Harsh Reality

When Newt had landed in New York City, it was to Tina’s radiant smile. He hadn’t given much thought to leaving people behind before. Usually, people were the ones who left him, casting him to the side or simply fading away from him at a very gradual distance. It was almost never he who left people behind.

At least, he thinks, I came back.

He knows Tina wants to hug him, and it’s a near thing to come true, but he notices her putting in great restraint and he’s just ever-so thankful for simply Tina.

That was another thing about people: they weren’t always the most understanding. They left because they often didn’t understand him, why he did what he did, or why it takes time for him to warm up to people much longer than they do for everyone else. Tina hadn’t questioned him. There had been the odd look every now and then, but her confusion had been replaced with what—he hoped—was fondness. In return, he made sure she knew that he was fond of her as well. It wasn’t the strangest relationship he’d had with another person. There had been Leta. And there was still Dumbledore which was always another can of worms to open. It didn’t refute the fact that Tina was still his friend after all this time.

“And what of your book?” she asks after all the necessary pleasantries. And that’s what makes Tina different from the rest: her attention to all the little details about him, about the world, that sets her apart from everyone else. She’d even remembered the reason for his return.

Even though he’d returned for many different reasons, her attention to his passion was unavoidable though, and Newt’s boundlessly grateful for all that is Tina.

He beams at her before scrambling for his suitcase. Absolutely smitten with the idea of showing off his success, even if in the middle of the dock, he presents his finished product to his most dearest and beloved friend.

“Oh Newt!” she exclaims. Her hands curl around the book as if it’s the most precious possession in the world, and Newt is simply besotted with the gesture. He’d also incredibly embarrassed, but Tina either doesn’t see or doesn’t want to fluster him further. She simply takes the book and gently opens it, flipping through the pages with all the wonder of a child in her eyes until she snaps it closed very suddenly, hugging the book to her chest.

But Newt isn’t so sure about her reaction. He carefully takes a glance up to his friend and startles at her glassy eyes, immediately jumping to the worst conclusions. But before he can voice his concerns, Tina brushes her hand against her face roughly and Newt realizes she’s rubbing away stray tears just as she stops.

Newt’s never been good, or even moderately adequate, at consoling someone, but for some reason he feels the urge to approach Tina, to provide her with something to hold onto, even though he has no rhyme or reason for what exactly he’d do, or even what he’d be consoling her about at all. It’s just…it’s the first time he’s ever seen Tina cry, and he can’t help but feel like he’s the reason for her unshed tears. After all, someone like Tina shouldn’t be crying.

But then she smiles at him, and Newt begins to doubt himself once more.

Still hugging his book—well, her book now, he supposes—and with eyes shining with an unreadable expression, Newt realizes she doesn’t look sad at all. In fact, she looks absolutely happy.

“Thank you, Newt,” she says. In a daze, it takes him a moment to finally understand what just happened, but in just a few seconds, he’s shyly smiling back at her, happy himself.

Tina’s always had that effect on him.

“You’re welcome,” he mutters back quietly, truly at a loss for words.

His friend continues to smile, her eyes taking his face in as if she’s savoring his reaction. With anyone else, it’d make him feel uncomfortable, but with Tina, it just feels like he’s being acknowledged, and that’s enough to make him feel comfortable.

They leave the shipyard soon after. Walking side-by-side again with Tina is as natural as if they’d just been in each other’s presence the day before. Tina asks him questions about his travels, about the different creatures he’d seen along the way, and Newt answers like he’s talking to a dear friend that he’d known for years. It certainly feels like years, he reasons to himself. Tina is as good of a friend as any of his creatures had ever been, and that spoke volumes to such a simple magizoologist.

He also asks how Tina’s been doing. She answers in Tina-like fashion, “Fine. I’ve mostly just been…well, mostly working.” Newt offers what he thinks is a sympathetic smile, but realistically, he wants to say something. For the trouble he caused throughout the city the last time he was here. Or for the responsibilities that must have befell Tina because of his clumsiness with his creatures. And for the amount of apologies he owes her for not writing to her throughout all the months he was away. Or even for dragging her around New York City, putting her in danger every step of the way.

