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Chapter Text

The coat hanged on the nearby chair, the strong scent of coffee, paperwork on the desk of his office… Graves leaned on the desk, almost sitting on it, cup in one hand and the papers in other one. His gaze followed the lines written on it, with a concentration that amazed the man in front of him.


Newt was looking at him with a satisfied smile on his face. Black eyes raised from the paper and glanced at him.


“So, Mr. Scamander,” Graves started and Newt flushed. This voice had that kind of effect on him, and sent that kind of shivers down his spine. “is this one of the beasts you captured recently?” Graves’ eyes darted back to the paper he read earlier for a split second before looking at Newt again.


“Yes.” He replied with an almost inaudible tone.


“And you want to share your discovery with MACUSA’s mediwizards. Did I understand you properly?” Graves put the cup and the papers down on the table and crossed his arms on the broad chest. Newt gulped as he watched his muscles flex and the fabric of the shirt hug his upper body in all the right places.


“Y-yes.” Newt stuttered and glanced to the side, hiding his eyes from the other man “I would be happy if my research will help to improve medicine and save lives.” His hands were sweaty, and he fidgeted hopelessly, still trying to avoid looking directly at Graves’ face.


Graves sighed and shifted from his spot. When Newt finally gathered the courage to look at him again, Graves already was sitting at his desk and signing Newt’s papers.


Newt caught himself staring at the other man again. Graves had a little frown on his handsome face, some strands of his black hair fell over his forehead and his hand was moving smoothly as he wrote. Newt inhaled sharply as his heartbeat picked up its pace. He felt his face grow hotter by every passing second and the way Graves smiled at him while handing the papers didn’t do anything useful to stop his fast heart-beating.


“T-thank you, Mr. Graves.” Newt said and took the papers in his trembling hands.




Newt jumped on his spot at the mention of his name and looked into those black, beautiful eyes.


“What is it, Mr. Graves?”


Did he observe how Newt stared at him? He didn’t, did he?


Another sigh escaped those lips and Newt had the urge to gulp again “Why are you acting like that? Does my presence make you uncomfortable that much that you refuse to look at me when I talk to you?”


Newt blinked. Graves thought he was uncomfortable around him? Perhaps, he was partially true, because Newt felt his body reacting in some wrong (good) way to the other man. And not only his body, but mind as well. He felt happy by just being around Graves.


 The corners of his lips involuntarily turned up as he tried to hold back a chuckle. “No, it’s not that.” Newt shook his head, feeling his heart slow down a bit. He felt warmth spread in his chest, and it was a wonderful feeling, something he would like to experience over and over again. “I’d say…” he trailed off, his smile turning somehow into a small smirk “it’s totally the opposite.”


He watched as Graves’ face softened and body relaxed in his seat. “Good.” Graves murmured, his eyes looking directly into Newt’s as he repeated “Very good.”


Newt flushed and tried to break the eye-contact, to look away from those enchanting eyes which he wanted to look at him and him only, but just couldn’t. There were too many feelings boiling inside of him at the moment, it was hard to breathe. Oh, he forgot how to breathe for a moment here.


Graves didn’t look away as well, even as he stood up and approached the young wizard.


Watching Graves move, walk, speak, smile was something Newt didn’t get tired of, something he couldn’t get enough even. He observed every movement of his limbs as that approached him and almost melted when that hand touched his cheek. His heart was beating loudly, it almost felt like it will jump out of his chest.


Graves’ hand was calloused, but warm and the touch was so gentle, that Newt forgot how to breathe all over again.


Black eyes were half-lidded as their owner’s face leaned closer to Newt’s. The redhead gasped for air and Graves took advantage of that to tongue-kiss him right away.


Newt felt his legs give in as that skillful tongue explored his mouth in the most shameless way. Open-mouthed, dirty even, lips sucking at his own, teeth nibbling and biting greedily. Graves’ hand gripped the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. Newt kissed back, shyly moving his lips against others as his arms clutched desperately at Graves’ shirt. He was out of breath, but didn’t want this to stop. Never.


