, invade their sanitary zones, and to permit illegal magical creatures onto the premises, with the sole purpose that Scamander could "monitor" Percival while he was busy helping the aurors to solve the mess left by Grindelwald.

This Newt must be an impressive person to achieve all that in such a short time.

“On the other hand, Director” the physician said, bringing him back to reality while he extended Graves wand with one hand and with the other pointed to some boxes that were against the wall “The fact that you are confined to this bed and this room for one week, doesn’t mean that we do not allow you to work. Just take it easy and remember that the more you push yourself, the less quickly you'll get back to work on full capacity”

Percival reached out then and practically snatched the wand from the mediwizard.

He had been far, far too long, away from that extension of himself.

Goldstein had assured him when visiting that Grindelwald had used his own wand by disguising it to look like the Director’s. That his wand, Percival's, wasn’t among the items that they had confiscated from the madman when he was captured.

A brief consolation among so much horror.

His wand had been a gift from his mother.

It was very important to Percival, since she had died before he finished his first year of school and it was practically the last memory he had of the two of them together.

He would have suffered its loss. Or its contamination by the hand of Grindelwald.

But no, there it was, safe and sound, with the same signature of his magic, almost screaming in his hand at being able to be with its owner again.

“Thank you”

He told the mediwizard then and the man nodded before leaving, already sure that he was not going to disobey.

Graves took a deep breath after the door had closed, plopping down on the pillow. It had been a horrible experience being held captive. One that, for the moment, was sufficiently blocked and that, with the help of the corresponding potions, wasn’t causing him trouble at sleeping. And, although he knew that sooner or later, like after the War, he would have to seek professional help to truly overcome it, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that he had had the perseverance and luck to survive that captivity. Gellert Grindelwald hadn’t achieved his goal. That MACUSA and Percival himself had managed to cause the first great defeat of the dark magician.

One more week of rest then, as the mediwizard said, it wasn't such a high price to pay in that context.

The Director of Magical Security then closed his eyes with satisfaction while still holding his wand, to open them an instant later when he felt movement on his pillow. Something had leaned on it.

Percival's instincts kicked in and he turned to point his wand at whatever was next to him, quickly lowering it when he saw a very unimpressed bowtruckle watching him with its arms crossed.

Being honest the surprise was so big that he didn't even manage to move when the little creature unlatched those arms and approached him to climb onto his shoulders, beginning a tour of the wizard's body that was very disrespectful of the Director's personal space.

“Hey! Hey!” Percival exclaimed as he felt the creature walk him from head to toe, until he was able to capture it with his fingers to put it back on the pillow “What are you doing?”

The bowtruckle pointed at him with one of its branch-arms, pointed to the set of potion vials he had on the table adjacent to his bed and the hospital bed he was in next, while emitting a series of sounds that the Director supposed would be the creature's language.

Yes, of course.

The mediwizard had told him, hadn't he?

The magizoologist's creatures stood in for their caretaker in monitoring Percival's condition when the Briton was occupied.

Apparently, that included checking that the mediwizards, and the Director himself, were honest about Graves' health.

And while he truly doubted that a bowtruckle was qualified to make that kind of assesments, he could understand that the little one had been given a mission and had a superior to answer to.

So, after clearing his throat, Percival sat on the bed and extended his hand so that the creature could get on and thus talk more comfortably with it.

“I'm getting better” he assured to his strange visitor “They have given me one more week of rest, but apparently I can work now, although with limitations. Can you tell your… friend? owner? that I am doing everything they tell me and that everything is going as it should”

The bowtruckle turned its head from side to side, as if weighing his words and judging whether he was lying or not. But, after a couple of minutes, the conclusion must have been favourable, since it dropped from his hand and nimbly got off the bed to disappear under the door.

Percival Graves laughed shaking his head once he was alone.

What had happened to his calm, orderly, and logical life that now he had ended in a hospital bed giving explanations to a magical creature that was little more than a tree branch to pass on to a foreign wizard he didn't know and who seemed to be something of a mini celebrity?

This time it was the turn of MACUSA's Director of Magical Security to sit back and ponder what had happened.

Newt Scamander.

Magizoologist.

Book author.

British.

Probably related to an old acquaintance of his from that country who had the same not very common last name.

Which would explain the fact that the man was stubborn enough to fight Sepherina and the New York Hospital staff so hard to basically having them after eating out of his hand.

Many questions remained to be answered in those first conclusions and, taking into account that the adventure that had linked them was focused on Grindelwald, the first box that was against the wall and that bore a sign with the name of the dark wizard would be a priority to be reviewed that afternoon, Graves thought, using his wand to lift the lid and levitate the reports and documents to his bed.

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The third time he heard the name of Newt Scamander, it was the time that he had come to know the man.

Although no, really that would be a bit untrue, since he had read the name of the magizoologist repeatedly in those days, when catching up with the reports, both in the hospital and outside it.

To say that he had ended up enthralled by reading what the British had experienced during his confrontation with Grindelwald and his subsequent capture was an understatement.

And it is that the guy didn’t look like a person prepared for combat, far from it.

