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Magical Encounters

Chapter Text

It was a late night, just a bit past one. The streets were silent, aside from a few stragglers making their way home briskly after a night out drinking and other things of the like. The air was especially cold, breaths of hot air visible in the chill. Many would be hurrying home at this point, eager to wrap themselves in warm covers near the fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa. But of course, Percival Graves was not many.

His walk was slow with long strides ─ almost leisurely if you squinted hard enough ─ as he made his way home to his apartment. An aura of authority practically illuminated him, and though his pace said otherwise, his expression was that of a man on a mission. Perhaps that was simply his default expression though. Nevertheless, it proved to be useful as the few walking past him sidestepped hurriedly, as though touching him would send a bolt of lightning through them. Yes indeed, Graves very much enjoyed this peaceful walk home. And then his peace was broken. 

“Stop! You fuggin’ cheat! You, you─hic─you cheat!” A man’s drunken voice shouted from across the street.

Graves did not slow his stride as he turned his head towards the disturbance, an eyebrow raised. He spotted a disheveled man, clearly drunk out of his mind, wobbling out of a nearby bar with the help of a young, dark-haired man, who appeared to be perhaps the bartender. A ways from them was yet another man, sprinting down the sidewalk like his life depended on it, the square shape of a wallet clearly visible in one hand.

“Bastard!” A hiccup. “I’ll get you! I’m fast!” The man then proceeded to keel over.

The bartender merely patted the patron on the back as soothingly as possible. His face, however, seemed rather amused at the whole ordeal.

“I’m sure you’ll catch him.”

“Damn straight I will!”

“Of course, of course.”

“Just you watch, I’ll---” And more puking.

But that was when the Auror slowed to a stop. If it were anyone else, they would have either been watching the drunken man emptying his stomach or the thief nearing the street corner - not the bartender’s subtle hand gesture.

The thief suddenly tripped unceremoniously, cursing loudly as he did so, but scrambled to his feet and took off out of sight. It would have gone unnoticed under the cover of darkness, but Graves saw it clearly, the wallet, quite literally, flying across the sidewalk, straight into the bartender’s hand. Within a mere second, the wallet was out of sight, deftly placed inside the patron’s back pocket as if it had never left in the first place. If the man wasn’t busy puking, he surely would have noticed. Or not. 

On cue, an old cab pulled up beside the pair, and it was more than likely that this was a common occurrence. 

“Right on time, your cabs here mister,” the bartender chimed, a smile still plastered on his youthful face.

A groan came from him as he sniffed and crudely wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The bartender ushered him into the cab and handed the driver a few bills, before happily shutting the door. As the cab took off, the man waved a lazy good bye before passing out in his seat. And then there were two. 

They made eye contact. The bartender stared at the Auror, smile dimming slightly though still present; a look of confusion. Tilting his head to one side innocently, the young man turned and headed back into the bar. Graves frowned at this, but to his luck, it seemed that all of the patrons had left after the commotion.

The sounds of chimes echoed in the empty room as the door shut behind him. The bartender had his back turned to him as he organized his glasses on the shelf.

“Sorry, mister. Bar’s closing up now.” He turned to face him now, hands on his hips - though his expression was nothing but friendly.

He was actually a she . Pale with short, jet black hair combed to one side, and eyes just as dark. An Asian woman, with soft yet boyish features. She was very easy to mistake as a man, her voice barely gave it away; low and raspy enough to sound like a young man, but high enough to sound feminine.

“I can see that.” Graves answered, authority practically oozing from him. “However, I have some questions I need answered. Surely, you’ll have time for just a few?” His tone left no room for questions.

The woman blinked at him, a single brow raised. They were both sizing each other up, but for different reasons entirely. “Well alright, shoot.”

The Auror stood directly in front of the bar now, the bartender nearly in arms length in case things went awry. He didn’t see any place on her clothing that would allow her to hide a wand, and surely, she wasn’t that much of a fool to leave it within the bar with no-majs around - especially drunken ones. She watched him dutifully.

“Now I have to ask, and do answer sincerely,” the older man began. With a simple wave of his hand, all of the curtains came down to shield from any prying eyes. She visibly tensed. “What in the world do you think you’re doing working in a no-maj bar?”

It was silent. A very awkward and uncomfortable silent. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth, before closing it. His gaze didn’t falter as he stared her down with such smoldering seriousness, it would have made any grown man wet themselves. She clicked her tongue, realizing how bad this particular situation was.

“Well, I don’t know what a no-maj is, but you’re...” she trailed off for a moment in thought. "You’re a special somethin’ huh?”

And then she smiled at him sheepishly before vanishing into thin air. He followed not a moment later.

It took a mere 5 minutes for Graves to capture the fleeing witch. Of course, you would expect nothing less from the Director of Magical Security. So there they were, atop a building, the bartender looking anything but pleased with her predicament, cursing under her breath for being caught so easily. The older man had his hands in his pockets looking quite unamused, though he rarely ever seemed amused.

He merely watched her for a moment, trying to figure out who this woman was. Certainly no dark witch, he would have recognized her if she was. She was, simply put, nobody. But a nobody who was breaking the law by interacting with no-majs without a care in the world, and that was dangerous.

And by her body language, he could tell she was irritated - not afraid mind you. Almost like a child being caught red-handed for stealing a cookie. 

“Who are you?” He finally asked. Her lips pulled into a thin line, unsure of whether or not she should respond.


“Percival Graves.” That earned him a funny look.

“What kind of name is that?”

He easily sidestepped her question. “Do you know why I am arresting you?”

The woman stared at him incredulously, her voice not betraying her confusion, “Arresting me─what are you a cop?” She scrunched her nose as she processed the information. “Like a magic cop or something?”

The Auror furrowed his brow at her response. Surely, she wasn’t this ignorant.

“Do you know what MACUSA is?”

“Uh...should I?”

Chapter Text

Plain old creepy. That’s what Morgan thought of the Second Salemers. A very creepy and unusual cult group. As a child, it frightened her to be caught using magic because of these people, and it was one of the main reasons she never tried looking for magic. She didn’t even know if there was a community somewhere with people like her, and she didn’t care to find out. So long as she wasn’t caught, it wouldn’t matter right? Being sneaky was one of her specialties. 

Mary Lou was really something else. Morgan recalled that their first meeting involved the Salemer telling her, “Be watchful of your Eastern neighbors good sir. Magic of the Orient is quiet and mysterious.” In hindsight, Morgan was impressed that she didn’t laugh out right. She simply nodded and walked off awkwardly as one of her children timidly handed her a flyer. The tall, strange one - Credence.

In all honesty, she never cared much for the Barebones, but she had no reason to mistreat them - the children at least. Even if they gave her the creeps. Even so, she pitied them ─ Credence in particular. Just one look at the boy told her everything she needed to know. He didn't have the benefit of using magic to escape his circumstances as she did. The world had a tendency to be cruel. 

The sisters were especially odd, and Morgan took great care to avoid their paths. Credence was much more preferable company; though he never really contributed much to conversations in hindsight. He was a terribly shy boy with nonexistent self-esteem. She would have bought him a drink if she thought he could handle it, but it was never a good idea to let the broken ones drink their heart out. He never seemed to want charity either, so the witch settled with sliding coins into his pocket when he wasn’t paying attention. You don’t need magic for that when you have hands as deft as hers.

Needless to say, she had emptied her pockets many many times, giving him coin literally anytime she happened to pass by - enough coin for him and his sisters to spend daily. So what did you spend your money on today Morgan?  Oh you know just sad pitiful children, the usual. Which is how she found herself being, awkwardly, confronted by the tall Barebone.

To say she was surprised was an understatement. But she couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across her face as he timidly approached, downcast gaze as usual, hands pressed firmly to his sides. 

“Well if it isn’t my good ol’ pal!” she chimed cheerily, noting that he seemed to perk up a bit at that.