But eventually, they broke the kiss and both panted, hot breaths mixing as their faces were just inches away from each other.


“You thought I won’t notice the way you look at me, Scamander?” Graves chuckled low at the way Newt’s blush expanded to his neck and ears. He ran a hand through redhead’s locks, and hummed appreciatively. “I wonder though…” Graves said, his voice just a bit above a whisper as he leaned close to Newt’s ear, his breath ghosting on redhead’s skin “did you notice how I look at you?”

Chapter Text

He raised his trembling hand parallel to the dark surface of an office door, his breath uneven and vision darkening. He shouldn’t really care about being polite in his situation, but he’s well-mannered after all. His current state wasn’t an excuse to be rude.


Just when his pale hand finally reached the door, it swung open by itself and he was greeted by a pair of black, wide eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out of his sore throat as much as he tried to say something.


“Newt?” he briefly heard, before his vision went black completely and legs finally gave in.


He woke up, because he felt like his body was on fire. He cracked one eye open and took in his surroundings: it was still Graves’ office. Newt spotted the other man at the other end of the couch, looking out of the window. He shifted and made a pained sound when a strong ache hit his head.


Black eyes immediately turned to look at him, clear worry in them.


“Newt, how are you feeling?” Graves murmured, rushing at his side to make sure the younger wizard won’t try to get up or push the blanket he was wrapped in aside.


Newt groaned, letting his head fall back on the pillow “Definitely better than some hours ago.” Newt blinked and focused his tired gaze on Graves, and his lips formed a gentle smile as he said “Thank you.”


“No bigs.” Graves replied, his features visibly softening as he put a hand on Newt’s forehead. “You’re still hot though.”


Newt chuckled and coughed “I’ll take that as a compliment I guess.”


Graves narrowed his eyes at him “Quit joking around. What did you do to end up like this?”


Newt bit his lip and looked anywhere but Graves. It was something too stupid, he was sure Graves will laugh at his stupidity.


“So, what?” Graves demanded impatient. Newt sighed deeply.


“I stayed in the rain for… umm… two hours was it?”


He heard Graves sigh. That’s it. Now he thought that Newt not only was a freak, but also a fool.


“And may I ask, why did you do such a thing?” Graves asked, brows furrowed, with a scowl on his face.


Newt pulled the blanket over his head and mumbled “…ank…”




“Frank…” Graves heard it more clearly and sighed again.


“You watched that thunderbird for two hours without using a damn umbrella at least?”


Newt flinched “Sorry.”


Graves cursed under his breath and yanked the blanket from Newt’s face. “You’re a complete idiot.”


Newt shivered and only then realized just how embarrassing his state truly was. Under the blanket, he was completely naked.


When he flushed and gaped at Graves, that gave him an unimpressed look mumbling something about wet clothes and “well, what didn’t I see there anyway?”


Graves leaned close to his face and Newt could feel his heart beating faster, body feeling hotter, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t caused by the fever. Graves pressed his forehead against Newt’s and looked him in the eye, his lips almost touching Newt’s as he spoke quietly “You should be more careful. I’m worrying about you, you know?”


Newt finally let the air swish out of his lungs. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath. He smiled as Graves brushed his nose against his. Sometimes, Graves reminded him of a cat. Of a big predatory cat, who turned into some domestic kitten when they were alone in moments like these. And he loved it.


“Yeah, I know.” Newt replied, hands going up to cup Graves’ face and drag him closer. “I’m sorry.” Newt whispered and pulled the auror into a kiss.


Graves may be a strict person, but he also had this soft side of him, which Newt couldn’t help but adore. He didn’t see Graves acting like that around anyone else, and it made him feel special. He absolutely loved the fact of being someone special to Graves, someone he always could rely on, someone with whom he wouldn’t bother to share his thoughts with, someone with whom he would feel special as well.


Newt knew he was utterly in love with this man and this simple fact made him extremely happy.


Graves’ lips were something that Newt craved with all of his being, as well as the touch of his hands.