And maybe it’s hypocritical of him, but he’s worried Tina had been working too much. The tiredness in her eyes was evident the moment he stepped off the boat. The slump in her shoulders indicated something more had been weighing on her mind. So yes, perhaps it’s hypocritical of him. He, who works every second of his life to be around his creatures, who travels for a living, thinking of nothing but his writing and his creatures’ care, could not reasonably tell Tina that she was working too much.

But Tina is one of the only friends he’s had in a very long time. He worries, and not for the first time, since he stepped off the boat, he considers asking if she’s really alright.

They make it to Jacob’s bakery before he can come to an answer. When Jacob stumbles through the back door after the bell chimes behind them and Newt sees both of their beaming smiles, he forgets about his question entirely in favor of seeing yet another fond friend.

One that doesn’t entirely remember who exactly he is, but a friend nonetheless.

“Tina! ‘S always a pleasure to see you,” Jacob says jovially. His eyes are still as kind as ever, much to Newt’s own happiness. He’s even more glad when Jacob’s own eyes fall on him. The slight recognition on his face is enough to have Newt hopeful that Jacob will remember him. But a single second ticks by before Jacob turns to Tina with an expectant look.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Tina spares Newt an apologetic look, one that he can only mirror as she tells Jacob who he is.

“Huh,” is all he says. Considerate, and Newt really shouldn’t get his hopes up about it, but he can’t help the assured smile he gives the shorter man.

He let his expectations get the best of him.

“‘Scamander’ sounds a lot like ‘salamander.’ Is that supposed to be purposeful with newts?”

Of all the years Newt had been asked the same question, he’d never been as stumped as he is now. It had always been asked of him while he was in school. It’d been a question behind every pair of eyes that had witnessed his introduction. But it had never been a question of Jacob, and maybe it was because their first meeting was so unordinary and out of the blue that there had never been a pause for Jacob to consider it. Either way, it still came as a shock to Newt that Jacob would ask such a question, and so innocently as that. The reply he’d always given to others springs up and out of him like he’s on autopilot. “Not that I’m aware. ‘Newt’ is short for ‘Newton’ though…”

“Oh! That’s uh…that’s actually quite neat,” Jacob says. The awkward manner in which he said it should make Newt feel uncomfortable, never being one for continuing conversations at all, but instead, almost irrationally, Jacob’s response makes him feel like nothing’s changed about the other man. He’s grateful, happy, even, to know that Jacob is still…well, Jacob.

“Newt wanted to get a taste of New York’s best pastries,” Tina says, cutting through the silence. “So I brought him along. I was wondering if you could show him around?”

It’s Tina’s confidence in Jacob that has the man grinning bashfully. Almost shyly, even. Tina throws Newt the only sly smile he’s ever seen on the woman and follows behind the two as Jacob goes through his array of dream-inspired creature treats. It’s both amusing and fascinating to see how much memory Jacob retained of Newt’s creatures. It’s amazing to see how detailed they are, how Jacob’s artistry came to light in his baking skills.

(To himself, he admits quietly that the niffler bread loafs look the most appetizing of the bunch, and if it were really his niffler getting a pad of butter on his belly, he’d be tickled to death. The mental image is enough to bring a smile to his face.)

“I’d love to take home one of your niff—I mean, one of the bread loafs. Please,” he tacks on quickly, hoping his answer didn’t come out too strange for the other man.

Jacob looks overjoyed. He practically scrambles to throw—rather gently, despite rushing his movements—a loaf into a paper bag. Newt takes it and reaches for his worn leather wallet to pay Jacob when the other man waves his hand at him.

“On the house,” he says. “Any friend of Tina and Queenie’s is a friend of mine.”

Not knowing what else to do, Newt puts his wallet back into his pocket and takes the bag from Jacob with a thankful smile. It only hurts a little that Jacob doesn’t consider him a friend after everything they’ve been through, but if Jacob remembers Tina and Queenie a little, then Newt will continue to be hopeful that Jacob will come around for him. It’s the least he could do after all he’d dragged Jacob through in the past year.

“Jacob, Queenie and I were wondering if you’d join us and Newt for dinner sometime this week.” 

“Of course! Should I bring anything?” Jacob asks, looking between Tina and Newt with an expression Newt can’t read. Tina, however, reacts in an unexpected way.

