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annuities · 2 years

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Schilderwald ; ten

the day is new, my blog is changed. i come into the new age with an update. *formerly jyaiin

pairing: theseus scamander x reader

notes: click here for the masterlist

“They’re meeting at the Mauleseom tomorrow night,” you report. “I heard something through one of my mother’s underground networks.”

Tina seems to pipe up in interest immediately — ah yes, the legend, fame and the lure of your mother runs far and wide. However, Graves, on the other hand, seems to share many of your worries.

“Two more days,” he murmurs, voice still a bit hoarse. “We have all of today and a quarter of tomorrow to find Credence and to establish a plan.”

Your group falls into silence for a few short moments before Newt proposes a plan. “Why don’t we look for the circus you found first? If we find him, then at least, we know how to start.”

That seemed like a reasonable enough suggestion.

“All injured personnel are required to stick together,” you snicker as the two of your limp out of the house.

“Or,” Graves refutes dryly. “I’m the only one who’ll be held responsible if you die. Theseus will kill me.”

You let him have it, let him have that sense that . That sense of responsibility — and last night. You thinking about what he said. I love you. You want to laugh — the corner of your mouth tugging up sharply in response.

Why now?

Why not before?

Why not at Christmas?

Why not before Leta?

No, but he was yours before Leta, wasn’t he? This is a problem you have, of never knowing what you want, of never wanting enough, never trying enough. You knew, before Leta. Before Christmas. If Theseus didn’t think you were special, he wouldn’t do those things for you. The flowers, the scarf, the arctic cold and the hours he spent (wasted) resources looking for you.

If you tried, if you even said something, Theseus would’ve said yes.

But you didn’t, because one night you looked in the mirror and you thought about your mother, her marriage. How much your parents loved each other and how in the end, that didn’t really mean anything, either. Love isn’t enough. And, you didn’t want that sort of life for yourself.

Always waiting, always wondering, if he’d come back. If someone else like Grindelwald, worse than Grindelwald would come and one day you’d look at the Manila envelope and know, word by word, what was written on it.

You don’t want that life. You wouldn’t choose to live it. Not for anything, not for anyone. You’re not your mother, you’re not Theseus, or his brother. You’re not willing to sacrifice those things.

“He loves you,” Graves says, looking away from you. You recognize that look.

You couldn’t accept it then.

And you can’t accept it now. It’s a soft thrumming in your chest, the chiming of wind bells that sound like war drums, a steady rushing in your blood—

“Shut up, Graves,” you say.

You can’t. Not even if you wanted to. This is the end of it.

It has to be.

Is it?

Of course not. You were prepared to die before he said that. You were prepared to fight to the death before he said that — and if you don’t give you all, there’s no way. No way you’ll be able to win.

Damn him for making you want to live.

You look at the gold and the red ribbons in the air, the fire and the wonders, the faces alight with awe and amusement. You wanted to be one of them, more than that, you wanted your mother, you wanted your father, wanted your Aurelia, you wanted your office in the Department of Records and Notation, you wanted your illegally obtained notes and files. You missed that house scarf, you missed your little apartment—

And you missed Theseus. You missed his hands, easily able to dwarf yours, you missed his suits — you missed how he looked, in his rumpled shirt and tie askew. You missed his silhouette and the roughness of his voice after disuse.

You sniffle, warmth pulling at your eyelids.

“Miss, are you lost?” A soft, hesitating asks you. But you freeze, because that gentle New Yorker lilt is bare, but still detectable.

Credence.

You freeze and hastily wipes your eyes as you offer him a shaky smile. What happened to taking things slow and regrouping?

“I, I’m fine,” you stutter, fingers still brushing at the straying droplets on your cheeks as you sniffle again.

Credence pauses in front of you, looking like a deer in headlights. “W-Would you like a glass of water?” His eyes dart and before you answer, he holds up a pair of scarred hands. “Please wait here, I’ll get you a glass of water.”

He’s off and back again in a single second. There’s a mildly-grimy glass in his hands and you accept it with a grateful nod.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling. Taking a sip and making sure not to wince at the taste.

��Y-You’re welcome,” he stutters and there’s something in his eyes— The light, the feeling of being wanted, being welcomed. You offer him a tiny smile as you feel something sticky on your palm. Looking down, you’re horrified to see they’re stained red—

“I’m so sorry!” Credence’s exclamation almost shocks you into spilling your glass, his cheeks are bright and there’s something like despair in his eyes as he tries to take the glass from you.

