Chapter 4
It had been 2 very calm months since Newt had been invited to stay with Graves, and so far both men had kept very quiet around each other. The creatures, on the other hand, had been very... rambunctious around Percival. The apartment had gone from a bachelor pad to an urban stomping ground. Nothing was broken, just different.
Newt had not forgotten the day that he had stepped foot in New York for the second time, but the slight shimmer around Percival's face had faded to the back of his mind. The shimmer had seemingly disappeared, although Newt knew the logical explanation to this. Charms such as the ones that Director Graves uses last up to 24 hours depending on the strength and magical limitations of the spell caster. After the first day, Graves had enough time to calmly apply the charms necessary with ease and comfort, never leaving a trace. Newt wished that one day Graves would forget about his charms so that he could see what really lay on the face that he has begun to adore. Newt knew better. The application was as much a part of Graves' routine as going to work. Which reminded Newt of why he was sitting in that particular spot pondering those particular thoughts.
Today was a rather mundane day, as far as Newt was concerned. Any day that one had to be around humans more than creatures was a mundane day. But this one above all. No cases had come in, no spottings or rumors. Everyone in the office had no work to do considering they had done it all in anticipation of another case, and also no one wanted the Directors fury, even if it had lessened slightly since one Magizoologist had come back to New York.
Currently, three Aurors were betting on who could get the most impressive shot from throwing paper at a bin, two others were napping and the rest were chatting about inane gossip. In Director Graves' office, it was slightly less boring. At least Percival could watch Newt all he wanted because said man was explaining his newest research findings and how the department could use it for their raids. All around it was a mundane day, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"It's lunch break, would you like to accompany me on a walk?"
"Of course! Come on!" As usual, Newts energy at getting to move in a less restricted space was very entertaining and cute. Other Aurors began to pick up their things as the gruff American and the dorky Brit exited the Woolworth building, if the boss was taking a break then so could they.
The two walked along the streets of New York, the regular hustle and bustle of the city was calming. Many shops were full to the brim with customers looking for some meaningless object to add to their life, other shops were quieter, not so many customers but there was more of a homely feel about it. Throughout the observations that both men made, they were on the lookout for a good food stop. A break was dearly needed and a food vendor on a corner would end the moment too soon, it was too impersonal.
After another 20 minutes of walking the pair found themselves outside of the Irish pub that Percival had frequented before Newt had returned. The place called to them, but for separately similar things. Percival loved this place, he could just be another person with no laws to uphold, and he could also impress Newt with his knowledge of everything Irish, he seemed to enjoy it. Newt wanted to go in because it was comfortable, like a little slice of home, and also he knew that Percival knew some Irish music and maybe this would get him to showcase it a bit more. As if with only a thought shared between them through a glance, both agreed to go into the establishment without a word.
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The food was Irish in thought and design but American in taste and creation. Since it was still early in the day there was no alcohol, but the music still played. Percival and Newt shared some jokes and inane conversation starters, but it wasn't awkward. When Graves wasn't talking he was listening to Newt and hummed along to whatever was playing.
Nearer to the end of the meal Newt was feeling looser, even without the alcohol. It was as if the pub was a safe space where Percival would freely bless Newt with his humming and where Newt could stare more openly at the other without reproach. More jokes were shared and more laughing could be heard from their table, even after two months the two hadn't had this sort of bonding because of the immense amount of paperwork their respective jobs heaved upon them. The creatures were one thing, and Newt was something completely different.
A cliche moment in every person's life, this was Percivals. If he hadn't already been infatuated with Newt he would have fallen for him just in that moment. Even with the pre-existing emotions, Percival felt himself fall even deeper for the Magizoologist. It was a truly magical moment for the both of them.
There were no deep and meaningful topics, it was just a relaxed lunch. Percival wasn't thinking about his traumatic past and Newt didn't even think about his creatures. As all things do, the moment ended and they knew they had to get back to the office. The meal was paid for, the bill split equally. Walking back was silent, but not an awkward silence. More of a meaningful silence where talking wasn't necessary. It was comfortable. Nothing happened for the rest of the day, which was not unusual for that time of the year.
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A scream. A bloodcurdling scream. It ripped through the silence of the night. Created a piercing white noise right into one's head, waking them from what ever dreamland they had managed to enter. The darkness seemed torn after every scream as if a knife had cut through the night to pierce the eardrums of anyone in hearing distance.