“Oh no, Jacob! Of course not. We—no, absolutely not.” Tina flails her arms in a much concerning way, but instead of the anxious expression on Newt’s face, Jacob is smiling slyly. Newt begins to feel like he’s the only one not understanding what’s going on when Tina looks at him with a visibly strained expression. She’s obviously flustered, but before Newt can ask what they’re talking about, Jacob bursts into laughter.

“Alright, alright. I didn’t mean anything by it, Tina.”

Didn’t mean anything by what? is on the tip of Newt’s tongue when he’s suddenly being dragged by the elbow by a discomposed Tina.

Stuttering, Newt looks back to Jacob who still has a grin on his face. “It was nice meeting you!”

“You as well, Mr. Scamander!”

“We’ll see you later this week,” Tina also throws back. The bell of the door jingles behind them and they’re out in broad daylight once more. Newt has more questions than answers after visiting Jacob’s shop though.

“What was that about?” is his smart inquiry. But Tina doesn’t answer him. She doesn’t even really look at him as she hauls him away from the shop and into the busy street. Her cheeks are still dusted pink, and Newt is none the wiser of it all. He doesn’t question her again and lets her lead him to their next stop. He isn’t exactly sure where they’re going, but Tina seems to have become mute to him. Newt’s no stranger to silence either, so they keep walking until they reach an alleyway.

Finally, she speaks to him. “Ready?” she asks, holding out her arm. Newt immediately understands, nodding while he wraps his fingers around her elbow. Dragging him to yet another location (through apparition this time, though he’s not exactly sure it’s any better), he only gets a second of reprieve before he realizes where they are.

A pitiful look is what he gives Tina. She only smiles cruelly.

MACUSA. She had apparated them right in front of her headquarters, and without a shred of warning either.

“We need to get you a wand permit, Mr. Scamander,” is all she says in explanation.

Now it’s Newt who decides not to say anything. Though, he probably seems more like a kicked puppy than anything else. Tina huffs in amusement and takes him in.

At least this time he isn’t in trouble. Yet.

—

When Newt finally wrangles himself away from MACUSA, he lets out a sigh.

It wasn’t that Newt was particularly adamant about avoiding MACUSA. He was just…a little less than enthused to be in the same place twice after he’d almost been executed there once. Not to mention the stares he’d received when he walked through the building. Most of them were probably for Tina, though. She’d done well to get promoted after all the hard work she’d done when Newt got tangled up in catastrophe all those months ago. She was clearly revered as someone of great reliability now, and Newt didn’t blame anyone in the MACUSA’s headquarters for thinking so. Tina had always been someone he could rely on. It was just in her nature. He’s sure she’s no different in her profession, but he only hopes that she continues to be recognized for all that she has to offer.

Nonetheless, it’s still exhausting to also be revered as one of the most troublesome wizards of their time. He has no doubt word has circulated throughout New York about his own standalone profession and all the messes that seem to follow him alone with it. It’s a wonder he’d gotten out of the building relatively unscathed. Though, the questions regarding if he’d let anything out of his case were certainly jarring, and even more so unwarranted. Of course nothing dangerous would escape! And it’s not like he let them out. Creatures had minds of their own, and sometimes they wanted to be particularly mischievous and escape. He couldn’t control whether they wanted a breath of fresh air or not. Well, not for lack of trying. But no one seemed to believe him when he answered as such. He’d replaced the latch and everything too!

It says a lot about their perspective on him if they’re still wary after so long, that even after he’d presented himself in a clear way, they still doubted him all this time. It made him wary of them as well knowing they didn’t have an inkling of trust in his field of expertise.

He feels bad about leaving Tina to continue her work, but he’s not the slightest bit apologetic about escaping the jaws of the sharks that ran rampant within MACUSA. Knowing that Tina’s working, however, means that Newt can do what needs to be done for his own line of work as well.

After all, there was a new companion in his case that needed some well-earned rehabilitation.

Hopping from one country to another and finally meeting some of the creatures he’d only heard the faintest rumors about finally gave him the adequate perspective he needed to complete his book. Going from the most well-heard about creatures to the lesser known ones had certainly been a challenge, but it had been relieving to finally meet and study them all.

Of course, running into hunters and traffickers hadn’t been as relieving, but getting the creatures out of harm’s way and relocating them to where they belonged had been worth the trouble.