It’s then you see the fresh wounds that litter his hands.

“Your hands!” you say, as he retreats from you, instinctively. He looks again like a flower bending in the leaf-wiliting wind. Desperate to help, you lower your voice. “Please, let me help you back. Let me heal them.” You offer him a soothing smile as you hold out his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you,” you say. “I promise.”

Slowly, he inches closer, eyes on yours — scared, but trusting. Trusting. As he places his hands in yours.

Your medical spells aren’t good. But they’re just enough for you to heal the wounds — from whips — of the boy in front of you. He marvels at the spells, at your wound and the soundless spells as they began to close on his skin, and heal, and smooth over.

It’s then, that a bond truly forms between the two of you — and in the back of your mind, you know what he needs. Time, love, patience. To be happy, to be human. To feel human.

But Credence, no matter who he is (scared little boy, he didn’t choose this), no matter what he is (human, not a monster, a boy), he matters little against the lives of your parents, of your friends. Of Theseus.

He is the only thing that might be able to stop Grindelwald.

Tomorrow night.

You don’t have time.

He needs to be ready, no matter what.

“I know what happened, Credence. What they say.” You pitch your voice low, the way your mother used to. Credence is not surprised when you say his name. The thing children do best is waiting, you think. You, in front of the flume gate. Waiting, waiting, waiting. “But they’re wrong.”

Tick tock, the clock chimes, both future-past. Desperation makes people unrecognizable. Credence can’t see it in you, but you can. His eyes, molten and gold but also darker than the ocean floor. Wanting, hungry, so hungry. For so many things. And beneath it all, is a mass of writhing, rippling magic. Powerful enough to change the Wizarding World as you know it, to bend the matters of the world, to change reality.

“Are they—” His voice breaks. His eyes, you think, there’s nothing of a little boy in them. More beast than man. “Am I really...?”

You don’t tell him that there is a place for you, or that people are waiting for him and willing to love and protect him. Children know lies too well. Especially children like him, and you’re too tired to lie. So you tell him the thing closest to the truth. “You’re one of us. Nothing can change that. And no one, will ever be able to take it from you.”

You reach forward, for his hands. The link of his magic to yours, the roots of the world. And there, you think about all the choices you made and wonder how you ended up here, in the dark, the mud, even after all the things you gave up to leave.

“Magic is in your bones, Credence,” you say, and his eyes shine gold.

“Hey guys.” You open the door and smile like the piece of shit you are. “Look who I found.”

“Where the hell have you—”

Graves’ mouth opens and closes as Credence makes a noise of horrified surprise behind you. Ah, right. You’d forgotten about that. Oops. That’s another problem you need to solve.

You clap, mostly in self congratulation. Goldstein is not amused. Goldstein can go— Fill in the blank as required.

“Alright,” you say. “This is Credence. Don’t be creepy, or else.” You lead the boy into

He looks at you, his eyes manic. You smile. “It’s alright.” You’re not sure if you’re saying it for your sake or his.

You give Graves a sharp look, and he nods back, imperceptibly. Flamel told you, before you left that the International Wizarding Confederation was closing in on France. The timing for the Lestrange Mausoleum is confirmed.

This has to work. It must.

Credence introduces himself, awkwardly to Newt and the others, reintroduces himself to Tina before returning to your side like a loyal hen, shying away from Graves nearly pointedly.

Graves rolls his eyes. You snicker.

The truth is this: there is a very very bad wizard trying to kill many people. He may come after Credence to take advantage of him, therefore, everyone is trying very hard to hide him away.

Dumbledore, if he knows what’s good for him, will continue to be useless and unreachable at large. If not... You’ll do something drastic.

When the atmosphere is beginning to chill again, you assign good, Newt of a heart of gold to give Credence some talk-therapy and control training.

Graves, you, and Goldstein leave to another room.

You set the a silencing charm, and Graves is immediately on you like a rabid animal.

“I thought I knew the definition of recklessness. I was wrong. What were you thinking?” You’re normally a nice person, you swear—

“Ah yes, the man who’s spent sixteen months being absolutely useless is mad at me for doing something.”

He doesn’t flinch. It’s a near thing, though.

“That was uncalled for,” Goldstein says, on instinct.