Newt gasped in their kiss, as Graves gripped his thigh through the blanket. Graves smirked down at him and Newt shut his eyes close, trying to bit back the loud moan which threatened to escape his lips.


“How about some body-to-body therapy, Newton?” Graves whispered low, promising even.


Newt gulped. This kitten sometimes turned back into his predatory mode, and Newt loved it as well. He loved everything about Percival Graves.

Chapter Text

Newt watches silently, his eyes roaming all over the figure in front of him, taking in the elegance of every movement as Graves dressed up. He watches as those strong muscular legs disappear under the black fabric of the pants Graves is getting in. Newt unconsciously licks his lips and continues to look.


Graves bends down to put a pair of socks on and his ass is fully exposed to Newt’s eyes, which he couldn’t tear off of that part of body, just because it is just too sexy, unfairly sexy. Newt feels his cheeks burning hot, but he keeps his eyes glued to Graves’ body as that straightens up and reaches a hand to grab the shirt from the hanger nearby.


Newt observes how the man’s biceps constrict as he grabs the thing, maybe putting more force than needed, but he does not complain. He isn’t in the position to complain anyway. He looks as Graves’ perfect sculpted back is wrapped in the thin white fabric and it begins to take shape of that back as Graves buttons it up.


The man still stays with his back to Newt, oblivious of the other staring. He tucks the shirt into his pants and seeks for a particular tie in the drawer, as Newt thinks. Long fingers are working neatly, with skillful movements on the tie and Newt buries his face in his hands, taking a deep breath to calm his hammering heart.


Just when he thinks where those fingers were while they… He shook his head. He should not think about that. Newt raises his head and suppresses a gasp. He needs to breathe, he knows it, but the air became foreign to him for a moment there.


Newt feels completely wrecked when Graves pulls the jacket on, buttoning only a button and straightening the collar. Just as his shirt, the jacket stays tight on his shoulders and waist. Newt can’t help it anymore. He wants to touch, to feel that body pressed against his own.


Giving his lips a last lick, he stands up from the bed, not caring about his nakedness. He walks soundlessly to Graves, who’s still unaware of Newt being awake, and wraps his hands around that waist. Feeling how the muscles tense under his touch and then almost instantly relax, makes Newt smile as he buries his reddening face in Graves’ shoulder.


Graves shifts and puts his hands on Newt’s giving them a light squeeze.


“Morning.” Newt mumbles snuggling into his shoulder and taking in the musky scent of Graves’ cologne.


“Morning.” Graves replies and his voice is low, but soft, and it causes Newt’s skin prickle as if an electric wave ran through his body. He presses further into Graves’ body, the warmth tangible even through the layers of clothing.


He hears Graves chuckling and his hands are pried off only to be put back on Graves’ waist, as that turns around, facing Newt. Graves’ hand goes up to cup his face and Newt can’t help but lean into the touch. He watches Graves’ lips forming a smirk as his eyes go from Newt’s flushed face down to his shoulders and chest, and suddenly Newt is aware of being naked. His blush deepens, his hands are slightly shaking on the other man’s waist, but he’s trying his best to suppress his shyness.


Graves’ eyes go down further and his smirk widens. He looks up in Newt’s eyes, his own darkening with lust.


“Did I get dressed too early?” he says, his voice dropping almost to a whisper as he leans to Newt’s ear and puffs out a hot breath, making the redhead shiver.


“I’m sorry.” Newt mumbles, trying to be steady on his feet. However, his erection is pressing against Graves’ crotch and he feels like thrusting his hips forward, just to get some friction, to ease the feeling even for a bit, because he needs it. He desperately needs it, but Graves keeps his hips in place with those strong hands of his, making Newt whimper.


“Wait,” he says, his smirk still in place “I don’t want to ruin the suit. You like it very much, I know.” Graves smiles knowingly as Newt gapes at him. “Anyway,” he says and starts dragging the redhead back to their bed. He pushes Newt’s chest, so that lands on the soft blanket “sit there and…” Graves looks into his eyes and for a moment Newt thinks his heart is going to jump out of his chest. “Spread your legs for me, Newton.”


