Flowers, books and surprises, or how the life of Percival Graves had ended upside down
The days after the revelation of how Newt felt about him had been incredibly lovely and constructive.
Percival recognized that it was probably the novelty speaking, since he was no longer a teenager to be reacting like a lovesick fool, but he hadn't denied himself to enjoy what was happening either.
Now it was a pleasure to go to work, both due to the presence of the magizoologist and the fact that the hours he spent in the place had improved a lot, thanks to his decision to transform some things so as not to fail in his new relationship.
First change: Percival had expedited Queenie Goldstein's arrival at the Department.
To hell with what others might think. He couldn't be buried in papers all damn day if he wanted to date someone seriously. Especially if he needed to have time to set up better his office and look for a new apartment, since the one he previously owned the idiot of Grindelwald had decided to use it as his base of operations and it stank of dark magic. And it’s that, it turned his stomach to think of Newt visiting his home to find any evidence of the guy's presence, or that the magizoologist will come to his workspace and consider that Percival was a man lacking in taste since this was empty for more or less the same reasons.
The girl, in that sense, had been a blessing.
With his ability to read thoughts, Graves didn't even need to say a word, and half his work was divided among his subordinates, giving him time to do what he wanted to do, while his staff felt valued for the first time by receiving the trust of their boss to solve minor issues alone.
Even Seraphina had praised the change, when she had visited him a couple of days ago.
“My informants tell me that, for the first time in decades, the Director of Magical Security retires to his home at the actual end of the working day” the President joked as she sat in the new chair that decorated his renovated office, receiving an aromatic cup of coffee from his hands “Tell me, Mr. Graves, should I take out my wand and practice another Revelio on your person?”
Percival chuckled and shook his head, sitting across from her with his own coffee in hand.
“My time in the hospital made me see things with a different perspective, Sera”
“How?”
“I’m already at the place that I wanted to be. I don't intend to be President like you, but to remain running MACUSA for as long as possible and… the Grindelwald episode taught me that I have to change my environment and my attitudes, if I want to keep the position”
“Percival” the woman clarified, leaving the cup on the coffee table “Any President will be extremely happy to count you among the officials, you shouldn't worry about it”
“Well, not if that President has to worry that my aurors can't distinguish me from an impostor, because I have such a bad character and reactions that they can't relate to me on a human and personal level”
“Your staff loves you, Graves”
“Sera, I appreciate your kindness, but let’s not lie to each other. We both had to make enormous sacrifices to get where we are, and we haven't left many happy hearts in our path”
The woman then got up and walked around the office thinking while she observed the changes that with Queenie's help Percival had made to the place: more spacious, warm and comfortable furniture, a small bar with hot and cold drinks, a couple of filing cabinets that were designed to sort, select, and return paperwork that required his participation hiding the amount of forms and reports from view, a closet, various curtains, wallpaper, and rugs.
“Have you found a new apartment?”
The President finally asked, sitting back down.
“I have, only that it isn’t an apartment, but a house” the Director clarified “Since the kidnapping, apartment buildings suffocate me”
“Damn Grindelwald” Picquery murmured, drinking her coffee again “I hope someone kill him soon”
“Now who blames herself for something you couldn't foresee” Percival pointed out “That wretch has infiltrators everywhere. Enough that you prevented him from convincing one of our own. Now what happens, on the other side of the Atlantic if the British lost it, it isn’t your problem”
“Aren't you afraid he'll come back?”
“No, I don't think he will” Graves explained “His fight is other continent. His stay in our country was a maneuver to lower the intensity that the British Ministry of Magic had put into catching him. And, now without the obscurial in our territory, less attractive we are”
“Speaking of which” the President questioned, raising an eyebrow while a smile spread on her face “How is our new magizoologist adapting to MACUSA? Does he still want to stay? Because certain rumors says that the Director of the organization follows in his footsteps very closely”
Of course, he had dodged the blow as best he could.
Percival had enough that Queenie Goldstein would snicker every time she saw him open his office door for Newt.
He wasn't going to add to it having President Picquery make witty remarks about his… nascent relationship with the magizoologist.
No.
Both Percival and Newt were going at a comfortable pace for both of them and didn't need anyone puncturing the bubble in which their days unfolded.