You turn to face her. “And you, the person who kidnapped someone for their own completely insane vigilant mission. Neither of you, have any ground to be telling me off. I did everything I needed to do and everything that you asked for. I found Credence Barebone and now, we need to figure out how to stop him from killing everyone.”

Graves, nods, finally, looking constipated, even more so than usual. “Alright. While you were gone, we obtained a rough plan of the Mausoleum. Let’s start with deciding which of us will go and which of us will stay behind with the Obscurial boy.”

“Credence,” Tina corrects.

“Credence,” Graves repeats.

Four hours later, Graves has been sent off to bed like a particularly childish six-foot-two toddler. Tina is on patrol-cum-gossiping-complaining to Queenie. You open the door to Nicolas Flamel’s impressively protected laboratory to the sight of magic that no novice should be learning.

Credence’s eyes are glowing, and New Scamander—

You take a sharp breath. Every heartbeat feels like a open wound.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a gravely voice asks from behind you.

“It is,” you say as you watch the Patronus in the air, the silvery threads conjoining, a phoenix in flight, in fire, in ashes. It is. It’s so beautiful.

“Magic is a wondrous thing,” Flamel says. “Capable of doing almost anything.”

Anything. Almost.

Death, power, immortality. Nicolas Flame, the man who did the impossible.

The word dissolves into a blur of silvers and blues. Before you know it, you’re blinking back the tears. You hoped—

You hoped.

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly, tenderly, as your father once did, at the footsteps of the manor, his suitcase in hand after you refused to go with him. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

Death has never scared you. All of the people you love are some of the strongest wizards and witches there is in this world. They’ll be fine. And in the end, you’ll be fine, too.

Where do I go from here? You think. But there isn’t books or people to tell you, a multitude of ways for you to pursue this, not this time.

You know the answer, the way you know your own name. It hums in your blood. The magic that isn’t yours.

I love you, so many voices say.

Yeah, you think. Me too.

so, in case it was unclear, reader is still under the imperius by grindelwald. i always thought canon wrote it off a bit easily. though then again, harry potter is a very special boy. still, our reader is not so special and i am believer of the philosophy that things should have consequences, so therefore, we have more angst.

that said, there is no major character death in this fic, if you were worried.

i know this taglist is so so old, if any of you are no longer interested in being tagged, please let me know!

@maggiekelly51 @kinkyspellman @can-i-say-something-please @sanya-gryff @lotr-th-hp @gawabby @thatkidofwarandpeace@lindsay-got-lost-in-the-tardis@dinopowa @fem-oid @somepiesmothertrucker @replay-music @living-in-an-alternate-universe @azx-re @malamutelord @city-of-fae @miraculouslysupernaturalladybugs @ere-the-sun@notexactlythatgirl @elishamoon13 @rubylovesnewt @love-too-much-thoughts @brooklymw @livalovelylife @nxwtscxmander @mayakblack @jihyunsphotos @accio-roses @imaginovator @toastedside @mrkrychek @hennigcrossing @klmpun @bxckybxrnxs

#theseus x reader #theseus scamander x you #theseus scamander #romance #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #fantastic beasts #fantastic beats and where to find them #newt scamander #tina goldstein #Queenie Goldstein #jakob kowalski #leta lestrange #original percival graves

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lynn-reads-and-writes · 2 years

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Newt desperately wants to find a corner to hide in. He hasn’t felt this small in such a long time. How is he supposed to look Percival in the face? Esme? God, it feels like he can’t breathe.

“Newt? Is everything alright? Wendi said you might be upset.” Newt nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Percival’s voice. How long has he been standing alone in his office? He wipes hurriedly at his face before turning to grant Percival what he’s sure is an abysmal attempt at a smile.

“Yes,” he says, “Professor Dumbledore will be conducting his research from his hotel from now on. He’ll send a house-elf with his notes,” Newt says as he slips into what he’s coming to think of as their bed.

The look on Percival’s face is knowing, but he says nothing. Newt doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not.

“If you’re sure. I can try to be of more help if you need it. I can’t promise I’ll always understand what you’re talking about, but I can promise I’ll always give it my best,” Percival says softly.

It feels like the last straw.

Newt bursts into tears. Horrible gulping sobs that wrack his entire body and Percival–

---

Chapter 21 of the Path of Least Resistance is up!