The commotion caused several creatures to run about and find the source, quickly followed by Newt. The person from which the scream was issued was Percival Graves. It was not uncommon for him to yell out into the night because his mind had attacked itself with repressed memories of Grindelwald, the difference is that he usually had some sort of silencing charm surrounding him or his room at night so that his guests would not be forced to endure the same torture.
Newt pushed open the door to find the Director curled up in the corner of the bed, sheets wrapped around him and his muscles tensed and relaxed with every scream or whimper. Nancy was already there by his side, she had decided that she preferred Graves' room. Small licks were administered to whatever part of his face that she could reach but slowly backed away when Newt came near. Newt knew that he should wake Percival up, the only thing that could come from letting him sleep was a lost voice and possible strained muscles and/or damaged anything. The thrashing of the head was slightly disturbing.
With a careful hand, Newt slowly pulled Graves from the dream, dragging his palm and fingers through the soft hair and cupping his cheek. he could feel his magic ebbing away the frightful images that Graves' mind had produced in his unconscious state. Percival must trust him for the calming magic to work, especially since it worked so fast. Newt prided himself in being trusted so much by the Director who shows no vulnerabilities. Quickly pushing those thoughts aside Newt got back to what was important, getting Percival into a remedial sleep, but that would only work if he woke up first.
"Percival.... Percival wake up..." The hushed tones seemed loud in the night. Slowly, beautiful eyes shone in the darkness.
"Newt?" Newt nodded his head, a small smile adorned his face to convey that everything was alright. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"No, no no. Don't ever be sorry. I wasn't sleeping anyway. My thoughts for.... well you know me. Besides, Nancy was here before me."
Now that all the excitement had gone, Nancy was back to curling onto Percival's bed, nudging her head at his stomach for comfort. She really was adorable.
Newt had calmed down too, no longer worried. Which was the reason why it took Newt so long to actually look at the beautiful but haggard face in front of him. Graves' must have picked up that something was different in his face because it took a few seconds before the gruff man remembered why he always wore a concealing charm in front of everyone, especially this person. It was too late to cover up now, so Graves resigned himself to the watchful eyes and looked away.
This is what Newt observed: from the hairline on the right side of his face to the bottom of the middle of the brow, also right side, was a jagged scar, not a magical weapon, must have been caused by some muggle contraption. Reason: torture with unknown and harmful intent, possibly iron in nature so that the scar could not be healed or it had already by the time Graves was found, latter is the most plausible. On the left cheek was another scar, but smaller and less jagged, this one was more precise, not made out of anger or rage, used for intimidation purposes. Reason: torturer wanted to be imposing in order to create a vulnerable mindset, an example would be alpha and omega. The final scar was in the middle of the bottom lip, fainter with the fairer skin but harsher once past that. Reason: possible reasons could be anything, from an act of sexual hostility to one of a more lasting mental trauma where if a person were to moisten their own lips they would feel the scar and remember. There was slight discoloration around the left temple, this would be magical, but it was healed enough that Newt couldn't figure it out.
He had been staring too long, Graves' face was downcast, resigned. It pained the Brit to see such a poweful man be brought down by such simple battle scars.
A finger lightly nudged Percival's chin, a sign that Newt wanted him to look up and possibly talk. He couldn't deny this man anything, he looked up.
What he found there was not what he expected. A caring face that still that that smile on it, although slightly different. One he had seen many times before when he caught Newt watching his creatures from afar. Fondness.
Newt lightly shoved Nancy over so that he had room on the bed. He found a blanket and tossed it over all the occupants, it was much too late, or early depending on how you think, for something this heavy. They would talk in the morning.
Glancing to his side in confusion, Percival watched as Newt made himself comfortable in his bed. Well, finally he had joined him, just not in the way that he had imagined. It was much too late to ask any questions and risk this being cut short. They could talk in the morning.
With these last few thoughts in their heads, the two men drifted off to sleep. The remaining night was not interrupted by anything, all disturbances had ceased. Something about the place had shifted, but it was so slight that no living thing could detect it. Minds were filled with calming dreams, dreams that contained the deepest desires. The subconscious mind is funny. When in close proximity with specific objects or people, it relaxes its grip. With magic added to the equation, obviously, everything was just fine, exactly how it was supposed to be.
Well, maybe the Niffler cuddling spoons wasn't exactly right but as normal as you could expect from a household such as this.