Newt inhales sharply as Graves drops down on his knees in front of him and just obeys, spreading his long legs. He feels his skin burning wherever Graves touches him. He lets his head drop back as his eyes flutter close, with his mouth agape in a silent scream as he feels something hot – Graves’ lips – wrap around his throbbing erection.


He tries to keep his balance as he supports himself with a hand off bed, the other one going to tug at the two-toned hair. Graves bobs his head eagerly, sucking at the tip and running his tongue on the thick vein, making Newt moan and filling the room with lewd noises.


Newt’s feeling everything Graves wants him to feel: the light nips, the way Graves’ teeth grazes his sensitive skin. It sends shivers through his entire body. He feels his climax nearing, so he tugs at Graves’ hair harder, but Graves does whatever he wants.


Newt’s looking into his eyes and he’s mesmerized by the view. He can tell his cock is hitting the back of Graves’ throat and that chokes on it a little, but he doesn’t budge, even when Newt tugs harder it starts hurting.


“Percival, wait- I’m gonna- !” Newt warns, but Graves is stubborn. His body tenses and then shudders as he comes. He’s moaning, he’s panting, his thoughts are a total mess. Newt barely perceives when Graves lets go of his cock and swallows his cum, licking at those swollen lips.


He looks as Graves stands up and he reaches out, grabbing his tie and yanking him close. Newt kisses him urgently, desperately even and Graves lets his lover to dominate the kiss, but meets it with no less fervor.


Graves pulls away and notices how Newt is staring at the bulge in his pants. Before the redhead gets to say anything, he shushes him.


“Don’t worry, ” he says softly “I have something to jerk myself off to.” Graves smirks and Newt knows exactly what he means by something.


Newt blushes to the tips of his ears. Graves is a pervert, but he’s not better.

Chapter Text

Newt squirmed as the hot sticky mess covered his upper body. A strong scent of chocolate hit his nostrils and he inhaled sharply. He heard a low chuckle just inches above his ear.


“Sorry,” Graves muttered, but his expression wasn’t an apologetic one as Newt thought, “is it too hot?”


Newt shook his head, just a little bit, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he agreed to this. Just the thought of what was going to happen – what Graves wanted to do – made him blush furiously.


He never considered the other man to be this perverted. He never knew that he was this perverted.


Newt opened his eyes and stared into Graves’ ones, darkened with lust and glinting dangerously as he watched Newt’s muscles tense under the thin layer of melted chocolate. He licked his lips.


Newt tugged at the fabric, which Graves used to tie his hands up to the headboard, shifting uncomfortably under that hungry gaze.


“P-Percival… ah. I don’t think I…” he mumbled out, but was cut off by a tongue running up his abdomen. Newt let out a yelp, which turned into a strangled moan as Graves’ tongue moved up to lick at his chest.


Newt threw his head back, closing his eyes again as Graves’ mouth landed on one of his nipples, sucking hard on it. Graves watched him, Newt could say that he was watching every reaction on Newt’s face. He could feel those heated glares on him even without looking back.


Graves released his nipple and raised his head. Newt opened his eyes reluctantly, and caught a naughty smirk spreading on those lips, which still had some chocolate on them. He wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment, it was practically itching.


Newt wasn’t sure about how he looked, probably his face was red, hair tousled, but he didn’t care. He parted his lips and raised his head off pillows, leaning as far as the tied hands allowed him to, he desperately needed that tongue in his mouth, those lips on his.


“Kiss me.” Newt whispered, his body shivering as Graves’ grip on his thigh tightened, “Percival, please.”


Graves muttered a curse under his breath, and closed the small gap between them, kissing Newt the way he liked the most: open-mouthed, with their tongues tangling and saliva mixing. Newt felt the sweet taste of chocolate in Graves’ mouth and he moaned appreciatively.


They broke apart and Newt’s lips searched again for Graves’ ones, but the man slightly pushed him down while looking him in the eye.