Which brought him to the second transformation that had occurred in his way of working: now he stopped to consider certain things that, in the past, he wouldn’t have paid attention to.
Like his new secretary's romantic relationship with a certain Jacob Kowalsky, No-Maj and baker, or Newt's suitcase of magical creatures.
Both were matters widely prohibited by law.
Issues that MACUSA should denounce and regulate.
However, he hadn’t had the heart to admonish the blonde girl who went every day to her obliviated lover's bakery to seek for him to remember her. Nor to demand that the British get rid of his most illegal animals or leave them in a zoo.
He had simply searched through his regulation tomes and found the legal loopholes necessary to authorize Queenie to visit openly with a No-Maj and to draw up a stack of permits for each of the creatures Newt had listed as possessing.
Which, clearly, had turned out to be a tremendous success, if one took into account the emotional hug from the second of the Goldsteins and the smile that had lit up the Briton's face and that had caused the day after the President had appeared In his office, a smiling Newt Scamander will be found in the same place, holding the famous suitcase in his hands.
“Percival! Hello!”
The boy told him enthusiastically and the Director of Magical Security couldn't help but laugh a little before going over and hugging him.
“Hello Newt, how are you?”
Graves answered after releasing the magizoologist.
“We... well” half stumbled Scamander answering “I know that maybe you can't, but... do you have a few free moments?”
“Oddly enough, I have them” he acknowledged “Miss Goldstein ordered my commitments so that I don't need to be in a meeting for another hour”
“Magnificent!” Newt commented smiling broadly as he put his suitcase on the floor, opening it “Everyone in the office always tells me that you're very busy and that you don't have time, that's why it wasn't right to distract you so you could see…”
Percival sighed and walked over to the Brit, squatting down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Newt, my aurors are still…” he began to say, but then he stopped, it was no use disguising the truth “Before Grindelwald, I wasn't the person with the greatest social life that existed. But after what happened, let's just say I'd be taking it easy, especially at work”
The smile that spread across the magizoologist's face told him that being honest with his partner had been the best strategy.
“I'm glad to hear that” Newt told him “I also tend to get distracted by work and Tina and Queenie keep scolding me because I forget to eat sometimes”
The Director of Magical Security held back the reaction of scrunching up his face in sympathy for Newt, since he could imagine that having the Goldstein sisters call you out wasn’t the best situation to be in, but it also coincided with the girls that not eating properly could become a problem in the long-term.
However, he didn't say anything while the Briton got into his suitcase, disappearing inside it.
Percival sighed again, laughing low.
That one device alone broke at least ten different regulations in America.
And when he said America, he didn't mean just the United States, but the whole damn continent.
“Aren’t you coming?”
Startled him the question that Newt's head peeking out of the suitcase made.
“I thought that... you were going to come back with one of your... Do you want me to...? Can I really come in?”
Graves tangled with questions as he realized that Newt was opening the door to his personal sanctuary.
“Percival, you wrote and signed an authorization for each of the fifty creatures that I have in mi suitcase, of course that I want…”
“That's not why I did it” the Director interrupted him “You don't have to show me anything, Newt”
“But they want to see you! Well, Pickett said he didn't mind much if you came to visit, but I promised Dougal you'd come…”
“Dougal?”
“My demiguise” Newt explained, gesturing with his hands “He got excited when I showed them the authorizations and insisted on sticking his to his hanging bed…”
“Newt Scamander” Percival interrupted him, holding back his laughter “You let a demiguise stick a MACUSA authorization signed by its Director to his hanging bed?”
“It's that Dougal... demiguise are very intelligent creatures. They understand what is happening around them. They understand us” Newt explained, lowering his gaze “But most wizards persecute them because with their fur you can make invisible cloaks and since crimes are often committed with them, the Ministries classified them as dangerous, which made the lives of the magicians who welcomed and protected them impossible and that…”
“Demiguise were more persecuted than before” finished the sentence for Newt the Director “By made it clandestine, they didn’t reduce the demand but rather increased the price of their skins and the poor beasts paid the price”
“It’s the first time that Dougal feels safe”
The magizoologist added in a low voice.
Percival was definitely going to make extra time in order to sit down with Newt and go over any and all regulations on magical creatures. Because those mistakes couldn’t be allowed. Even an idiot could see that something like that was not well worded and that it was going to make things worse for wizards and creatures alike.