#lynn writes #tpolr #the path of least resistance #gramander #fantastic beasts and where to find them #newt scamander #original percival graves #newt x percival

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emotionalshock · 4 years

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Pride

#gramander #fantastic beasts #fbawtft #newt scamander #newtown #newt #percival graves #original percival graves #tina goldstein #queenie goldstein #pride #lgbtq #fern #saturn #newt x percival #newt x graves #fanart #art #digital art

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multi-fandom-shitposting · 5 years

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If my excessive reading of the same tropes time-and-time-again doesn’t convince you, I don’t know what will. Write whatever you like, don’t worry that there’s ‘too many.’

#gramander #percival x newt #percival graves #original percival graves #newt scamander #recovery fics #fanfic tropes #fanfiction

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chocolatepyrusart · 5 years

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Lumos

So. I just finished reading @wanderingnork’s fanfic A Better Mirror!! SERIOUSLY RECOMMEND IT IF YOU LIKE FANTASTIC BEASTS OR PERCIVAL GRAVES!!!! IT’S AMAZING. I drew the Credence part when I started reading the fic, and then after rewatching the film recently, i remember that I never finished it! So i reread over a couple days and drew this!!!! ^ ^ I hope you like it @wanderingnork

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phantomstatistician · 5 years

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Fandom: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Sample Size: 10,241 stories

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funkzpiel · 6 years

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Chapter 15 is up!

#And The Tag Read Simply Pretty #gellert grindelwald x percival graves #percival graves #original percival graves #newt scamander #gramander #grindelgraves #theseus scamander #seraphina picquery #tina goldstein #Queenie Goldstein #gellert grindelwald

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letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse · 6 years

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He Was The Only One Who Noticed | Percival Graves

Title: He Was The Only One Who Noticed

Rating: Uhhh...Not as bad as the Reichbach Fall.

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of death and depression. Percival Graves. My writing. Mentions of the bleached pineapple.

Pairing: None? Maybe a brief whisper of Gramander...

Characters: Percy "Where You At 2K18" Graves and Newt Scamander.

Dedicated to: @princesslytherin1 @the-real-percival-graves Aaah, I offered to write this months ago! I'm sorry it wasn't completed sooner! I hope you like it!

All eyes were upon the dark-haired male, as he emerged at the top of the flight of stairs. Glancing around at the array of aurors, he suddenly felt very self-conscious in his formal outfit. His tie felt like a noose around his neck.

Being as handsome as he, the man had grown accustomed to envious and desirous stares but these quick and pitiful glances he received only reminded Percival Graves that, that part of his life was well and truly dead.

Grindelwald had murdered his reputation in cold blood and now, the broken director had to carefully put back together the shards of his broken life.

The male wasn't delusional, he had known the transition from director to prisoner to...whatever his role was now, would not be easy but now, now that he was actually attempting to move on from that horrific time in his life, he realised just how difficult the road to recovery was going to be and it made him question, was he strong enough to take that particular path? Ir should he have just accepted the retirement and pension plan?

Just as the doubt began to suffocate the exhausted man, he noticed someone pull away from the crowd, quickly and gracefully ascending the stairs, stopping only a few steps away from him.

"Welcome back, Mister Graves." he said with a grin playing upon his lips. The russet-haired male held out his hand, waiting now upon Percival to make the next move.

While locked away in that hellish place, Percival had oftened fantasised about who would be the one to uncover Grindelwald's facade.

He had hoped it would be Tina but after learning about her demotion under faux Graves's rule, the male now understood why she had not been at the helm of a search party during those tortorous months.

His second choice had been an auror from his own team but as he had been since informed upon his return to the land of the living, they had died with him on the night of his capture, which reminded Percival of the list of commiseration letters he had waiting in his office for him, all needing to be written.

Too many good lives lost, he concluded solemnly. All because of one selfish man. Two selfish men. One, the most obvious, Grindelwald. And two, him. Oh yes, he was equally to blame. If he had just waited for more intel and not rushed in to ambush Grindelwald blindly then maybe, just maybe, the whole mess could have been completely avoided and his team mates, still alive.

But never, never in Percival's wildest dreams would he have ever imagined it to have been a british wizard- a magizoologist at that- to be the one to save him from starvation and inevitably, death. No, no one had seen that one coming but boy, had the ex-director been grateful to the eccentric and often socially inept Newt Scamander.