“No,” Graves said firmly, adding with a little frown on his handsome face “don’t interrupt my meal, Newton.”


Newt watched him wide-eyed for a moment, then broke into a string of chuckles. Graves made him to shut up in an instant though, when that tongue ran across his stomach again, cleaning the skin of the sticky dark brown mess. Newt’s mouth was emitting these sweet moans and gasps that were more than enough to make Graves hard. Not like Newt’s situation was any better.


Newt began grinding into him and Graves had to grab his hips to keep him in place.


“Mmm, don’t worry, ” Graves said, licking at his lips again “that part” and his eyes landed on Newt’s erection, his gaze more hungry than ever “comes next.”


Newt could only watch as Graves' tongue continued to lick, his lips to suck, and his Adam's apple to bob as he swallowed. Graves knew how to make good use of that mouth and Newt was more than eager to let him to.

Chapter Text

Newt holds him close to his chest and smiles down at their boy. He feels those small hands tugging, that small mouth sucking and it makes him feel complete. He’s utterly happy and he’s totally oblivious to the heated glares his husband sends him from across the room.


At first, Percival watches fondly Newt breastfeeding their son and can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. But after five minutes, he raises his eyes from the newspaper he’s reading almost every ten seconds. He just can’t concentrate, damn it. He keeps staring at the expression of pure bliss on baby’s face.


Percival wonders if it’s that good. He wants to feel it himself, but it’s kind of ridiculous, isn’t it? Feeling jealousy like this. He knows it, but can’t stop and it’s getting frustrating.


The moment Newt puts their sleeping son in his bed, Percival throws the newspaper on the table and tiptoes behind Newt, snaking his arms on the slim waist.


Newt jumps at the touch, but relaxes almost instantly. He barely holds back a chuckle as Percival is tickling his bare skin. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes, but opens them wide when he hears a low growl as Percival keeps nipping at his shoulder’s skin.


Newt feels something hard pressing between his ass cheeks and this time he actually chuckles.


“Percy,“ he says and turns around, at which, Percival frowns and Newt thinks it’s just beyond cute “really?“


Percival’s frown quickly fades away and its place takes a very suspicious smirk. He leans close to Newt’s ear and whispers


“You looked so sexy, I couldn’t stop thinking…“ He moves his mouth from Newt’s ear downwards, until it reaches one of his puffy nipples. Percival gently licks at it and Newt moans, gripping his hair.


“Oh, you didn’t make these sounds earlier, when-“


“My god, Percy.“ Newt starts sternly, ready to scold like the mother he was, but Percival doesn’t let him to.


For the next two hours, every sound or word out of Newt’s mouth is either a muffled groan or a variation of his husband’s name. And Percival would continue if it wasn’t for the time of feeding their boy again.

Chapter Text

Now I want you all to stop and imagine a dark, narrow street. A ginger haired head peeking from the corner of a building.

Newt wasn’t the best at spying out there, but apparently good enough for the traffickers to not observe him… just yet.

Newt doesn’t have time to even gasp as a strong arm manhandles him back and the other one closes over his mouth, muffling any sound that threatened to escape.

He wants to move, to yell, but he can’t. The person is stronger than him, and the hand on his mouth presses more onto his lips.

“Shhhh.“ Newt hears someone shushing him, whispering low into his ear. “Scamander, what the fuck.“

Newt’s eyes widen as he recognizes the voice. It belongs to no one other than Percival Graves. He tips his head back and looks at the man still holding him. Graves releases him and Newt smooths his clothes a bit, avoiding Graves’ eyes. He can’t trust his face at the moment. Probably he’s flushed. Holy unicorns.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graves, but what are you doing here?“

“That is my question, Scamander. What are you doing nearby a place where is an illegal deal happening?“ Graves growls under his breath but keeps his tone not higher than a mere whisper. He’s angry. Holy thunderbirds.

“Nothing suspicious.“ Newt raises his hands up defensively, trying to reassure Graves.