“I'll make you a copy of the authorizations” he told the British then, raising the man’s chin with one of his fingers so that he could look him in the eye “Then, if they ask you, you don't have to be looking for them and your creatures can have their own parchment that give them peace of mind”
There was that smile again.
That totally illuminated the face of the usually embarrassed boy, highlighting the freckles on his cheeks and that only appeared when one had done something truly good or nice, or when its owner felt comfortable enough with whoever he was with.
“Thank you” the magizoologist told him, to disappear again in the suitcase and return seconds later “Are you coming?”
The Director of Magical Security again stifled a laugh and nodded, following his partner into the artifact.
“Watch your head”
He heard Newt say when he finished descending the stairs and found what looked like a cabin or hut, covered with books, jars and implements of the profession of the British.
“Don’t worry…”
Percival began to answer when he felt two arms slide around his waist and grab his coat.
“It’s better that you don’t use this outside”
He heard Newt say almost in his ear, while taking off the garment.
The American swallowed as he felt the magizoologist's fingers slide over his shoulders.
Could it be that Newt had made that he enter the suitcase for other reasons?
Well.
It wasn’t that he was against that.
But it had been a surprise.
After all those days in which he had gotten to know Newt Scamander better, he had come to the conclusion that the boy had used all his sentimental courage to propose to him in the way he had done when they first met.
Although it seemed that he had made a little mistake in his conclusions, since, evidently, the presence of Percival made Newt act differently than normal.
And it made the experience of being by the magizoologist side a huge ego boost combined with a dizzying ride on a broomstick.
But, before the head of America's aurors could turn around and grab his boyfriend for an intense make-out session against his own desk, the amazing Brit broke away and after hanging the jacket on an coat rack where his own blue coat was already hanging, he called Graves with his hands to follow him outside.
Percival breathed in and out deeply before following.
That boy was going to be his downfall.
Definitely.
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It was wrong.
Percival knew it.
At that time, his senses should be focused on the criminal who was on the other side of the door where he was waiting for the arrival of the aurors in charge of the case: Weiss and Fontaine.
But it was impossible for a smile not to appear on his face every time he remembered the account that Newt had made of the fiasco that Burdock Muldon, Chief of the Wizards Council in the fifteenth century, had carried out when he had summoned the magical creatures considered "beings" and not "beasts" according to his own questionable classification.
When Graves read about that reunion he had to stop to laugh for a long time.
It’s that the anecdote was magnificent.
The guy had determined, without any consultation with the magical creatures themselves, that "beings" were those that walked on two limbs, while "beasts" would be those that walked on more than two. And not satisfied with that, said Chief had called a summit that, naturally, had ended in disaster, with everything and episode of slipping in excrement included.
That situation, told with the direct and entertaining narrative of his partner, became much more hilarious and certainly educational.
He had no doubt that "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" wouldn’t only be a publishing success that would make its creator famous, earning Obscurus Books notoriety and profit, but would also become required reading material in all Schools of Magic and Auror Corps around the World.
Percival had devoured the book.
Literally.
And then he had sent a letter to Seraphina commenting on it and suggesting that they get together to review the budget, since after reading how the stinginess of the British Ministry of Magic by paying two measly sickles a week had made them lose one of their more promising members, make him determined that the Magical Congress of the United States of America wouldn’t make the same stupid mistake.
Thank heavens, the President, who had also received a copy of the book, agreed with his conclusions and, between them, that same morning, they had drawn up a new contract for Newt, which included a salary increase and support in his investigations and travels, since Seraphina Picquery had been deeply impressed by how much Newt had managed to find out about the creatures of North America, with just a few days of exploration and that, although he hadn’t added them to the printed edition at the express request of the President herself, he had made a special addition in handwriting on extra sheets that he had adhered to the volume that he had given to his boyfriend when he invited him to visit his suitcase.
The Director of Magical Security had been very proud and grateful upon receiving one of the five copies that had been brought to the New World from its author, and flying through the roof once he had finished reading it.
Newt Scamander was an exceptional adventurer, with a talent for observation and delightful pen style.
And he had chosen him, out of all the people in the world.