The reports clearly revealed his relationship with Theseus Scamander, an old but distant acquaintance of Percival's from his days in Europe, who today turned out to be a sort of his equivalent in the British Ministry of Magic.

But the photo that accompanied the written reports spoke of someone very different from the auror and war hero.

For starters, Newt Scamander was much more physically interesting than his brother. More pleasing to the eye. Percival couldn't exactly explain it, but it could be reduced to the fact that what in Theseus could be read as authority and threat, in Newt, on the contrary, reflected calm and even shyness. The light eyes, the messy hair, the less severe clothes, the freckles that spread over his face and the gesture of discomfort in front of the camera, meant that no one could think that behind that image there would be a person capable of performing feats.

Which led him to think that the magizoologist must also be an accomplished actor, since no one who didn’t have full confidence and ruling over his abilities would have dared to cross the Atlantic in a ship full of No-Maj, with a suitcase populated with illegal creatures, to later embark on a monstrous-sized adventure with Tina Goldstein, in which he had ended up facing one of the most powerful magicians of his time on several occasions, even managing to participate in his capture and continue to get involved in MACUSA's activities, to the point of rescuing its Director from the prison where Grindelwald had locked him up, obtaining in the process that the President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America offered him a job for which many wizards and witches would sacrifice an arm without hesitation.

In that the boy was similar to his brother.

Theseus Scamander was a daring political beast with big goals.

Obviously, his younger brother showed that the Scamanders were men of ambition.

Fine. Percival could respect that. He too was a man with great ambitions who had built himself up to the position he now held.

So, once Roberts had finished giving him her news on the first morning he was able to set foot in his office, he had ordered without looking up from the parchment on which he was jotting down the report he was reading.

“Tell Goldstein and Scamander to come. They are the last ones that I need to see”

The auror nodded and left Percival's office, leaving the door slightly ajar.

A delicacy that his troops had developed in his absence and that, although he felt that he should make them stop doing it because he wasn’t made of glass for them to be taking such care, he couldn’t help but thank in silence.

Since his capture he couldn't stand closed doors.

He needed to feel the air moving around and to know that there was always a clear escape route.

Minutes later, a few steps in the distance announced that whoever he had summoned was approaching.

“Come in”

He invited while continuing to do what he had been doing. He had a mountain of reports and knew that Goldstein wasn’t going to be fazed by his attitude.

“Good morning sir”

“Auror Goldstein” Percival replied to the greeting “Any news that I have to know?”

“Th… this is Newt Scamander, Sir. He’s the new magizoologist of the Department. The President offered him to join the force while you were recovering, sir. He passed the exams and this is… his first day”

“Very good, Goldstein” he said to the girl, nodding as he completed the form 123/A for transportation marked as “urgent” “President Picquery already informed me of Mr. Scamander's incorporation. I hope you understand that having supported his designation, you will be in charge of guiding Mr. Scamander through the protocols, rules and requirements that come with working at MACUSA and that are not adequately explained in the exams”

“Yes sir. I got this. Don't worry”

The auror replied, sounding so relieved that her boss almost laughed.

Tina Goldstein couldn't know because curmudgeon Percival Graves didn't publicize his actions, but making her Newt Scamander's handler at MACUSA meant marking her as someone the Director had enough confidence in their abilities to task her with taking care of a person who might any accident happen, could well become an international incident between Ministries.

Neither his second nor his third in command had been considered for the job.

Which made it very clear to all the members of MACUSA that the woman, despite having been promoted to a permanent position very recently, was already considered an equal in the auror’s corps and that she should be treated as such, regardless of her appearance, personal background or gender.

In a couple of weeks when the headstrong girl had excelled, as Percival knew she would, Queenie Goldstein would also be transferred to the auror offices. The blonde had spent too much time enduring discrimination because of her status as legilimens, when she could be perfectly useful in his Department, avoiding having to put up with certain imbeciles who didn't understand that a woman could be pretty and not being looking for nobody.

Which reminded Precival that he needed to have a serious talk with Abernathy about the limits he expected that his subordinate has once Queenie worked under Graves command.

Of course, before that happened, he knew he had to space out both appointments or Seraphina would end up pestering him on that he had softened with age or that his own troops would start questioning his sanity.

“That'll be all. You two are dismissed”

He expressed refocusing on the reports, almost instantly forgetting the two people in front of him.

It had been a long couple of days since he got out of the hospital and, with the amount of paperwork he had to go through and that seemed not to decrease but to increase, he didn’t expect that the hours that the work was taking him would be reduced if he didn’t put his total attention in to it.

So, at hearing feet scuffling on the floor and the clear voice of Tina Goldstein hissing “Newt, what are you doing? Let's go!” made him stop halfway through what he was writing and slowly look up.

Had the Briton been expecting special treatment?

Honestly.

The boy's daring.

However, before his tongue rescued some sharpness of those that characterized him to say, the man, who hadnt lowered his gaze at any time, expressed with obvious nervousness.

“I like your vest! I-I mean it looks good on you!”

“You said you liked my... vest?”