“G-good afternoon miss,” he responded, as usual.


“M-Miss Morgan.” That was typically as close as she could ever get to having him say her name, but it would have to do.

The woman stared at him a moment, wondering what he had to say. The silence was very much expected, so she simply waited, not wanting to accidentally cut him off if he really did have something to say. After all, he came to her. The taller boy turned his gaze towards her for a moment, then immediately back down when he saw her staring.

So they both stood there in silence as people brushed by quickly.

“Hmm...” she hummed, patiently stroking her chin like a wise old man. 

Credence flinched, thinking he had upset her and apologized quickly without thinking. Morgan made a face, but he missed it as he twiddled his fingers.



“Do you like cookies?”

“Um...I haven’t had them before.”

A dramatic gasp.

“Well we should fix that now shouldn’t we!”

And that was how the two ended up on a park bench with a bag of goodies. Credence stared down into his bag like it was an endless abyss of secrets, while Morgan watched him, eager to see his reaction to trying some sweets. Who didn’t like chocolate?

“I-I don’t think I should,” the boy murmured, as if he was doing something sinful.

“I will literally feed you if you don’t.” A lighthearted threat, but she really would and she didn’t care how many people were watching. He didn't doubt her.

Credence shifted awkwardly in his seat, wondering how he got into this predicament in the first place. This is what he get’s for trying to initiate conversation.

“I um...actually have something to say...” He trailed off as his momentary confidence vanished into thin air. He tensed as she leaned back against the seat, giving him that same expectant look as she did earlier.

“Well then, let’s hear it.”


“Let’s hear it.”

He fiddled with his bag nervously, hoping that she actually didn’t want to listen because he was far too nervous to speak his mind.

“Can you─” He forgot what he wanted to say. “I─you─uh─” Panic was evident in his eyes. He wanted to curl up into a ball and shrivel away into nothingness.

“Hey now, breath,” Morgan comforted gently, placing a hand delicately on his shoulder, afraid he would rush off in his panicked state. He looked like such a sad puppy in moments like these and she didn’t like it at all.

The Barebone shivered at the touch, but inhaled deeply and exhaled as instructed. The small warmth relaxed him. He calmed down enough to recollect his thoughts.

“Feel better?” He nods. Morgan gave him another pat before removing her hand.

Credence turned his head slightly in her direction, but looked everywhere that wasn't her face. 

“Why are you so nice?” To me, he wanted to add, but he thought it made him sound narcissistic; but that was the real question. She hummed for a moment, her face content in thought, though she shook her head in response.

“I don’t think I’m particularly nice,” she responded with a shrug.

His brows furrowed immediately, not believing her one bit. By her laidback body language, however, she seemed to believe it was true. It didn’t seem to bother her.

“You are nice,” Credence reiterated, seeming almost offended that she didn’t think so. 

Morgan observed him a moment, wondering what the boy could possibly be thinking.

“Well, I mean I happen to be nice to you at least.” It was the truth. It wasn’t like Manhattan was the friendliest place on earth. Common courtesy didn’t seem to exist where she lived.


She scrunched her nose, not really liking to get all touchy-feely on a subject.

“I don’t have a reason to not be nice to you,” she stated simply. It was true after all. “Just think you got the rough end of the stick ya' know?"

He looked away in thought, as if he couldn’t believe her words. It almost seemed second nature to merely accept it as fact that he was meant to live a miserable existence. He didn't even know how to feel or react to her kind words.

“Can I see your hands?” She suddenly asked, uncharacteristically grim.

Instinctively, his hands clenched into fists. She placed her own gently atop his, slowly opening them to see how bad the wounds were. She frowned.

“Close your eyes.” She spoke softly, as if to a child, and he shut his eyes immediately, body tensing as he felt a strange but soothing sensation tickling his palms. And the feeling was gone as he felt her stand from the bench. He opened his eyes and stared at her as she turned to leave.

“I’ve gotta leave now, but I’ll see ya' around alright?” She gave him a friendly pat again and strolled off towards the busy street.

Credence continued to watch her until he couldn’t see her anymore. He then looked at his hands to see his wounds healed over, leaving the lightest of scars. He took a shaky breath, unsure of what to do until he realized he still had a bag on his lap. He reached in and pulled out a chocolate chip cookie before taking a small squirrel-like bite from it.

It was good.

Chapter Text

“Sometimes I have to wonder if there’s more to life ya know?”

Jacob sighed, his shoulder's slumping as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. The bartender considered this for a moment, before answering calmly as ever, “You know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“Life is what you make it.”

“Wiser words have never been said.”

Glasses clinked together.

Jacob enjoyed the bartender’s company - Morgan. He was a friendly guy with this type of attractive aura around him. Everyone in the bar seemed to like him as well, and the ladies seemed particularly taken to him, though he never seemed to pay it any mind. He was a young, good looking fella, and his features probably helped to make him more desirable to the younger, curious women sitting around him, eyeing him like vultures. He was a weird sort of handsome-pretty. If that made any sense. He actually didn't know many Asian people, so he didn't want to assume that they were all just born good looking. Jacob knew he wasn’t the most attractive specimen on earth, but he had his own charms too - even if he couldn’t see it himself.

The man stared into his cup, swirling his drink round and round in thought. Then he looked up and stared at the bartender absentmindedly, utterly lost in thought. He probably was getting a bit tipsy. Morgan stared back with a small smile, curious to know what was on the man’s mind.

“Hey Morgan, mind if I ask you something?” Jacob asked, his lips pursed.

“Not at all.”

He placed his glass down onto the table resolutely, both hands now resting on his lap as he leaned forward with pure curiosity in his dark eyes.

“Do you use female products?” A series of coughing and snorts came from some nearby patrons.

The bartender couldn’t control his widening grin as he did his best to contain his laughter. His trembling voice gave him away though.

“Why, yes I do! Did you need a recommendation?” A rather shocked gasp came from an eavesdropping woman.

Jacob immediately shook his head, but was quite satisfied with the answer as he rubbed his chin, now nodding slowly.

“No, no - at least I don’t think I do. But it explains a lot.”

“Oh, do tell!” Morgan pushed, a stupid giggle nearly escaping his lips. Nosy patrons leaned in a bit to hear the conversation better.

“Well,” Jacob began, arms now crossed, looking somewhat serious, “In the last hour, I couldn’t help but think - how is this guy’s skin so nice and shiny-looking? It all makes sense now!”

The bartender was pressed against the bar, leaning on his arms as he managed to mirror the other man’s serious look in sudden attentiveness.

“Ah yes, that does make sense. It takes quite a lot of time and patience to have skin this radiant,” he gloated, eyes sparkling. He was practically beaming at the compliment.

“Well it definitely shows that’s for sure,” the stout man added with an affirmative nod, “It makes you kinda...I don’t know the word...kinda dazzling ya know?”

Morgan began to refill Jacob’s emptied glass with a look of appreciation.

“With all these compliments, I’d suspect you’d want to ask me to dinner next?” He teased with an amused smirk.

Jacob lifted the glass and took a small sip before a thoughtful look came to his face.

“Actually, if you’re free this Sunday─” He was cut off by the woman who had been eavesdropping.

“Enough of this ridiculous talk ─ Morgan dear, would you care to refill my glass?” She batted her eyelashes towards him, though it was obvious she was uncomfortable.

“Of course miss.”

Jacob stared at the bartender for a moment, then the woman, then back to the bartender. He was in deep thought again. Or he was starting to feel his drink affecting him. He then began to wonder what could possibly be in female skin products to make their skin look so amazing. And the better question was, why didn’t the male skin products produce such results? These were the important questions to be thinking about at 12 in the morning.

“Oh and Mister Kowalski?” The bartender began.

Jacob raised both brows in his dazed state, not expecting to be pulled out of his deep deep ponderment. “Call me Jacob.” Morgan grinned.