Which was why he'd sent him a bouquet of flowers that morning, to be purposely delivered to the office where Newt had his desk.
He would probably have to deal with an incredible number of stares and whispers afterwards, because the message of the forget-me-nots combined with the gloxinias was, in a place where practically everyone had attended Ilvermorny, damningly clear.
Eternal love and at first sight.
To which was added a card signed with his name, with which Percival Graves openly declared his serious intentions towards the British.
“We believe he's part of a group that's trafficking with some kind of venom and we need to be sure what kind of venom it is”
Percival heard Fontaine's voice explaining from a distance the investigation case that was going to occupy them and regaining his composure, he crossed his arms behind his back waiting for his subordinates.
Of course, that attitude lasted as long as it took him to turn around and discover that the magizoologist was accompanying the other two.
A smile spread across his face when he saw that Newt was beginning to blush just looking at him, but he didn't avoid responding to his smile with one of his own.
“Did you like the flowers?”
Graves asked, inwardly cursing that they couldn't have that conversation in his office or in a nicer place than the interrogation cells.
“Of course!” Newt replied without hesitation “They're beautiful, thank you”
Naturally, his joy and pleasure upon hearing that the magizoologist had accepted the publicity of the message and was pleased with his move, was interrupted by his aurors.
Hearing the choking sound of one of them, he turned his gaze and discovered that Weiss was coughing and Fontaine was hitting his back, while they both stared at him with wide eyes.
Mercy Lewis.
Did they think that he was made of stone and that he couldn't fall in love like any neighbor's son?
The Director of Magical Security frowned, deciding that while he'd meant to be a little nicer, those two had earned a proper scolding, so he told them in his coldest voice.
“Coffee was too hot or what? I need you to focus here”
“Yes, sir”
Fontaine responded, while her partner only managed to nod.
“Well, tell me everything you know”
He asked them crossing his arms, since the aurors were in charge of the case.
“Name's James Clarke. Lives in Brooklyn. He has 35, no family. We believe he started working with the group about a year ago. He says they've been trafficking all kinds of venoms, although to be honest I think he has no idea what kind of products they've been selling. Says he doesn't know who's in charge”
Yeah, sure.
And Percival was a ballet dancer.
“Well see about that," assured the Director grinning with malice "Follow me, Newt”
His senses order themselves the moment he opened the door and, although that didn’t avoid hearing that his subordinates were convinced that the prisoner had dug his own grave by getting the head of MACUSA Security to decide to interrogate him, his own body was predisposed to the task he had accomplished so many times.
Like Newt with his creatures and his suitcase, this was Percival Graves' territory.
The executor of the order.
“You'll answer every single question he asks you, is that clear?”
Moments later, almost in a growl, he warned the badly dressed subject with brown hair who they found in the cell.
“Ask away, doll”
Okay.
Evidently something in his usual intimidating performance wasn't working, because the jerk who was supposed to be shitting his pants when he saw MACUSA's Director of Magical Security appear in front of him, dressed in full black and scowling, not only dared not to answer him directly, but to address Newt using inappropriate terms while smiling.
Fontaine was right.
He was going to kill this guy.
“Don't call him that”
Graves warned, leaning over so that this time the man could see his face and understand that he wasn't joking.
“R-Right. Sorry”
The criminal staggered at answering and Percival nearly licked his lips with the idiot's fear, while his partner, having gotten over the moment of awkwardness he had experienced thanks to the delinquent, asked a series of questions that made the Director even more pleased to have the magizoologist as part of his team.
Newt, without the need for anyone to tell him, had guided the man in such a way that he would answer things that, at first glance, seemed innocent: color and aroma of the poison, effects that it produced, recommended doses. The accuracy of the criminal's answers had surely led the British to delimit the type of creature they would have to deal with in case of rescue, but also the American to know that a mediwizard or potionist was in charge of the operations, since the prisoner that they were interrogating was clear that had barely finished the basic education.
“It has to be Acromantula”
Newt concluded, and as the magizoologist asked the offender how many creatures they possessed, Percival resisted the urge to put his hand on Newt's shoulder to comfort him.