When he had wanted to give up, his newly appointed friend had told him to at least live for those who had passed. Do it for them, even if you can't do it for yourself. You owe them that much, Newt had told him.

When he had been put to bed rest and his friends and colleagues unable to be at his bedside, Newt had enlisted the help of a particular demiguise, who took no time in acquiring sweets and other peculiar bits and bobs to help nurse the male back to health. Petcival had to admit, he did now have a penchant for Sherbet Lemons...

So as his saviour stood before him, arm outstretched, Percival Graves knew that in that moment, there was one man he was truly grateful to, he was in Newt's debt forever- even if the other man did not see it that way- and the dark-haired male didn't care one bit. To be indebt to such a good and honest man, was more of an honour than a burden.

Taking Newt's hand in him, Percival shook it warmly. A smile upon his own lips now. "It's good to be back."

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bittlebarnes · 6 years

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The Path of Least Resistance 3/?

Read on Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Summary: Is it so much to ask for your husband to love you? – After his expulsion from Hogwarts, Newt tries to regain his family’s favor by entering an arranged marriage.

“We're so glad you're alright,” Percival’s mother says. She clutches at his hand from her place across the dinner table. “I shudder to think what that man would’ve done to you had he gotten his way. If he’d had you any longer.” She shakes her head as she gestures for Wendi to refill her glass. “Will Newton be home soon? Your father and I want to thank him. Exposing one of the darkest wizards of our age? It’s all over the papers. He looks quite dashing in the photographs.”

Percival fights the urge to roll his eyes. His mother could really do the work of MACUSA’s entire public relations department if she put her mind to it. He makes a point to never let her meet Seraphina. “He's working late at the University. Something about dragons, I believe. Someone brought them an egg so he’s been preoccupied with that.” He responds instead. To avoid this dinner, he thinks to himself. Newt avoids Percival’s parents like the plague. They’d never really gotten on in all the time he and Percival had been married. Every time he and Percival’s mother were in the same room, she’d cluck her tongue and poke at his belly before lamenting their lack of children. As if Percival wasn’t equally responsible on that front.

“Ah. He’s with the creatures still?” His father asks, pulling Percival from his train of thought.

“Yes,” Percival pauses to chew, “he took quite a bit of time off so he could be at home with me but I think he’s happy to be able to go back to work. I’m getting around much better on my own these days.”

“Hm,” Percival tried to ignore the subtle downturn of his father’s lips, “we always thought he'd grow out of that. Become a proper Omega for you.”

“It's what he loves,” Percival’s tone was unintentionally sharp. “He'd probably be traveling the world looking for beasts if he didn't have to stay here with me.”

His father looks at him peculiarly.

“How are things between you two? Just a year ago you were considering ending things and moving onto someone who could provide you an heir. I would hate for this whole mess to cloud your judgment.” Claudius Graves is a stern man. He always had been. It’s what made him such a great Auror, Percival had always thought.

“It hasn't,” Percival says carefully, “Newt and I are just beginning to understand each other. I think I’m starting to realize that I haven't been the easiest person to live with. Newt’s always tried. I suppose I could try too.”

“He tell you that?”

“He wouldn't.” Percival sighs as he sets his silverware aside. He feels his father’s studious gaze but ignores it, “I’d rather not get divorced.”

“Of course not,” his mother sniffs, “but children-”

“Will come when Newt and I are ready.” If they ever decide to share a bed. Percival keeps that part to himself. “We have time.”

Claudius is shaking his head, disappointment radiating off of him in unavoidable waves. Percival keeps his eyes on his plate and hopes he’s right. He and Newt have reached an impasse. It will take time to undo the damage to their relationship but Percival’s never really tried before. If they want to have a family of their own, he’s gonna have to start.

“My cufflinks. I can't find them.” Percival tried to calm his frustrated nerves but the sudden disappearance of various items around his home was disconcerting, to say the least. He didn’t consider himself overly neat but certain objects had certain places in his home.

His interview was today. It was the final round of interviews to determine who would serve as the new Director of Magical Law Enforcement. Newt knew how much this meant to him.

“I know I left them in the same drawer I always leave them. This can’t be happening. Not today. Newt!” He barked. The boy, and yes he was still a boy, noticeably flinched. They hadn’t been married yet a year and some days, Percival wondered if he had made the right choice bringing Newt into his life. It seemed as if they were from two completely different worlds and he wondered if they could ever truly blend.