“I am actually free this Sunday.”

The woman choked on her drink.

Chapter Text

Morgan sat awkwardly at her desk, eyeballing her coworkers as they eyed her back. She was a fish straight out of water and it was safe to say, she’s never felt so uncomfortable in her life. What she wouldn’t give to be back at the bar, serving all of the crazy drunken no-majs , instead of reading over these wand permit applications - surrounded by these people. The witch internally groaned, hoping to finish her work quickly so she could get out of there.

“Hey honey, would you like some coffee? It might help you relax,” offered a gentle voice from her left.

“I don’t─” Morgan’s reply fell short as she turned to face one of the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on. She was ashamed to admit she was gawking like a guppy, staring at the woman’s face wide eyed in both awe and shock. To be fair, she wasn’t expecting to run into a goddess at work.

The strawberry-blond was holding a tray of coffee, a charming smile spread across her perfect, red lips.

“Why thank you! That’s awfully sweet!”

The dark haired witch blinked, brows furrowing in confusion. Had she spoken out loud? Well that would’ve been incredibly embarrassing.

“Oh, no you didn’t honey. I’m a legilimen!” The woman noted the confused blink. “I can read your mind.”

Well, that had to be ten times worse. Morgan was sweating, dozens of thoughts rushing through her head. She must’ve sounded like an absolute creep

“Not at all! Most women tend to think some awfully mean things. No one’s ever called me a goddess before though! You’re a real charmer aren’t you?”

Jesus christ.

Morgan wasn't an easily flustered individual, but these were very unique and unusual circumstances that called for extreme embarrassment. And embarrassed she was indeed. 

“I─uh─could you not read my mind?” The dark haired woman fumbled awkwardly, as she rubbed the back of her neck. She wasn’t sure if that was a rude thing to ask or not because magical etiquette on all that jazz.

The woman looked down guiltily, “I’m sorry, I can’t help it sometimes.”

She then perked up as if having an epiphany. “Oh, I’ll make it up to you with some hot cocoa! You like marshmallows, isn’t that right?”

Before Morgan could answer, the woman sped off, the cups of coffee not spilling even a single drop. The former blinked and sighed deeply as she leaned back in her chair in exasperation. Part of her was glad that the blonde had left so she could recollect her cool and calm demeanor. The other side of her wished she was still there so she could redeem her lost pride. At least she was getting some cocoa.

Chapter Text

“Hey Credence?”


“How about we ditch those flyers and have some fun?”

The taller boy looked as if had just been given an ultimatum, a panicked expression spreading across his pale face. He began to shake his head slowly as his imagination got the better of him. His mother would find it, she always did one way or another. The mere thought of abandoning his station sent shivers down his spine. But one way or another, Morgan always found away to convince him to join her.

“I don’t think...that’s a good idea,” he began and began to think of excuses to make. She never liked when he used his mother as an excuse─even if it was really the only excuse he had.

The woman dismissed his worry with a nonchalant wave of the hand, already knowing what lame excuses he had.

“Come on, just a bit?”

Credence shook his head again, though this time a tad more reluctantly. The woman lifted a hand, her thumb and pointer finger almost pinched together, an inkling of space between them.

“Just a tiiiiiiiny bit?”

The pale boy glanced around nervously, knowing he would lose resolve if he looked into the shorter woman’s eyes; but he always did. Suddenly the wall seemed very interesting to him. As he bore his gaze into it, the woman slowly slid into his line of sight, almost comedically, before staring him dead in the eye. He blinked and looked down so quickly that he could have snapped his neck.

“J-Just a bit then.”

“Knew I could count on you!”

The words were short and sweet, but it made the Barebone feel all warm and fuzzy inside; like he was actually being useful. She always said things like that to him, encouraging and kind words. It was such an unusual thing for him to hear, and he prayed that she meant every single word because boy did he need it. Just the other day, she had cheerily exclaimed, “That’s my boy!” after he’d successfully walked into a bakery to buy cookies all on his own. He was a nervous wreck afterwards though, but hearing those words nearly brought him to happy tears, like he’d done something right; even if it was for such a simple task. He wouldn’t mind being her boy at all. But God forbid he openly admit that.

“Shall we?” Morgan moved to his side, arm outstretched.

Credence nodded as he slowly and awkwardly linked arms with the shorter woman. He was as stiff as a board, elbow locked, worried that he was making his companion uncomfortable if his arm was touching too much. He didn’t seem to realize the purpose of linking arms. Morgan almost snorted at this. She shook her arm a bit to loosen him up.

“You good? I swear, your arm is at a perfect 90 degree angle.”


“I’m kidding. We’re just walking, relax.”

And so they did. It only took 20 seconds for the Barebone to realize how awkward it was to walk with his arm all stiff like that. He must have been jabbing her with his elbow, he knew it, she just wasn’t saying it, what if she had a bruise now, oh no─

Credence glanced down at the woman, worried about what she must have thought of him. Her face betrayed nothing, however, and her cheery expression threw him off completely. He almost felt a blush come to his face. Or was that just the cold air?

They walked around aimlessly for almost 10 minutes, Morgan telling random stories of things she’d heard while working and random gossip. Credence rarely spoke during their walks, but he enjoyed listening as well as just having friendly company. Not to mention having the warmth of another against him. The Barebone was having a very good day.

The duo had found themselves walking by a frozen pond, children gleefully skating around with all the energy in the world. The two made their way across a bridge as a couple passed by going the opposite way, the man’s shoulder brushing rather forcefully against Credence’s. The stranger muttered something under his breath and continued on without apologizing. As usual, the Barebone turned a blind eye and continued on as if nothing had happened, not wanting to ruin the good vibes. Morgan on the other hand had stopped her chatter and was looking back at the man with an unreadable look.

“Y-You’re not going to do something are you?”

The woman turned her gaze to Credence and just gave him an innocent smile. He almost missed her free hand making a small gesture. The  boy felt a small gust of wind pass him quickly, before a yelp sounded behind him. He didn’t bother to turn around.

“Anyone that’s got a problem with my boy has a problem with me.”

Credence caught Morgan’s eye. She had a big grin on her face and he couldn’t help but smile back.

Chapter Text

“Jacob?” Exclaimed a very confused Morgan as she opened her door to come face to face with her old friend. Behind him were two familiar faces, the Goldsteins, and one strangely dressed fellow. Well, she certainly wasn’t expecting company this late, or at all for that matter. The last person to visit her was Percival, and that was last week. Or was it last month? Her memory had been loopy for quite some time so she wasn’t sure. She was honestly surprised that she even remembered Jacob and the Goldsteins at this point. The witch just wanted to sleep off her drowsiness; in fact her hair was such a mess that she probably just woke up.

“Morgan!” The stout man responded with an awkward laugh as he ushered himself inside, quickly followed in by his companions who all gave her an apologetic look. “I uh─we are uh,” he wasn’t particularly sure what to say. They needed a place to lay low and who else could he trust than his old pal Morgan? Of course, they haven’t spoken in a while since she had gotten that new job, but no big deal. Luckily, Queenie was there to save him.

“Go on ahead, I’ve got her.”

The strawberry-blond shut the door as everyone clamored over to the living room, making themselves comfortable on the couches. Morgan just stood there with an utterly oblivious expression, blinking slowly as if she wasn’t sure she was just imagining everything that was occurring. She was pulled from her cloud of thought as she felt a gentle hand on her arm, carefully leading her to the others before sitting her down. Morgan felt incredibly out of place. Not to mention she was still in her pajamas.

Everyone present was silent, giving each other awkward glances when the dark-hared woman said nothing. The older Goldstein gave her sister a look, signaling her to explain the situation.

“Well um, I think introductions are in order!” the blond exclaimed cheerfully with a clap of her hands. “You already know Jacob of course and this is─”

“Wait, you gals know each other?” Jacob asked with very obvious surprise.