When he went to India though, he picked up more than just a few notes on some miscellaneous creatures. It wasn’t just trafficking wizards that gave him trouble either; a creature with more than bite, but with a walk of fire enough to incinerate him, he’d truly met his match while in India. Because dragons—dragons were one thing. They breathed fire when they were angry, irritated, or protecting something. Dragons were known. Everyone knew how to get a dragon to breathe fire if they really wanted one to, but almost nothing was known about muscaliets.

In all his travels, Newt had only ever heard of rumors following after the tiny creature. Not much is known about them or their habits. No one was sure if the rumors of their fire were even real to begin with. That is, until Newt found one in India.

Smugglers and poachers alike had been working together to traffic various creatures to different countries. Newt had been tracking down the one creature he’d only ever heard faint whispers of in his travels when he’d found one in the wrong hands at the wrong time.

It had all been a blur, really. It hadn’t been the first time he’d engaged in a fight against other wizards who were illegally smuggling creatures, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. It had happened in a shipyard—the traffickers had just been about to make off with crates and cages filled with creatures that Newt had come across throughout his travels. It broke his heart to see that so many of them had fallen into the wrong hands. Mistreated, misunderstood, caged . Admittedly, he’d been rather angry by it all. If a few curses were muttered that were more painful than incapacitating…well, no one else had to know but him. What mattered in the moment was freeing the creatures who looked much worse for wear than their captors.

When he’d unlocked their cages, most of them had fled immediately. He remembers their escape vividly: griffins that had taken flight, a centaur that had run off as far as one could manage before disappearing into the night, and several pixies scrambling for safety. He remembered it all. Their fear had been palpable when the fight had broken out, and they never seemed to settle even after Newt had immobilized their captors. But even after they all had escaped the confines of their prisons, there had been one creature that remained at the back of its cage, hissing and confused, afraid to wander out of the familiar cage after being held for so long.

Newt knew that some creatures were more hesitant than others. It was in their nature to be cautious, especially of humans. But this one had only ever known the trees of India, of the smoldering heat of its own body and the comfort of bark under its feet. Instead, it had had to endure the frigid cold and cruel hands of unfamiliar environments. 

Environments and conditions that it could barely survive in.

The night had been dark save for the moonlight. The only other source of light that had entered the darkness since Newt’s presence had been the spells that flew between him and the others during their fight. When he approached the creature’s cage, sensing its hostility and fright, its brightness had grown far enough to light up the shipyard.

Muscaliets were known for walking with fire. Their small paws left steam in their wake, burnin bridges and bark and anything that dared threaten them. Newt had gazed upon the cryptic creature with stars practically jumping from his eyes. Not only was the muscaliet bright with terror, but it had been ready to fight and defend itself even in its weak state.

Newt had always had a thing for strays. It was apart of his job to rehabilitate and provide for creatures that had seen more than their fair share of the cruel world that never even tried to understand them. It was his job to look after them, to learn more about them and educate his fellow wizards about them all so that they might one day live in better conditions. It had mostly been his passion and curiosity that led him to make connections with all sorts of creatures, even ones that didn’t necessarily like humankind, and ones that humans often considered dangerous. Unfit to be around. Harmful.

But Newt had always known that even though it was in everyone’s nature to fear what they didn’t understand, it was also in a creature’s nature to fear what it didn’t understand either.

The metal under the muscaliet’s paws had melted some of the metal at the bottom of the cage. Despite how much Newt should have worried about the danger of it all, he couldn’t help but find the tiny imprints of the muscaliet’s paws in the metal…endearing, to say the least. And maybe that was why Newt really did what he did at the end of the day, taking in creatures and building homes for them. When people saw something like a wild muscaliet before their eyes, they only saw danger. They’d probably shiver in fear and run, or maybe even do something unforgivable. But when Newt saw it quivering in the cage, frightened of him, he could only see another animal in need of help; in need of a chance to get away from the dangers of the world; to be cared for and respected like any other creature in the world.

Newt had pulled along his suitcase and opened it up for the creature, still in the corner of its cage, beady eyes only on him and whatever his next move would be, but Newt had only waited.

He’d been too worried at the time to call out to the poor thing, afraid he’d only scare it more. They waited for only minutes, but it felt like hours. And then, just when Newt had begun to think the creature would never move, it took a step forward, and the rest was history.