“I’m sure they’re around, Percival” Newt had said nervously and Percival’s eyes instantly snapped to him. Even though they hadn’t been married long, he’d already learned what guilt sounded like in Newt’s voice.

“And you wouldn’t, pray tell, know where they are would you, Newt?” He said, his voice icy.

“Well, no-ahem- but I might know how to find them?”

Newt wandered around the house, pulling open drawers and checking cabinets before he finally produced a wriggling bundle of brown fur.

“Is that a niffler?”

“Yes. He's from the university,” Newt laughed as he tickled the little menace. Percival’s cufflinks (a gift from his father from when he first became an Auror) clattered to the counter from the beast’s pouch. Newt gathered them up and pressed them into Percival’s outstretched palm. “There now. That wasn’t so bad.”

Percival was, for a lack of better words, shocked.

“If he's from the University, why is he here?” He demanded.

“He must have stowed away in my suitcase, silly fella.” He watched Newt scratch the thing under the chin like it’s some sort of pet.

“Is this going to be a recurring thing? Pests in my house?” Percival groaned. He wouldn’t have it. He can’t.

Newt’s face did something strange. There was a moment, a quick flicker, where Percival was sure Newt was going to cry before his expression went markedly blank.

“Of course not. It won't happen again, Percival. I know how important your home is to you. I’ll make sure to treat it with respect.” His voice was decidedly cold. He bundled the niffler into his arms and stood tall. “I’ll take him back to the University now. He won’t be here to bother you when you get back.”

Percival can't help thinking he's failed some sort of test.

There are no more creatures after that. Newt stays late at the university sometimes but never brings his work home. Never even talks about it.

Percival gets the promotion. A year into their marriage, he gets what he’s wanted all along. He’s the Director of Magical Law Enforcement.

Newt’s congratulatory smile is so fake, Percival’s surprised it doesn’t crack right off of his face.

“Dinner with your parents was nice?” Newt asks as he hangs his coat in the foyer.

“It was. You were missed.”

“Oh, I'm sure.” Newt openly scoffs. His hair is a birds nest, even more so than usual and his wand is tucked behind his ear and Percival resists the urge to lecture on safety precautions. He doesn’t think Newt would appreciate it.

“I'm sure the house isn't nearly as clean as your mother likes me to keep it. And I’m sure she’s sick of the tea. And the lack of pitter-pattering little feet.” Newt continues. Percival watches as he toes off his shoes and slides his feet into a pair of slippers like he knows Percival prefers. “I hope you didn’t wait up for me, Percival. I told you I was going to be late.”

“Yes, you always do,” Percival replies quietly. He leans against the wall opposite Newt and groans, “If I’m being completely honest, it’s mostly to avoid going to sleep.”

“You’re having nightmares still?” Newt’s green eyes spark with worry, “we can go back to the healer-”

“I don’t need a damn potion, Newt,” Percival says in a rush, his voice harsh. Newt shuts his mouth immediately, his cheeks flushing a violent red at the chastisement.

“Yes, of course. How silly of me,” he says flatly and Percival wants to shake himself. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to stop by the kitchen to make a pot of tea. I have papers to grade before bed.” He pushes past Percival and is gone.

Percival wants to slam his head into the wall. How did he fuck that up? Percival waits for a few beats, takes a deep breath, and heads to the kitchen.

Newt’s sitting at the kitchen table, pages moving freely in front of him while a spelled quill corrects any spelling or grammatical errors. He knows Newt re-reads the to check for content. Percival is hesitant to disturb him.

From what he’s heard, Newt is excellent in his field. He’d risen quickly at the University from intern to TA to Professor in his own right within three years. Percival hadn’t paid that much attention.

“Wasn’t it your mother who said it was impolite to lurk in doorways, Percival?” Newt doesn’t look up from his papers, just crosses out a sentence before moving down the page.

“She does say that.” Percival agrees and fully enters the kitchen.

“Is there something you need?”

“No. Well, maybe to apologize. Newt...I’m sorry for snapping at you. These past few weeks have been...difficult. Exceptionally so.” Percival feels his hands begin to shake and squeezes his fists tighter until his nails bite into his palm.