“Oh yes, we work together!” Queenie replied with a smile. Jacob made a funny face as his brows scrunched together processing this new information.

“You’re a witch too?!” He rubbed a weary hand across his face. “Well I certainly didn’t see that coming. Wait, no, that actually explains a lot.”

Tina made a face at Morgan, “You never mentioned a Mister Kowalski in your documents.” She received a bored blink and a lazy shrug in return. The Goldstein gave her a stern look, lips pulled into a thin line.

The younger Goldstein simply waved a dismissive hand as she felt the other’s concentration waver. “Anyhow, this is Mister Newt Scamander! Newt, this is Morgan Hajin and she’s usually much friendlier so don’t mind her.”

At being mentioned, the freckled man perked up in surprise, pulled out of his own thoughts. Awkwardly, he held out a hand to Morgan and managed to keep eye contact. She grabbed his sluggishly and they shook.

“Pleasure to meet you Miss.”

“Yeah.” Morgan wanted to say more, but she felt too out of breath to add any extra words. 

His brow furrowed for a moment before he looked away again, pondering deeply.

“Really gotta thank ya Morgan. We just gotta hide out here for a few hours if that’s fine with you?” Jacob stated with gratitude and a smile. The woman simply nodded. She wanted to say much, much more and ask many questions, but she simply didn’t have the energy to do so. What an inopportune time to be sick! Luckily, they had a Queenie present.

“Jacob, could you explain the situation to her? Tina and I will go make us some drinks. We’ll be just a moment.”

The two women walked off to the kitchen, leaving this trio to their thoughts. Jacob excitedly began telling Morgan about the insanely magical day he was having and all the things he never knew existed. He was still surprised that she had magic all this time, but considering everyone kept yelling to have him obliviated, that was probably why she never mentioned it. There were many circumstances where unusual things would occur, but the man never put two and two together until now. As he spoke, Morgan simply listened, though she looked like she would fall asleep if he kept it up.

Newt on the other hand was observing the witch carefully; seeing as she wasn’t paying attention to him in the least. Physically, she didn’t look very ill - mostly tired. Her drowsiness didn’t seem to come from a lack of sleep however. It was as if something was inflicting her body with constant surges of sleep deprivation. Not to mention that the woman was barely able to keep her concentration on Jacob’s words, only nodding her head at random intervals. The wizard thought it would be rude to pry, but whatever sickness she held didn’t seem natural in the least.

“Sorry to interrupt Jacob,” he grabbed the attention of the two and continued on, “Ah, Miss Hajin was it? Could I ask what you’ve been sick with?”

“Uhhh...” The woman bobbed her head to one side in thought, “I don’t remember.” It was hard to tell whether or not she was really trying to answer, or if she was just that out of it.

The ginger rubbed his chin for a moment. “Would it be alright if I took a look at the medication you’re taking?”

The witch simply shrugged her approval, and before she was able to get up from her seat, Queenie was already there with a small bottle in hand. Must be nice to hear everything. With a smile, she handed the medicine to Newt and continued back to the kitchen to make sure the water had boiled.

“S’for sleeping,” Morgan stated with a yawn as she lazily watched Newt examine the contents. Inside were standard looking pills, though the bottle itself did not state what the pills were meant for - which was quite odd. Jacob leaned in curiously, unsure of what his companion was looking for.

“Look like normal pills to me.”

“Not likely,” the wizard responds with furrowed brows as he pulls out his wand. He pushed the tip into the pill, causing it to instantly crumble to a fine powder. Setting his wand to the side, he rubbed a bit of the white powder onto his finger and gave it a taste test. His brows noticeably furrowed and he gave the witch a serious expression.

“This has been mixed with a Confusing Draught - where in the world did you get this?”

“Confusing Draught? What’s that?” Jacob asked curiously, with a look of mild worry.

“Like its name, this concoction can cause confusion and sometimes even sickness, depending on its potency.” Wiping the dust from his hands, the wizard began to examine the witch as if she were a patient. “I assume you’ve been taking these pills regularly yes?”

“Uh huh.”

“That would explain why the effects are so severe. I may have just the thing.” Newt knelt over his suitcase, briskly opening it before stepping into it and vanishing. If Morgan was in a stable mind set, she would’ve been blown away. Instead she looked at Jacob, her eyes practically speaking her thoughts, Did that just happen?  Jacob just shrugged, but gave the woman a friendly pat on the knee.

Queenie and Tina made their way back to the couches, handing the duo cups of cocoa before taking their seats.

“Who would want to drug you? It doesn't make any sense...” Tina began in ponderment as she picked up the bottle in curiosity.

“Oh you poor thing! Don’t worry, you’ll feel better in no time!” The blond reassured kindly, rubbing the woman’s back with her free hand. Morgan simply nodded, taking awkward little sips from her mug.

A few minutes passed as the Goldsteins and Jacob chatted about their next plan of action. Morgan simply listened absentmindedly, as she chewed on a marshmallow. The suitcase finally popped open as Newt climbed out with a small flask filled with a clear concoction. Hobbling over to Morgan, he gave the woman an awkward yet reassuring smile.

“May I?” He asked politely as he prepared to remove the cork from the flask. Morgan nodded and he poured the entire liquid into her cocoa. “It will taste a bit odd, but you should feel no discomfort.” The woman nodded again before downing the entire drink in one go.

The four stared at her expectantly, waiting for any changes. The witch blinked slowly before closing her eyes. It felt as if her mind had just cleared from a fog, slowly but surely. She definitely felt less tired, but now felt mostly fatigue as a side effect. There was a lingering taste on her tongue that made her grimace. 

“Ugh...that's strong ,” she groans, but nods her thanks towards the wizard. He smiled at his success and nodded his acknowledgment.

“You feeling alright honey?” Queenie asked sweetly, taking the mug from the woman’s hands.

“Yeah, a lot better,” And she hadn’t realized she’d said the second part aloud, “Shitty pills...” This earned her an eye roll from the older Goldstein.

“Oh yeah, she’s alright,” snorted Jacob.

Again, the group repeated their story, seeing as Jacob’s first explanation hadn’t stuck at all. Morgan seemed thrilled about the entire thing, occasionally asking about Newt’s suitcase and creatures - and he was none too eager to describe them. The Goldsteins didn’t think it would be the best idea to show her his creatures just yet as she hadn’t fully recovered. Morgan was missing out on a lot of fun during her months off. She was surprised that she’d never heard about some dark mist monster destroying the city. Or perhaps she did hear and simply forgot about it.

“By the way, do you remember how you got sick in the first place? Or where you got the pills?” The Kowalski asked, curiously. From all the years he new the woman, she seemed to be immune to sickness in the first place. She took real good care of herself.

The woman crossed her arms in thought. It was quite some time ago and her memories were still a bit clouded, or simply missing. Queenie couldn’t even figure out the layout of her mind at that moment so it was quite the mess.

“I really don’t remember much.”

Tina also crossed her arms, the Auror in her coming out. “Why would anyone want to drug you? What would they gain? Could it somehow be related to what's going on?” Morgan shrugged.

“Well, what do you remember before you became ill?” The Goldstein pushed, curious to know if there was any connection between this and their current predicament.

The woman scrunched her nose as she thought long and hard, trying to stitch together whatever memories were clear. And then her face went blank for a second before her brows furrowed as she recalled a familiar face.

“I met up with Percy.”

Chapter Text

Percival Graves was a no bullshit kinda guy. The guy who looked like he would rather be hit by a train than laugh at a joke. The guy who never took off-days despite the ridiculous hours he worked─did he even sleep? The guy that managed to look impeccably good even after coming back from the field. The guy who could easily walk past a puppy without petting it─no, that wasn’t true, he’d done that before. But that was besides the point.