Newt had learned a great deal about the muscaliet since it had entered his case, the first thing being that it was actually a her , and though she was quite… flammable, she was also incredibly friendly with other creatures. She always scurried away into her tree’s hollow when Newt came into her line of sight though, but as soon as he waved a bright flower in her direction, she’d peer out. Cautious, but curious yet, she’d scurry up to him as quick as lightning just to snatch the flower in her tiny paws before she hurried back away. Every time, it never failed to bring a smile to Newt’s face. 

Flowers were the second thing he’d learned about muscaliets. All the flowers in the vicinity of her tree hollow and habitat were wiped out within a week’s time. It took him only a moment’s confusion to figure out that it had been her who’d been eating them. He’d mistakenly thought that she would be like a squirrel who scavenged for nuts and seeds. He hadn’t expected her to take all the blooms off of the bowtruckles’ tree.

(They’d put up a great riot when he ventured over to see what all the ruckus was about.)

It was right before he’d decided to go back to New York to give Tina his book that he realized the muscaliet wasn’t eating all of the flowers. She saved most of them, but only ate the poisonous ones.

Her tree hollow had become a nest of flowers by the time Newt finally built up enough nerve to peek in. What he saw inside had confirmed why the suitcase always smelt like something was burning. At first, he’d assumed that the burning smell was just her; her paws still caused the bark of the tree to rot and steam whenever she toed her way outside of the hollow. It was just how her power worked, and why so little was known of her kind. Nervous of people, leaving fires in her wake, it was no wonder why so little research was found on muscaliets. They rotted their homes with a warmth so deep in their nature that it left nothing behind, leaving them to move onto the next home.

She’d kept many of the flowers as her nest. They rotted beneath her whenever she decided to sleep (and one time Newt had the most unexpected privilege to catch her purring on a bed of softly smoking flowers, fast asleep and encased with delightful warmth) and she only ate one type of flower Newt had planted on a whim around the pond where he kept a few aquatic creatures.

She only ever ate the oleanders, but Newt had only planted so much around the pond. Within a month, she’d eaten the area dry.

Now he had a theory that he needed to test out, but if his suspicions were correct, then muscaliets were indeed a most fascinating and wonderful creature to witness. Whether in the wild or in a suitcase, Newt may have just discovered something that might be able to make his case that creatures were nothing to be feared if left to their own devices, no matter how dangerous they seemed on the surface.

While he hadn’t planned on venturing to the states with any other intention than to give Tina his book, he now had an opportunity he couldn’t afford to let pass by.

But first, he needs to find oleanders.

—

The next day, he comes up empty on the oleanders, but he’s nothing if not resilient and resourceful. He plans to go the next morning around the city at local florist shops, but something…unexpected happens.

Tina and Queenie have allowed him to stay in their spare room, which is actually a huge understatement. They practically dragged him to their apartment.

It’s nice. Being in their company, that is. Newt isn’t very good at reading people, more accustomed to observing a creature’s behavior than picking up on sarcasm or light joking, but he’d always had the impression that Tina and Queenie were thicker than thieves. It’s no small thing to be a legilimens and have to live with it, but having a family, only having one person in your family…Newt imagines that Queenie must have had to confide in Tina for a very, very long time. And Tina—well, Tina is almost as timid as Newt. He knows that much, at least. They’re genuine sisters, and they’d let Newt into their little world once again, even if only to sleep in the guest room and keep them company and humor his explanations about his creatures.

So yes, the little moments like those were nice. It’s almost like Newt had another family in another country. One that he could rely on to not make judgements about him…

But when there are good sides, there’s always downsides.

Tina comes home late at night before the next morning comes, sullen and downcast. Newt and Queenie watch her take off her coat, and then her hat, and then her shoes, never once looking at them even as she pads off to her room adjacent to Queenie’s. When the door closes, Newt looks to Queenie, but Queenie’s looking down at her hands, eyes wide and something unreadable overcast in her expression.

She stands just as a question filters on the tip of Newt’s tongue. She walks, and Newt makes to get up when she looks back at him.

A lot of bittersweet smiles had been thrown Newt’s way before, but nothing as melancholic as the one Queenie spares him in that moment.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Newt. Let me talk to Teenie for a little bit.”

She leaves him behind with more questions than answers, quietly stepping into Tina’s room and gently closing the door behind her.