The Director of Magical Security questioned a now very blushing Newt Scamander, while he couldn't help but raise an amused eyebrow.

“Y-yes! But I... I also think you look nice... today”

Time stopped at that moment, as Percival's brain processed the scene where he was at a thousand kilometres per second.

In his office, more full of reports than comforts.

The one where his new magizoologist, out of the blue, had decided that the first time he met his new boss his best letter of introduction was to turn red as a tomato while complimenting that said boss appearance.

Why…?

Well, it wasn't that he was stupid.

On the contrary.

Percival was fully aware that, for his age, he didn’t keep everything, but something of his youthful charm remained and he could still make that a couple of heads turned in his path, but this was the first time that he had caused such an impression that the person in question had decided to risk his skin and work by making his interest evident in a few words at their first encounter.

Likewise, seconds later, Percival Graves, MACUSA's Director of Magical Security had growled internally feeling an enormous urge to slap his own face.

Of course.

It wasn't the first time, was it?

Practically since his rescue Newt Scamander had been letting him know that he was interested.

Not only had the man come, when no duty bound him, to rescue Percival, but he had been actively involved in his recovery, devising, as the mediwizard had told Graves, the best way to cure his multiple and particular injuries, spending hours at his side while he had been unconscious when Scamander had no previous relationship with the American that will force him to do so to the point of entrusting his creatures to watch over Percival in case the expert had to be absent.

And not only that.

The Brit had also decided to decline a very good position at the British Ministry of Magic the first chance Seraphina gave him to stay.

Could it be that Percival’s keen senses, so often praised by his bosses and peers, had been so spoiled during those months of captivity?

Naturally he should have thought that something strange was happening for the youngest of the Scamanders to decide to move to New York, leaving the comforts of his native country and the protection of a very well positioned Theseus Scamander. Especially when the brown-haired man was about to make a name for himself by producing a book rumoured to be out of print before it went on sale.

Perhaps what his mind had subconsciously wanted to avoid was having inappropriate thoughts of his new permanent auror, since she had, after all, rather enthusiastically championed the magizoologist's cause. But now that he could see how the British adventure companion was looking at the expert, pale for his audacity and with her mouth so open that a few more millimeters and touched the ground, Percival could safely conclude that there was no relationship or mutual interest between them.

What there was...

"Goldstein" thought the Director amused, getting up from his chair "I would never have imagined that you were a closeted romantic"

Percival sighed softly as he directed his steps towards the boy, while the woman tried to find excuses for her new friend's behavior.

Percival wasn’t going to deny it.

He was probably almost as flushed as Newt Scamander himself.

And it is that, although he was aware that he still had the touch, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence that someone appeared at his office door to literally telling to his face that he liked the Director.

"Poor boy" he reasoned when saw that the magizoologist lowered his gaze and began to stammer some excuse at realizing what he had done "Surely he has been planning this meeting all these weeks and he comes and his anxiety make him act like this"

Okay. He probably didn't have much to reproach to Tina Goldstein when, judging by the warmth that spread through his body at the thought of that adorable boy planning his steps with the Goldsteins to win him over, it was pretty clear that in the field of closeted romanticism they were even.

Well.

Moment of truth

Percival told himself, widening his smile before answering the compliment he had received with one of his own as equally absurd.

“Thank you. I think you look gorgeous. Blue is your color; it complements your eyes”

Mercy Lewis.

If that was the reaction he was going to get every time, he might as well surrender to that boy.

The magizoologist looked up again, clearly astonished, blinking for a few moments, then reddened much more than he already was.

It was crystal clear that he had expected the Director of Magical Security to kick him out of his office.

But no, Percival Graves hadn't survived Gellert Grindelwald to bury his head in the ground like an ostrich. If life, after coming so close to losing it, gave him this opportunity, he was going to hold it for as long as he could.

“I was rude before, I'm sorry," he said, advancing a couple of steps and extending a hand in greeting “I should introduce myself properly this time... I'm Percival Graves. But you can call me Percival”

“Newt Scamander” the magizoologist replied, holding his hand without hesitation and responding to the greeting “But Newt is fine. Everybody calls me Newt”

They both lowered their hands at the same time, still looking at each other smiling, when Tina Goldstein's voice reminded them that they weren't alone.

“We should go now. We won't bother you anymore, Sir. I know how busy you are”

Yes.

The blessed forms and reports.

Which should have been ready and delivered yesterday.

None the less, he didn't feel any guilt as he told the auror without taking his eyes off the British.

“Actually, I think I'll explain Newt the rules and I'll show him around. It's his first day after all. But you can return to your desk, Goldstein. I'll take care of him”

He had to give it to the woman.

She hadn’t sought explanations for what had happened.

She had simply accepted that her friend hadn't ruined his chances and that his boss wasn't scolding her and had taken to her heels, while Percival suggested to his new sentimental interest that they take a seat by the window so they could talk, away from the crowd of papers in the only decent piece of furniture in the place, while his mind made a list of things he had to have there from now on, at the top of which was tea decent enough to satisfy an English palate.