These were some of the many observations Morgan had made over the time she’d been working in MACUSA. It wasn’t as if she’d been stealing glances at the Auror whenever he’d happen to pass by. Or that she was purposely a bit more handsy when she was chatting with him. Or that she nicknamed him Percy without his permission. No, not at all - Morgan had absolutely no interest in the dashingly handsome man. But who was she fooling? Certainly not a certain Queenie Goldstein.

“You’re staring again~” The blonde hummed with a knowing smile.

Morgan raised a brow as she took a sip out of her cocoa. “Hm...” the witch began, her gaze seeming to intensify on her target. Her target being a certain gentleman’s backside. A dumb sounding chuckle came from her, “Well who wouldn’t stare at a toosh like tha-”

“Morgan!” The Goldstein playfully pushed her companion’s shoulder.

“What?” She responded innocently, though that little smirk on her face did nothing to prove her innocence. “Don’t worry, you’re still number one.” Morgan puffed her chest in pride when she received a laugh in response. It was typical banter between the two. The needless teasing and the mostly platonic flirting. Most of their coworkers could never wrap their heads around how irkling close the two acted, but some came to realize that was simply Morgan’s way of showing affection. She was always much more playful around the people she liked. Sometimes too playful.

“Flatterer. We both know who's your number one.” The two proceeded in a staring contest─which lasted all of 10 seconds. Queenie goes undefeated once more.

Morgan simply rolled her eyes, taking another sip. “Oh please. Just ‘cause I think he’s a looker doesn’t mean he’d be good for─”

“You think he’d be good at many things.”

The dark haired woman nearly spilled her cocoa, a look of utter mortification spreading across her features. She would deny it vehemently if anyone else were to accuse her of such a thing. Her? Morgan Hajin? The cool and smooth No-Maj sympathiser? Imagining Percival Graves doing─ahem .

The Goldstein was always able to rile her up; after all, she literally knew everything about her. Morgan could do nothing but give her companion the most offended look she could muster. Her ears were probably red from being caught red handed.

In a useless attempt to redeem her pride, she leaned against the tabletop as she sat her mug down with semi-seriousness. She pointed a single finger upward with a raised hand as if she was about to begin deliberating.

“I will have you know that I think everybody has their own talents.” 

Queenie hummed as she took a gentle sip from her mug, innocently batting her eyelashes at her flustered companion. “And you happen to think Mister Graves’ talents lie in the bedroom.”

A frustrated groan came from the dark haired woman as she knew she was participating in a losing debate─argument─whatever this was.

“I’m sure you’ve thought about it.”

“I don’t have to. You do enough for the both of us.”

“God fuckin' dam─”

“Now, now. Watch your language young lady.”

And no sooner was Morgan Hajin sliding down her chair childishly, arms crossed, pouting. Coworkers that happened to be walking by even did a double take. Her pride was already lost, what was the point of trying to salvage what little she had left? There was no way to talk herself out of this predicament. The Goldstein simply gave the woman an affectionate little pinch on the cheek as if she was a child.

So perhaps she had a crush on dear old Percy . Just a small one. The smallest.

“Good afternoon Mister Graves!”

Holy hell.

“Good afternoon Miss Goldstein,” came that sultry voice, a slight change in tone as he added, “Morgan .”

Pride? What was that even at this point? The woman was caught pouting like an impudent child by none other than Percival Graves. What has fate wrought?

Percy, ” the dark haired woman responded, mirroring his tone. As smoothly as she could, she returned to her typical, casual looking seating posture. Queenie was doing a very good job at playing the naive blond.

The Auror stood near their table, hands in his pockets, looking as imposing as ever─and very well-groomed. Oblivious to the conversation that had preceded his arrival, he gave the duo a once-over, mildly curious as to what had caused a moping Hajin.

“Seems like you two were having a thrilling conversation. I apologize for intruding,” the man stated simply, just a hint of what sounded like amusement in his tone. For his part, he just wanted to see a distressed Morgan up close.


“Oh yes! Would you care to join us?” The blond received a scathing look.

He shook his head no, “I must return to my work soon.” He responded plainly, but then there was little twinkle in his eyes. “I was simply curious to see what has gotten our friend Morgan so down.”

The dark haired witch scrunched her nose, opening her mouth to deny anything he had witnessed. But of course, Queenie had other ideas.

“Boys,” she stated so quickly that Morgan almost fell out of her chair.

Graves raised a single brow, giving Morgan an almost amused look. “Is that so?”

Now the Hajin was in quite the predicament. She was known for her open and shamelessly playful behavior. She was only so bothered by Queenie’s nosiness since she could see all the dirty little bits in her head. But Percy would think it odd if Morgan wasn’t poking fun at the situation. It would make her look very suspicious. She realized, perhaps, she could do less with all of the flirtatious jokes in the future. It would’ve made this situation a lot less stressful, for her at least.

So Morgan did what she always did─run with it.

With a resolute nod and unfathomably straight face, Morgan responded, “Yup.” Emphasized with a pop of the p. She then crossed her arms with mild seriousness, correcting herself. “Men. Not boys. Boys aren’t fun.”

Graves had a blank expression, as if he’d heard the most ridiculous thing. “Ah, so you’re moping over a man .”

Again, Queenie beat her to the punch.

“Oh yes! Being a woman is awful sometimes. We have to wait for the men to take initiative,” The blond states with a matter-of-fact tone. She gave Morgan the most believable looking sad face she could muster as she laid a delicate hand on her shoulder. “The right one will come one day honey.”

She deserved a trophy for that quality acting.

And before anyone could make a remark, the Goldstein stood from her seat and bid them both farewell with a quick little, “Oh! My breaks over! Buh-bye!” And she was off with a hop in her step.

And all Morgan could do was stare at the woman’s retreating figure, mouth agape. She was so flabbergasted, she hadn’t realized the Auror was still standing there, giving her an unreadable look.


Her nose scrunched in response without her realizing as she returned the man’s gaze with equal intensity.


A beat. And the staring contest intensifies. He blinked first and shifted in place.

“Would you like to have dinner this Sunday?”

Morgan nearly fell out of her chair.

Queenie knew all along.

Chapter Text

Graves was unsure of what to make of a certain Miss Morgan Hajin. He was well aware of the many suspicions his coworkers had regarding the no-maj born.

"How could she not realize she’s a witch?” 

"She could have exposed the wizarding community!”

“What kind of witch doesn’t have a wand?”

Many things along those lines. The Auror was used to hearing such pointless banter that he’d drowned them out of his thoughts. He had better things to do then deal with needless gossip.

But the man knew himself well enough, as he also had these thoughts when they’d initially met. Working at a no-maj bar and casually using magic? That was a recipe for disaster. But he found that he had nothing to worry about as she was as innocent as she claimed; as far as he knew. None of the locals reported anything unusual about the woman; other than shock that he would no longer be working at the bar. They all seemed quite dejected at the thought, and Graves couldn’t help but feel just an inkling of remorse. The witch seemed to have a good life with the no-majs, but rules were rules. No exceptions.

He had suggested that the Madam President assign the witch to the Wand Permit Department as very little magical knowledge was required, and more importantly, it would be easy to keep an eye on the newcomer. And luckily for him, he was right, Morgan easily kept up with the paperwork and was quick as well. Of course, he could see that she would rather be doing other things than reading applications, but work wasn’t meant to be fun . At the very least, she had a good work ethic.

During her first week of work, Graves was certain she had been shooting him death glares when he wasn’t looking. He had seen Tina confront the witch a few times, giving her a lecture about respecting authority or something along those lines, which only seemed to amuse the former. As far as he knew, Morgan seemed to get along quite well with both Goldsteins─Queenie in particular. The man was under the impression the two were romantically involved. Though he started to believe otherwise when he’d witness her seemingly flirting with Tina as well. And Abernathy. And Red. And dare he say, even himself. Morgan was an unusual woman, but he supposed it was part of her charm. She had a way with words that could sway anyone to her favor. It was perhaps because of her overflowing confidence and charisma. But Graves was an immovable object. It would take much more than words to charm the pants off of this man. Perhaps that was why she took to different tactics.