Newt waits. In the silence that follows, he can’t help but stand. And when minutes begin to seem like ages, he begins to pace, unable to help himself. Every now and then, he thinks he hears a murmur seep through the crack under Tina’s door, but Newt had never been one for eavesdropping. Sometimes, it seemed like nothing was said at all, and the silence was more deafening in the apartment than it's ever been before.

He can’t help but draw up conclusions. Tina often worked late, but she’d come home much later than usual today. She seemed a little more frazzled after getting off work these days, as if she was just out of reach of something, but she’d always come home with a smile on her face. There might have been tiredness at the edges of her eyes, but Newt had come to learn that Tina loved her job. She would probably sleep at MACUSA if Queenie allowed it. So he doesn’t think it’d have something to do with her workload, but he just doesn’t know.

It’s one of the first times he’s ever felt left in the dark. He’d thought he’d be over it by how many blind missions Dumbledore sends him on, but he supposes not. At least, not now. Never with his friends.

An hour must have passed by when they finally emerge from the room. At some point, Newt had sat down again, but upon their arrival, he shoots up from his seat.

Queenie throws him a weak smile. She steps to the side and reveals Tina, who looks worse for wear, and Newt’s speechless. Never before has he seen Tina look so…distraught. So deeply weighed down by something.

He steps forward, hand twitching at his side with an action he can’t seem to commit to.

In the end, Queenie shakes her head.

They don’t talk about whatever it is Tina had found out that night. Dinner is quiet for once, but not for a lack of trying on Queenie’s part.

Newt doesn’t bring it up.

—

Days pass by. Queenie talks his ear off, and even though having her in his thoughts all the time still leaves him feeling invaded, it’d become a sort of…comfort in its own right. Queenie, for all her knowledge of him, his past, and his present, never said anything that made him feel uncomfortable. She’s respectful as always.

And she doesn’t tell Tina about the muscaliet, and really, that’s all he can really ask for from her.

He goes with Queenie every morning to see Jacob. The man doesn’t remember much of him besides a vague sense of familiarity he can’t quite place, but Newt doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to have a friend in Jacob once again.

Tina goes to work, Queenie and Jacob fall into a happiness Newt has only seen in the hallways of Hogwarts, and Newt…Newt searches for oleanders across New York.

Of course, he doesn’t tell Tina about the muscaliet, least of all his search for oleanders. And if she suspects anything of his prolonged stay, she doesn’t voice it. So Newt spends his time afoot in New York, trying to find wizards, florists, even the odd few who deal in shady means to figure out where he can get oleanders from. The flower was found everywhere around the world seemingly, yet everywhere Newt turned, no one seemed to have any, or any clue as to where he could find some.

He’d assumed the states, especially a city like New York, would have oleanders in abundance. It may have been a city scant of flowers, especially around this time of the year when everything was cold, but oleanders were well-known for surviving cooler temperatures. They were pretty and decorative. Surely people would want to have such a vibrant flower growing along their windowsills?

Newt had been poorly mistaken.

The few florists he’d managed to track down told him all the same.

“Sorry, sir, we don’t get orders for oleanders often. Most people who want ‘em have cats or dogs, and oleanders make ‘em sick.”

“Up here? No, you’ll never see oleanders this far up north! You’ll have better luck finding them in Florida or California where the weather gets more humid.”

And the most popular comment he’d received, along with a few strange looks: “Now why in the world would you want oleanders?”

Newt really had his work cut out for him this time around.

In the end, all anyone could do was point him in a new direction. From one florist to another, to another wizard who knew someone who might know another person who could acquire oleanders, Newt had eventually reached a dead end.

And really, it seems quite ridiculous the more he thinks about it. Going to such great lengths as if he was on some grand adventure just to find oleanders, bloomed or not, mere seeds or propagated little things, shouldn’t be so hard to begin with. It’s not like he’s looking for orchids or cherry blossom trees—he just wants some poisonous flowers to feed to his not-squirrel.

The only lead he’d been able to scrounge up in all his time searching and investigating every poor soul in New York is a gardening shop just on the outskirts of the city. After visiting every other person he could think of, he highly doubts a gardening shop will have what he needs. Even though he’s already set on finding a way to travel out of New York to look elsewhere, preferably sometime when Tina wouldn’t ask questions about his whereabouts, he decides to go the next day to at least inquire about it. Any information the shop owner might have on the best possible places to go would be better than nothing.