Graves isn’t convinced apparently, but lets it slide for now.

“Stay here.“ Graves says, and walks past him. “And stay silent until we’re done. I don’t want to do that again.“

Newt does want you do that again, Mr. Graves, so he yells abruptly, distracting the traffickers and making Graves’ work much easier.

When he’s back,Graves looks intensely at him and when Newt wants to open his mouth to apologize, because he knows it was stupid, and bla bla bla, a hand lands on his mouth and Graves murmurs into his ear.

“Shut the fuck up, Scamander.“

Chapter Text

They’re in a meeting. Newt sits on his throne, surrounded by his devoted knights and advisors.They discuss their next move, their strategies in the upcoming war. It may seem that their king is listening to every word of theirs, judging by the little frown on his face. He does it when he’s serious, when he’s in deep thought.

But. But King Newton isn’t the one to be bothered by such things as strategies. He’s absolute. He knows he’ll win the wars before they even started. He doesn’t need strategies to win. He’ll ride one of his dragons and wipe the battlefield with one swing of their wings.

The reason he’s frowning is that he isn’t present at the meeting.

The door suddenly swings open and Percival appears, covered in bruises and blood. His armor is heavy on his shoulders as he comes closer, hurries, kneeling in front of his king. The room is deathly silent.

Newt watches him, his gaze icy cold. Percival dares to look back into his eyes.

Newt waves a hand, dismissing others. Percival doesn’t budge, and watches Newt approaching him. Newt is gracious when he moves, when he fights, when he even breathes. He stops in front of Percival, his eyes still boring into knight’s ones.

“I told you so many times,“ Newt says, his voice like silk “Percival,“ his drops his gaze to the blood stained armor and scrunches his nose “I’m the only one who can make you bleed.“

“Your Majesty-“ Percival starts, but any other word dies before it’s voiced when Newt leans and wipes his face off blood and dirt. Then his face is grabbed harshly, he can feel the fingers digging into the bone of his jaw.

“You seem to not understand that you belong to me.“ Newt’s eyes narrow dangerously and Percival swallows. “Nobody can lay a finger on you, but me.“

Percival closes his eyes and nods frantically. This man… he’ll die for this man. Newt knows it. But doesn’t want to give him the pleasure of being a hero who died for his country, for his king. He “punishes” him whenever he sees even a small scratch on Percival’s skin, funny thing, since he’s a knight, not a fucking princess to be kept and protected.

He feels the fingers letting go of his face and tangle in his hair instead. Percival opens his eyes. He sees a smirk dancing at the edges of Newt’s lips.

“How many, Percival?“

“Fifty, Your Majesty.“

The hand on his head moves soothingly, and Percival leans into the touch.

He would kill many more, if that means he’ll be touched by those palms, held in those arms. He’s fucked up, thoroughly and entirely, but he couldn’t care less as long as he remains by his king’s side.

Chapter Text

The night streets of New York are quiet. The December wind is chilly, but it feels quite good on Percival’s skin as that makes his way through the almost empty city back to his apartment building. At first, he wanted to apparate directly here, but then decided against it. He’s definitely tired, it was a hellish day at work, so much paperwork he didn’t see since his junior auror days, and he knows whom he has exactly to thank for that, or rather tell to- hey, do a good thing for once and go fuck yourself, Grindelwald.

He sighs deeply and continues walking. He takes it slow, with unhurried steps and it almost seems like a nice walk under the starry sky. Oh, that sounded sappy. He feels like a complete idiot, but he smiles. Newt affects him so much. Percival is an utterly wrecked fool in love. Mercy Lewis, he’s like a fucking teenager with a crush.

His cheeks are probably red by now, and the reason surely isn’t the cold weather. Percival grunts to himself and continues to walk. He passes the Central Park and stops, taking a few steps back before squinting into the dimly lit area and particularly at a silhouette.

Gods above, it looks like the person is summoning demons or doing some shady rituals judging by the way they’re moving. And Percival wouldn’t really care about what the hell that idiot is up to, but if something will actually be summoned, it may - it will break the statute of secrecy and no, thank you very much, he had enough paperwork for today.