At first, it seemed to be Morgan being Morgan, the purposeful shoulder bumping and her friendly shoulder pats. Then came her daily morning greetings, that seemed to almost always involved her fixing his tie─even when it was made perfectly. Graves thought little of it really, as he became quite used to her playful antics and general closeness. It was unusual for him to be approached so openly and with such casualness, but he didn’t particularly mind. At first it irked him, and thought she was simply demeaning his authority; which in all honesty, she probably was. She wasn’t very fond of authority. But she became a part of his daily routine.

“Mornin’ Percy,” the witch would say, casually leaned up against his door frame with a mug of hot cocoa in hand. He realized that she seemed to like marshmallows and chocolate quite a bit. A sweet tooth probably.

He would then look up from his paperwork, the smallest of smiles present on his face, “Good morning Morgan.”

And then she would offer him a sip of her drink, but he would always refuse. He wasn’t a fan of sugar after all, but she’d ask anyway.

“Shaved this morning did you?” the woman asked in a way that sounded like a statement. She would then follow up with something silly like, “Gotta look spick and span for the ladies hm?” And then a playful wink.

The man would simply scoff at the notion and, unknowingly, stroke his chin in response.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about growing a beard.” He received a pfft in response.

And then she would look for any excuse to get her hands on him. It could be fixing his tie, his coat, even his hair. In this particular instance, she simply traced a casual finger across his jaw with that smirk of hers.

“Probably used magic to zap it off - skin’s much too smooth.”

And then she would receive the look for saying something idiotic, but there would be no move to avoid her touch. The woman would typically leave when he decided to shoo her away so he could get back to his own work.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” He’d ask with a raised brow, to which she would dramatically sigh before slinking out to the hallway.

That was a typical morning conversation between the two. The content in their chats would vary from day to day, but more often than not, Morgan was able to get a hand on the Auror. And he didn’t mind in the least.

Graves would never say it aloud, but he quite enjoyed the witch’s refreshing personality. There were times, however, he would find himself almost jealous of how close she and Queenie were──how she would casually have an arm around the blond’s shoulder or how close their faces would be when they gossiped. He caught himself wishing he was in the Goldstein’s position once in awhile, and would shake the thought from his mind immediately.

The man was always far too busy with his work to ever think about relationships, and even if he bothered to try, he just wouldn’t have the proper time or energy to devote to it. This is what he believed, which was why he never cared much for dating and such fanciful things. And, just for the sake of argument, even if he was interested in a relationship, he wasn’t the most approachable man around. Which was probably why Morgan was so appealing to him.

He would sometimes find himself wondering if the dark haired witch was actually  flirting or just being her casual, playful self. It was extremely difficult to discern the difference, and it gave him pause whenever he even considered...flirting. She was a very unique woman indeed to be able to solicit such a response in the first place.

It was late into the night, nearing 1 am. The building was nearly empty, silence filling the usually crowded halls. The Auror was sitting at his desk, work having been completed nearly an hour ago. However, he had been sitting there quietly, pretending to do work as he waited for a certain someone to come by. He thought it unusual that the witch would not bid him a farewell before heading home, as she typically finished her work before him. Which was why he was sitting there like a fool. Glancing at his clock, dark brows furrowed together wondering if something had happened to her.

Finally getting to his feet, he threw his coat on quickly and as casually as he could before making his way down to the Wand Permit Department. When he arrived, it seemed that everyone had already left, which disappointed him quite a bit.

Did he do something?

He awkwardly shifted in place. And then he heard what sounded like...snoring? Walking towards it, he found himself at the desk of none other than Morgan - who was comfortably asleep. Her head was atop one of her arms as a cushion, the other arm dangling at her side. Her desk was surprisingly tidy, all her paperwork organized and filed away properly. She must have finished her work quite some time ago; he almost didn’t want to wake her up.

“Morgan.” No response.

“Morgan, wake up.” Still no response.

Graves rubbed his chin with a sigh. He made his way over to her side, leaning over, lips nearly inches from her ear and whispers,

“Morgan.” This time, he was successful.

The woman shot up from her seat so quickly, she nearly toppled the taller man over. She looked around for a moment from her sleep-induced dazed, and then gave Graves a very lazy look. Stretching her arms a bit, she placed her hands on her hips as if she’d been attentive all along.

“Where’d everyone go?” Her voice was raspier than usual.

The Auror just shook his head as he grabbed her coat and motioned for her to put it on, which she did rather smoothly, despite being both sleepy and confused.

“They left some time ago, while you were napping .” There was some amusement in his voice. He received a small oh in response, but proceeded to adjust her coat to make sure she looked presentable. She just stood there blinking slowly as she began to realize how close he was standing.

Graves gave the woman a once over and hummed in contemplation. Gently, he pushed a stray strand of hair to the side, fingers brushing against her forehead. So focused on his task, he hadn’t realized the witch had tensed up for a moment before relaxing against his touch. Now satisfied, he took a step back. It was then he realized his companion’s blank expression, and panicked internally, hoping he hadn’t overstepped his boundaries. As if sensing his inner turmoil, Morgan dramatically ran a hand through her hair with a flourish.

“So do I look good now?” Her cheery voice reassured him.

“Hm...” The man tilted his head to the side as if he was considering her question, and nodded affirmatively, “Yes you do.”

He received a wide grin at that and he couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat. He raised a brow as she extended an arm towards him.

“I suppose you’d wanna walk me home then huh?” the woman asked teasingly.

Graves stared at her for a moment then glanced at her arm, and linked arms with her. For a second, he could have sworn the witch had made a face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Shall we then?”

Chapter Text

Thump, thump.

A groan escaped the dark haired witch, who was engulfed in layers of sheets.

Thump, thump, clang.

She blinked her groggy eyes awake at the sound. Almost sounded as if someone had broken into her apartment, she should probably take care of that.

Another tired groan escaped Morgan’s lips as she tried to untangle herself from her blankets, but she was having quite some trouble with it. Well, whoever was robbing her would definitely have time to escape now.

And then something smacked her face with a plap . Something small and furry. And it seemed to be...sniffing her.

Managing to wrap her hands around the thing, the witch lifted it from her face to see that it was none other than a niffler! There was only one wizard who was carrying around little magical creatures like this one, and he was suppose to be returning to England soon.

“Well this is certainly unexpected company!” the witch chimed with an amused smirk. Setting the little creature down on her lap, she scratched the side of its head, earning a happy little squeak. It rubbed its head against her hand affectionately. Aw.

A couple days prior, Newt had allowed the witch to explore his suitcase to properly introduce her to his fantastic beasts. Morgan was in utter awe at the creatures and wanted nothing more than to get one for herself. Such a shame that magical creatures were banned in America. The witch wouldn’t mind having a couple little beasts running around her apartment. Some of them were just plain adorable.

The wizard’s niffler seemed to be particularly fond of the witch, as if sensing their similar talents - thievery. Brother in arms. Taking what they wanted whenever they wanted. The irony was there for certain. Of course, Morgan hadn’t stolen anything since her teenage years, but it wasn’t as if she was out of practice.

“Sorry to say this little fella,” the woman began before proceeding to tickle the beast’s belly, “but those goodies are mine.”

The furry little creature began to squeal in laughter as it flopped onto its side, random trinkets and coins tumbling out of its pouch onto the sheets. Anything magical related still left the witch in awe. She wished she had a bottomless bag - not that she would have any particular use for it.

Satisfied that the niffler had been emptied, Morgan gave it an affectionate pat on the head as it sat back up and made a pitiful look as it stared at its lost spoils. The witch hummed in consideration as she handed the creature a small silver watch as a sort of reward.