The references to the Acromantulas from “Fantastic Beast” were still fresh on his mind. Not only were they extremely dangerous creatures that couldn’t be domesticated and had been created by wizards in Borneo specifically to attack humans and other wizards and witches as protectors of temples and treasures, but, as Newt had added in his own handwriting in Graves' copy, the venom of the huge spiders, couldn’t be extracted and used as a weapon, without first killing the creature.
For what he knew that the slight hope that he had perceived in his lover's question was going to be destroyed into a thousand pieces when the guy admitted that he didn't know how many they had had and that, most likely, they were all already dead.
Unbelievable.
Doing all that damage just for money.
Because it was one thing to traffic merchandise or relics and another very different thing was to traffic living beings, creatures or people, with the sole purpose of destroying them for profit.
People capable of that kind of attitude turned his stomach.
“Don't be sad, doll. They're just beasts”
Said the guy and the nickname that Percival had specifically pointed out that he couldn’t use snapped him back to reality, just in time to see that the criminal had caught Newt's hand, since some enlightened idiot had decided it was okay to leave a criminal with no magical handcuffs inside an interrogation room.
His magic doubly whipped up by his anger fanned out across the room, accurately attacking the man who immediately released Newt and fell to his knees with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Are you well?”
Graves asked his partner who had turned to see him with an expression of astonishment impossible to ignore in his eyes.
The Director of Magical Security suppressed the smile that that had caused him and the tone with which Newt had assured him that he was fine, using Percival’s name and not his rank.
There would be time to indulge in his ego and the handsome Brit later.
In private.
Preferably in a place that didn't smell of the fear emanating from the thug and where he might not have to focus on his magic to punish, but rather on the blue eyes of his partner.
The next few minutes then passed in a back and forth of questions and answers that confirmed his suspicions. A mediwizard led the group. Kicked out of New York's Magical Hospital for petty crimes, the head criminal used his intellectual background and contacts to lead a group of neophytes and thugs into what he'd assured them would be a simple, high-paying job.
“That'll do” he told Newt releasing the criminal “Weiss and Fontaine will take it from here”
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It was Newt's fault, Graves told himself as he closed his home door and leaned against it, red with embarrassment.
It was definitely Newt’s fault this time.
Percival had only wanted to be kind and attentive, after how moved the interrogation had left the magizoologist when he discovered that the creatures involved in the crime had been sacrificed and the Director had offered to accompany him to the Goldstein’s house, since they no longer were in the building.
There had been no other intention on his part and only a little bit of teasing, until the British had asked him when opening the apartment door if he didn’t want to come in.
Biting his lip.
For the love of... Percival was MACUSA's Director of Magical Security, not a fucking ascetic! Obviously, he had interpreted that Newt was suggesting something else, because surely the Goldstein’s weren't home and the opportunity of being alone had appeared.
His brain, then, before he could control himself, had been triggered by various suggestive mental images of what he intended to do to this tempting brown-haired boy, when as he reached out to kiss that said brown-haired boy resoundingly, Queenie Goldstein had appeared at the door, and a bucket of cold water had fallen on Graves head.
With what face was he going to look at the blond in the morning?
Because the next day he was going to have to suffer when the woman saw him and remembered that the last time she had seen her boss, she had been able to clearly read from him that, had they not been present with her sister, in less than five minutes he would have had half naked his new friend as he fulfilled the fantasy of kissing the freckled neck of the tempting Brit conscientiously.
Would Seraphina accept that he would be absent for a year of work if assigned as justification that he had died of embarrassment?
Percival slid on the door until he fell to a sitting position on the floor of the entrance.
All, all the authority and respect that he had worked so hard to build up during his career was slowly going to hell.
However, moments later, he couldn't help but laugh almost hysterically.
Yeah, he wasn't going to act like a teenager he had promised himself, sure.
Newt had totally enchanted him and the most likely thing was that, before he even got to kiss that Brit, he was going to go through that kind of situations over and over again.
And it was better to accept it, right?
Considering that in the morning he had sent the young Scamander a very public declaration of intent in the form of a bouquet of flowers.
Of course, there was still the need to contact their families and the whole process that meant uniting the lives of two people, but he would have time to rack his brains with how he was going to get around having to talk to Theseus Scamander.
In the meantime, he had to make sure he survived the craziest courtship he could remember, and which, incredibly, featured him as one of the main characters.