He arrives early to the shop, just a little after it opens. The man greets him with a nod and asks what he’s looking for when he walks up to the counter.

“This might be a strange question, but you wouldn’t happen to have any oleanders in supply, would you?” Newt asks. The shop owner raises his eyebrow, whether at the question or at his accent, Newt doesn’t know, but the man answers his question all the same.

“I reckon we don’t,” he says. Newt nods, none too surprised by the information, but stills when the man continues. “Are you interested in seeds or in ones that are already grown?”

“Ah, either or would be fine,” he answers, shuffling his feet. His legs knock into his suitcase and he has to maneuver it awkwardly out of the way, but the shopkeeper either doesn’t notice his fidgeting or doesn’t care.

“We don’t have any in the store since they’re not in season, but I have a friend who makes regular deliveries throughout the month to deliver supplies. I can have him bring in oleanders on the truck if you’re in town long enough to wait for ‘em.”

“That would be great, actually. How long until they can come in?”

“The next truck should be in—”

Ding!

The shop owner immediately turns to greet the newcomer, but Newt—

—Newt whips his head around, never having felt a magic quite like this before. And just as he catches the other’s eyes, he freezes.

Because there, in the doorway, is the familiar picture of Director Percival Graves right before his eyes. And his magic is… perturbed.

He has no other way to put it in his mind. He knows, just by looking at the crow’s feet at the other’s eyes, the paleness in his face and his slightly slouched posture, that this is in fact the real Percival Graves. Not an imitation, not an imposter, not Grindelwald. But even if he’d never caught the other’s face, he’d know.

Grindelwald’s magic had been quiet and unassuming, but powerful. Powerful enough to fill the role of someone as esteemed as the Director of MACUSA. But now, as Newt gets a feel for the real Percival Graves’s magic, he knows Grindelwald had never been able to fit the shoes quite right.

The man before him has a disturbingly hard line to his body, as if he’d been shaped from a cookie cutter to fill the rest of his presence in. His eyes are clear and knowing, but knowing of what, Newt would never be able to put his finger on. It’s so different from how his magic feels that Newt almost doesn’t believe that it belongs to the person standing in front of him. Because in all of Newt’s life, dealing with developing wizards’ magic from school to magic that ran rampant among creatures and poachers alike, he’d never felt magic quite like this man’s.

He can’t seem to look away from his face, even when the Director takes another step forward into the shop. It’s only when those eyes—dark as night and so terribly tired that they can’t be anything other than nocturnal—meet his own that he looks away.

Newt has had his fair share of intimidation scares. People have always tried to heighten themselves to look down on him, puffing their chests out and lowering their voices, making themselves louder when others are around to an explosive level of sound. He’d long since stopped letting others’ useless attempts at insecurity get to him. However, the man behind him is far more intimidating than any other person Newt has ever met.

Probably even scarier than Tina Goldstein.

The shop owner speaks and Newt’s shoulders jump against his will.

“Got everything weeded out?”

Newt waits for the familiar voice that’s grown to haunt his memories surrounding Grindelwald and one Credence Barebone, but it never comes.

He isn’t quite sure if he’s disappointed by it or not.

Whatever Percival Graves does behind him, it’s enough for the shopkeeper to nod once and move on.

“Gimme a minute and I’ll help you out then.” The shopkeeper turns back to him.

“As I was saying,” he grumbles gently, before clearing his throat and speaking louder, “I can have ‘em ordered in by the end of the week, but I’m afraid since they’re not local to here, it might cost extra.”

Newt’s shaking his head before he can even articulate his own thoughts. “No, no, that’s quite alright,” he placates. “I can pay in full right now, actually.”

The other man’s eyes widen, but he nods nonetheless. Newt pays quickly, not sparing a glance at whatever change is left in his wallet. He’ll think about it later.

What he can’t seem to keep out of his mind, evidently, is the fellow wizard behind him. He’s deeply aware he’s in no trouble, but he feels every single pinprick against his back with the gaze of the other. He doesn’t need magic to know that Percival Graves is looking at him. It makes him nervous, has him bouncing his leg impatiently against the wood to keep his brain steady and sure, to keep him from running straight out the door and past the other wizard. 