“How about this little guy, I’ll give you an entire pouch of shiny things if you help me find Newt.” To that she earned an affirmative nod.

Morgan climbed out of bed and stretched her limbs. Beside her, the niffler had decided to lay in the coins and roll around in it as she washed up. After a couple of minutes, the witch was fully dressed in her typical suit and tie. Throwing on a warm coat and a scarf, she gestured for the niffler to climb on board. It climbed up her coat and nestled its way into her scarf and made itself comfortable. And so their journey began.

“So can you eat regular food?”


“Huh, really? How mad would Mister Scamander be if I gave you a cookie?”

Squeak, squeak!

“Well that’s a shame.”


A couple walked by the witch, giving her a strange look as they did so. The man ushered the woman closer to him, audibly whispering, “Don’t look honey, he’s lost his mind.” Morgan made eye contact with the man and just gave him a cocky little smirk, causing him to look away immediately and quicken their pace.

The witch stopped in place as she felt the niffler poke her chin with its beak. She looked down at the creature with a raised brow as it pointed at the retreating couple.


“Now, now, no stealing. We made a deal remember?” The niffler pouted as it tried to persuade the witch by papping her face with its paws. She stifled a laugh at the creature’s adorable antics. She was just about to concede when a little girl pulled at her coat, staring up at her with wide-eyes.

“Hey mister, what’s that thing?” the child asked curiously, staring at the niffler in utter awe.

Morgan looked down at her with a casual smile and then looked at the niffler with a pointed look, causing it to slowly slink back into her scarf securely. Crouching down to look the girl in the eye, the witch ruffled her curly locks.

“It’s a secret alright? You can’t tell anyone,” the dark haired woman began, and the child nodding furiously, her curiosity overflowing. “It’s a magical fuzzball.”

“A magical fuzzball?”

“Yeah, do you have anything shiny you don’t want?”

The girl nodded and pulled out a copper coin and held it out. Almost immediately, a single paw came out, snatching the coin between two claws and retreating back into its den . The child squealed in excitement, gazing at Morgan as if she was a magician. Oh the irony.

“Now run back to your parents before they worry.”

The witch waved at the girl as she reunited with her parents further along the way, and waved back before they vanished into the crowd. The woman proceeded her trek, sticking her hand into her scarf and poking at the niffler in amusement and earning a squeak.

“Newt!” the witch called out, spotting the lanky figure hobbling along quickly, looking quite panicked. He turned abruptly and walked over, looking around nervously as he did so.

“Hello Ms Hajin,” the wizard responded politely, though it was evident he wasn’t looking for conversation. “I apologize, I’ve seemed to run into a bit of a situation.”

Morgan already knew, and almost felt bad for feigning obliviousness.

“That’s no good. You didn’t lose your ticket did you?”

“Oh no, not exactly.”

The witch crossed her arms, making a look of wonderment.

“Don’t tell me...” Newt made a face, as if sensing she knew that indeed, one of his creatures had escaped again.

“Please don’t tell Tina.” They were on a first name basis? When did that happen? She was definitely going to tease the Auror later.

The witch nodded, “Won’t tell a soul.”

The wizard made an appreciative look and exhaled in exhaustion. “I was looking for it all morning, I’m suppose to be leaving in an hour and I haven’t a clue where it could---”

A small, furry head popped out of its hiding, squawking arrogantly at its owner. Newt narrowed its eyes at the creature, as if not believing that it was actually there. Then he looked at Morgan with bewilderment, both in shock and in awe that the niffler seemed so comfortable residing in her scarf. She just gave him a cheeky grin.

Chapter Text

Morgan couldn’t put her finger on it. There was just something off. Was it the way he was dressed? Maybe his hair? Perhaps the way he walked? She honestly wasn’t sure. But there was something very strange about Graves lately. And no, she wasn’t just saying that because of how easily he’d been brushing her off recently. 

There was something wrong, and it was driving her insane trying to figure it out.

At first, the witch had simply believed he was stressed from work. With all the madness going on lately and a magical beast roaming about, it was completely understandable. Hell, she wasn’t even out in the field and she was getting stressed out about it. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must have been to be out in the city trying to catch something magical and hiding it at the same time. The struggle was there that’s for sure. Aurors were working ridiculous hours, and despite Tina being demoted, Morgan knew the stubborn witch spent her free time investigating as well. So yes, she could understand that Graves had his hands full with things.

But there was an odd sort of...callousness towards her in particular. Maybe the witch was simply being sensitive, spoiled by the man’s affections. Whenever she greeted him, he’d reply with a curt hello before proceeding to work; end of conversation. There was almost this look of irritation in his eyes whenever she even tried to speak with him, and it was really getting under her skin. Morgan wasn’t sure if she was just imagining it or if there was something really strange going on. It also didn’t seem right to poke at him about his unfriendliness since, in all honesty, he was probably just stressed. But it bothered her ─ especially since she believed they had...something.

And as the days passed, the more suspicious she became. Maybe she was just feeling self-conscious? She honestly wasn’t sure anymore. But she had this unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was very wrong with Percy. Morgan didn’t want to be that nosy person that wanted to shove herself into other people's business, but she was about to. And she decided to finally confront him about it in his office.

“Hey Percy, you got a minute?”

The Auror had been working on paperwork and merely glanced upward for a mere second, hands continuing their work.

“I’m rather busy at the moment, Morgan.”

There it was again. Morgan. The way he said it was just...all wrong. Not the way he’d normally say it; with that half-amused half-exasperated tone. Just a plain, mildly irritated ─ Morgan.

“Yeah, I know.” The witch sighed and rubbed the back of her neck almost nervously. “It’s just, uh, I wanted to clear the air─if you got time.”

The man merely sighed, and put down his pen, watching her expectantly. He just looked so worn out.

The witch closed the door behind her slowly, and almost a bit awkwardly, unsure of how to approach this. She decided to take the direct approach.

“Are uh ─ things alright between us?” She mentally berated herself for sounding so needy. “I mean, more importantly, are you feeling alright?”

A pregnant pause followed and Morgan could already feel her hands getting clammy. Asking questions like these while he was working was probably pretty...stupid. She watched as he rubbed a hand across his tired face as he considered her question. And she just stood there in anticipation, waiting for his response like a childish fool.

“I’m sorry.” It caught her off guard completely.

She hadn’t expected an apology. Nor did she expect him to move in front of her so suddenly, a single hand caressing the side of her face tenderly.

“Work just has me stressed, that’s all,” he responds, with a softness that seemed...almost forced. But the gesture alone had the witch ensnared as she blinked absentmindedly, gazing into his eyes with wonder.

“Dinner, tonight?” He whispers softly, lips brushing against the side of her cheek.

Morgan could feel the heat rising up to her face immediately as she managed to utter a not-so-cool sounding, “Sure.”

Lost in the moment, she hadn’t realized that those hands weren’t familiar to her. Nor would she realize that she wouldn’t remember this conversation.

Chapter Text

“I don’t need a wand.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“Seriously Morgan, just go get a wand ─ please.”

Porpentina felt like she was about to lose her mind. It was as if she was arguing with a 6 year old about the importance of brushing their teeth ─ for thirty minutes straight. Never in her wildest dreams would she ever think she would be having this conversation with a grown adult.

The Goldstein furrowed her brows at her smug-faced companion, a look of utter disbelief on her face. “Are we really going to argue about this?”

Morgan stared back blinking lazily, “If you wanna phrase it that way, then mmm....yeah.”

“You work at MACUSA. You need a wand.”

“I do paperwork, why would I ever need one?”

“Of course you need one!”

“I rarely use magic, so who cares?”

“I care! It’s a necessity! Even children have wands! It’s dangerous to practice wandless magic!”

She received a groan in response.

“I’ve never even touched a wand before, I’m better off without it,” Morgan responds with a casual shrug, sipping from her mug slowly.