“It’s alright. I can’t pretend to know what you need. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Percival has almost always ignored Newt’s moments of frost. They’ve become more and more infrequent, probably due to their lack of nearness, but Percival hasn't had the chance to properly shove his foot in his mouth in a while.

He's making up for lost time apparently.

“I appreciate you taking time off from work to care for me. You didn't have to.”

Newts pen stops scratching away at that. He finally looks up at Percival and sighs.

“You are my husband, Percival. You went through an ordeal.” He pours himself another cup of tea. “You shouldn’t have to suffer needlessly."

Percival crosses his arms and hopes Newt won't see the evidence of his weakness. “Well,” he pivots, “regardless. I shouldn't have disrespected you.”

Newt actually looks surprised. “Oh. Well.” The quill goes back to scratching. “Thank you for saying that. I’m gonna finish up here and then head to bed.”

“I'll leave you to your work, then. Good night, Newt.”

“Good night, Percival.”

He hears Newt climb the stairs almost an hour later, hears the sink start to run as Newt readies himself for bed. They’ve never shared a bed, he and Newt. The closest they’ve gotten is sharing a bathroom whilst on their ‘honeymoon’. He’s seen Newt in his nightclothes before but never long enough to really take in the image.

For the first time in awhile, Percival finds himself pondering it.

It’s even more difficult to fall asleep after that.

Percival’s first day back at work is nothing but chaos. MACUSA is in absolute disarray. For someone who spent such little time there, Grindelwald managed to throw everyone off so kilter. There's a mountain of paperwork on Percival's desk that taunts him whenever he looks at it. He enlists Tina’s help. She’s one of his most competent Aurors and frankly, he could really use the assistance.

“It’s good to have you back where you belong sir,” Tina tells him. She’s sitting on one of the couches in his office looking as exhausted as he feels. “I'm sure your husband is glad to have you back as well.”

“He’s happy to be back at work, I think,” Percival deflects.

“He’s a professor, right?”

“Yes. He teaches Magizoology.”

“That must be interesting.” Percival’s eyebrow quirks at Tina’s tone. There’s something there but he can’t put his finger on it.

“I’m told it is. He enjoys it at least. That’s what matters.” He says trying to keep his tone neutral.

“If you don’t mind me speaking candidly, sir?”

“I welcome it.”

“A lot of us are...uh...surprised. You? Letting your Omega work?” That’s...not what Percival expected.

“Newt’s his own man. He wouldn’t appreciate being stifled. I promised him when we married that he’d be able to work.” Tina looks shocked at that. What kind of asshole does she think Percival is?

“Oh. That’s really nice of you.” Tina says earnestly.

Percival ignores the queasy feeling in his stomach.

Percival has to stretch legs. He’s been behind his desk for hours and his vision is starting to swim. He leaves his office with a goal of doing a lap around the building when a crop of red hair and blue coat scurrying past catch his eye.

“Newt?”

“Percival. I thought you’d be in the office all day!” Newt looks flustered at having been caught. “They said we wouldn’t pass your department.”

“You didn’t say you were coming.” Percival tried not to feel hurt.

“I'm here with students. One of our faculty suggested we visit MACUSA’s creature department so...here we are.” He looks nervous, keeps his eyes downcast. “And I know you’re busy. Your job is important. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Percival honestly didn't even know MACUSA had a creature department. Or maybe he did. He’s exhausted. It’s a surprising relief to see Newt. Percival’s not ready to see him leave.

“Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair.” Newt gives him an awkward wave and turns to leave.

“Actually, I was just about to break for lunch.” Percival blurts. He hears Tina begin to protest but silences her with a look. “If you have a moment or two.”

Newt looks just as surprised as Tina.

“My students are actually headed to the cafeteria. If you’d like to eat there.”

“Boss never eats in the cafeteria.” Tina laughs. “He wouldn’t be caught dead there.”

“Perhaps it’s time I see it, Goldstein. If you’ll excuse us.” Percival doesn’t extend his hand. He’s not sure Newt would take it but he does nod his head in the general direction of the cafeteria.

Newt offers him the smallest of smiles and Percival feels his chest clench.

When he sits across from Newt at one of the tiny tables in the cafeteria eating some of the shittiest food he’s ever tasted he’s surprised that for the first time in a while, his hands are still.

#lynn speaks #lynn writes #gramander #percival graves #newt scamander #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts #original percival graves #percival x newt #graves x newt

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