The shopkeeper drops leftover Muggle change in his hand and he drops the coins precariously in his pocket. He whips his eyes over to the doorway at the sound of creaking floorboards just in time to see the other wizard stepping away from the door. The man stares straight at the shopkeeper, face blank of any recognition and Newt feels his ears light aflame with embarrassment.

Could he be anything more than a dolt?

He makes a beeline for the door, ready to avoid yet another strange interaction in his long, arduous time on Earth when he catches one last sentence from the shopkeeper.

“You mentioned planting flowers last time in your garden. Have you thought about putting in a tree?”

Newt struggles not to trip over the doorframe as he pushes the door open, because—

Flowers? Trees?

He had absolutely no earthly idea why Percival Graves had gone into that shop that morning, but then again, Newt had also gone to that same shop to buy oleanders of all things. Perhaps it was better to not question the other man.

It doesn’t stop him from thinking about the other man as he walks back to Tina’s apartment, thoughts long gone of his success with the muscaliet’s oleanders.

—

Tina doesn’t tell him why dinner is so special the next night. Queenie keeps looking at him, giggling as she fluffs the pillows around the sitting room. He feels as if he’s the only one not in on an elaborate joke—or as if he’s the one who’s the butt of the joke to begin with.

He assumes Jacob is joining them, just as he’d done the past few nights, but ten till the start of dinner and Tina leaves with a quick, “I’ll be right back,” before she’s out the door and gone from sight. He doesn’t even get to ask Queenie what it’s about because she appears right before him, smiling ear to ear and a mischievous glimmer in her eyes that’s always scared Newt quite frankly.

“Newt, dear, can you set up the table for four?” she asks. She bats her eyelashes in that way Newt has come to learn means she wants something from him, and he nods, walking to the cabinet where he knows the plates are when he realizes what she’s asked of him.

“Four, Queenie?” he asks. Just to make sure.

Queenie takes one look at his face, giggling as she does so. Newt thinks about the time several days ago when he’d asked what she was laughing at when she looked at him.

“Oh Newt,” she’d said. “Dear, you just look like a kicked puppy.”

He’s since learned that he can use it to his advantage, but it doesn’t seem to be working now by the way Queenie turns around to start preparing the food for the table.

He sighs, folding his sleeves up to begin taking the plates down when he notices something just out of the corner of his eye. He leans his head back just in time to catch sight of a familiar tuft of fur—

—just as plates begin flying from the top shelf and out into the air.

One day, he promises to himself, I will put a leash on that niffler, comfort be damned.

“Immobulus!” he cries out towards each plate. They all stop mid-air just before touching the floor, then gently clatter to the hardwood and rattling the ground beneath his feet.

Queenie, who Newt is pretty sure has never uttered a profanity in her life, curses litanies of them from her position next to the stove.

Just when he believes his niffler has run out of objects to throw to the ground, he watches in astonishment as the creature seats himself on one last platter, belly against glass plate. Then, with enough strength of a tiny, magical creature, he kicks off the wall and away from the kitchen; into the seating room, just as the door opens and Tina’s voice flitters in.

Newt jumps to catch the plate just in time—but not before he realizes who his niffler almost crashed into.

Eyes brown as dark wood bark meet his over the plane of the plate (and the niffler’s nervous panting, belly rising, declining, terrified at finally being caught).

“Mr. Graves,” he breathes. His own chest expands and contracts with every breathless amount of air he manages to take in. Percival Graves is as still as the dead, but his eyes are wide too.

They’re so close that Newt can swear he hears the other man’s breaths, but perhaps they’re just his own.

To his horror, just as he hears Queenie begin shouting at them, the niffler slips from the plate. Percival Graves, who Newt is slightly scared of, slightly amazed by, who has probably never seen a niffler in his entire life, lifts his hands as quick as lightning to capture the creature in gentle, careful hands.

Queenie gasps when she finally takes in the sight.

“Mr. Graves!” she exclaims. Newt can practically sense her surprise at the niffler in the man’s hands. It also happens to be the exact moment she realizes Newt is there as well. “Newt! Don’t just stand there, and don’t drop my plate!”

He gulps, unsure if he should be more terrified of Queenie’s wrath or the man in front of him.