The older woman pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. A moment of silence. Aside from the sound of Morgan’s slow sipping.

“Would you just get one, please? It’s for your own safety, and everyone else’s.”

The sipping continued.

“Morgan, I’m being serious.”

Still sipping.

The older woman placed her hands on her hips like a disappointed mother. “Do I really have to ask Mister Graves to have a chat with you?”

And finally a swallow.

Morgan hummed in contemplation, glancing into her now empty mug for a moment before giving her companion a smirk. “That sounds interesting,” she drawled in amusement, “I think I’d be able to convince him otherwise.”

And so there they were, the three of them, standing in silence in the office of none other than Percival Graves. Morgan gazed smugly at Graves, hands in her pockets looking as if she hadn’t a single care in the world. He stared back at her with an unreadable expression before blinking and glancing at Tina, who was currently looking at everything else but him, almost embarrassed that she'd resorted to this. The man merely sighed and waved Tina out of the room. She left briskly, closing the door behind her, leaving only the two to stare at each other in dramatic silence. The dark haired witch merely waited, eager to see what the man’s next move would be.

“We’re getting you a wand,” he states, arms now crossed resolutely.

Morgan merely raised a brow at him, which pretty much translated to Is that the best you can do?

He in turn raised a thick brow of his own, unimpressed. He then shook his head as he walked around his desk to stand in front of the witch. Now that they stood toe-to-toe, with him looking down at her and her up at him, his expression was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Morgan seemed to realize what kind of strategy the man was going for, but didn’t budge from her spot. Instead, the smugness of her smirk began to increase.

“Hm, I can see why Tina asked me to speak with you.” While his voice was stern, his eyes read otherwise.

The witch hummed innocently, leaning in slightly as if to challenge the Auror. “I can’t imagine why she’d think you of all people would be able to change my mind.” The disrespect.

Graves took one step forward so the two were now chest to chest, head hovering slightly over the woman’s shoulder, breath hot against her ear. “I’m sure it won’t be particularly difficult.” He received the desired effect as the shorter woman tensed up for a split second, choking on whatever words she was about to say. But it was only for a moment.

“Hah...I have no idea what you mean,” Morgan responds, voice cracking slightly and cheeks now dusted pink. “I mean after all, you don’t seem to have a wand either.”

The Auror blinked in confusion for a moment, before a small frown made its way to his face. Pulling back a bit, he caught a glimpse of his wand. In Morgan’s hand. Sneaky little──

“Morgan...” he began, using that tone.

She shrugged innocently, her hands now behind her back, hiding what she so obviously held. “And here I thought the Director of Magical Security would be above hypocrisy.” Her confidence was back just like that. “What a terrible role model you are.”

Graves knew the witch well enough to know that using his authority to get what he wanted would never work. Nor would simply asking her politely grant results. He was in a minor bind, and knew that what she wanted was for him to act unprofessionally and out of character.

So he merely sighed and shook his head, before backing up to lean against his desk, arms crossed again. “You just can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself,” he merely stated with a surprisingly sassy tone.

The dark haired witch raised a brow, almost suspiciously, before smirking. “You like it, just admit it.”

“I do.”

“I’m sure you──huh?” Morgan blinked, blindsided.

Graves smirked internally, though his expression remained aloof. “I wouldn’t be opposed to more...considering you seem to enjoy handling my wand in particular.”

There was a few moments of silence as the witch’s mind just caught up with his words. She gawked for a moment, blanking out, unable to find words to speak. In a moment of clarity, she rushed forward, shoving the wand haphazardly into the man’s chest before retreating in embarrassment.

“I think I’m just gonna go shopping now so....yeah!” The door opened and closed rapidly.

And now Graves was alone in his office, holding his wand with the most amused expression his stoic face could muster.

The door opened again, just wide enough for Morgan to peak her head through, “But that doesn’t mean I’m getting a wand.”

“We’ll see about that.”

The door shut.

Chapter Text

The air was cold, made colder by the moonlight and wind blowing through the deserted streets. Two figures walk side-by-side in stride, seemingly in no rush despite the chill. 

"My ass is freezing," Morgan whines as she presses her side against Percival's taller form in an attempt to absorb his warmth. His expression remains unchanging as he wraps a single arm around her, locking her against him. It was difficult to tell if the flush of her cheeks was because of the cold or him; he liked to think it was because of him of course, but it was most likely a combination of both. 

"We could always apparate," he states simply with a slight shrug. He chuckles lightly when she scrunches her pink nose in disapproval. 

"Don't wanna walk with me? I see how it is," she jokes, bumping the side of her head against his shoulder teasingly. He only rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever will we do with your frozen cheeks?" Sarcasm practically pours from his lips, and no sooner does Morgan begin to cackle at his deadpanned delivery. Percival does an amazing job hiding a grin, staring dead ahead as if nothing was amiss. 

"God, I'm telling Tina you said that─" she bursts into another fit of laughter at the mere thought of the woman's baffled expression.

The auror scoffs and shakes his head, "You could, but she won't believe you." 

"Queenie can read my mind."

"Hm, touché." 

The banter continues for a while longer, consisting mainly of Morgan giggling at Percival's dry sense of humor. And sooner than they'd expected, the duo arrive at their destination. 

"Well, here's my stop." There's a moment of hesitation before she slips out of his grasp, now facing him with a sheepish grin. "See you tomorrow?"

The auror nods in agreement, cold hands returning to his coat pockets as he turns to face her as well. His gaze is soft and there's just a hint of a smile creeping to his lips. "Yes you will." She hums in approval. 

For a moment, neither of them move, warm eyes locked onto one another in a comfortable silence. Morgan's grin, however, slowly shifts to a shaky, shy smile as her cool composure begins to break under her companion's attention. She glances downward, shifting in place a bit, before returning her gaze upward. This was the part where she was supposed to enter the apartment complex. Percival doesn't budge an inch, waiting for her to leave first, and he finds a deep chuckle suddenly escaping him to break the silence. Her expression morphs into one of confusion as her head tilts to one side. "What?" 

The man gestures towards the apartment building. "Weren't you complaining about the cold?" 

She blinks at him before ruffling the back of her hair in embarrassment, "It is cold! I'm just─" She wavers as he steps closer with a smirk, hands finding their way to her hips. A rush of heat crawls up the witch's neck when he leans forward, leaning his forehead against hers affectionately. Her eyes squeeze shut, heart pounding as she bashfully places her hands on his shoulders as a shaky breath escapes her. He's glad she's not looking at him or else she'd see the light redness of his own cheeks. 

"Warm yet?" His voice is low and damn near seductive. If Morgan's face wasn't red before, it was now. There's a pause as she inhales shakily in an attempt to compose herself.

"Could be warmer..." she responds softly, fingers clenched against the fabric of his coat in anticipation. 

No sooner are his lips against hers, bodies now flush against each other, fire flowing through their veins. They didn't dare move or even breathe so they could fully savor the moment. And it was over, just like that. 

The moment Percival pulls away, he finds Morgan immediately shoving her head into his chest in an attempt to hide her blush. She mumbles incoherently as the auror removes his hands from her waist, wrapping his arms around her smaller form. Placing his chin on her head, he shuts his eyes in content. Again, they stand in silence, adrenaline filled hearts beginning to slow down. Running a hand absentmindedly through her hair, he states seriously, "You really will catch a cold if you don't go inside."

He receives a groan in response as Morgan reluctantly pulls away, cheeks still flushed as she pouts and averts her gaze. "Yeah yeah, okay." He chuckles and strokes her cheek gently before pecking the top of her head; he pretends to not notice her lip twitch. 

As she opens the door, she turns to give him one last glance, a soft smile on her lips. "Goodnight Percy."

He returns the smile, gaze tender. "Goodnight Morgan." The door finally shuts.

Percival stands there a moment before taking a breath. He takes a few steps away before apparating out of sight.