Percival sprints down the hill, and when the silhouette becomes more clear, he recognizes the signature blue coat, the suitcase on the frozen surface of the lake, the curly ginger hair-

He silently approaches him and taps his shoulder, while his eyebrow twitches in annoyance “Newton Scamander,“ Percival says monotonously making Newt yelp and jump away “what the hell.“

Newt visibly relaxes after recognizing him, but quickly looks away after the little eye-contact Percival got “I. Mr. Graves, good- er, night?“ He’s fidgeting as Percival continues to stare at him sternly. Another brief glance up, into Percival’s questioning eyes before he’s a blabbering mess “Ah, I was performing a welcoming dance for that little fellow over there to get him into my case without much trouble, but then you came and interrupted it and now I don’t know how it will react-“

It reacts. With a slap of its tail across Percival’s face. Lucky him, it’s a little fellow.

The beast, the name of which Percival still didn’t know, huffs and jumps into Newt’s case without any further ado and the magizoologist happily closes and latches it. Then, just then, he remembers about Percival and his abused face.

“Oh, Merlin’s beard, I’m terribly sorry for Brian’s behaviour, Mr. Graves!“ Newt squeaks, ducking his head.

“I won’t forgive you, Scamander.“ Percival says gloomily. Newt’s shoulders slump and Percival suppresses a chuckle. “Unless you’re going to join me for dinner.“

Newt raises his head, at first in shock and then a shy smile spreads on his lips. He nods and ducks his head again, and Percival would gladly admire that blush on Newt’s freckled skin if it wasn’t for-

“But first, let me get a first aid kit. I think my nose is bleeding.“

Chapter Text

Newt heard a lot of things about the new assistant of Anatomy professor. He usually didn’t really care about people, about how they look or what they wear. He was listening to what they talk about. And well, that narrowed his attention to the grumpy old professors and their lessons.

He was perfectly fine with that kind of student’s life and often was simply ignored by his fellow group mates. Oh, they tried to socialize with him, inviting him along when they went somewhere to have fun, but Newt wasn’t good at socializing. He always tended to annoy people, so he stopped trying a long time ago.

The first time he saw Mr. Graves was like watching some sloppily made introduction to a porn film. He watched few, alright? Just to experiment stuff, don’t judge him. So, Mr. Graves entered the classroom, pacing like a fucking model in front of them and stopped by the professor’s desk to tell the old man something.

Newt’s eyes didn’t know where to look seriously. He didn’t see anyone ever before who will think of as an attractive person. There was a lot of whispering between his mates but he paid them no attention, because Graves was going back and their eyes just met? And Newt’s hand jerked dropping the pencil he held. So, he naturally went down, under the desk to search for it, only to unceremoniously bang his head when he wanted to stand up. He got out eventually, not without a dull pain in his skull, but Graves was already gone and he dreamily sighed for the rest of the lesson, which he didn’t find as interesting as five minutes ago.

The second time he saw Mr. Graves was when he had his lunch at the cafeteria, the next Wednesday. Newt sat silently at his usual spot, near the window, munching on his favorite sandwich and reading through his report. Whenever he had something to work on, he would do that, but when he didn’t, he would just look out of the window and admire the nature. The spot had such a beautiful view and he was shocked that no one took it. Maybe other students were too busy gossiping and chatting with their friends.

A low hum made Newt raise his eyes from the paper he was reading. Mr. Graves sat at a table in front of him, and thank God, he was with his back at Newt, because Newt couldn’t trust his face at the moment. Mr. Graves was probably eating something really delicious, judging by the appreciative sounds he made.Newt’s face turned red and he couldn’t really breathe... because he was literally choking on his sandwich. He tried to swallow, tears forming in his eyes. After seconds of struggling, and he genuinely thought he will die, the bite of food went down his throat and he started coughing violently. Several persons watched him with worry, including Mr. Graves. Why no one gave him the attention when he almost died moments ago?

Mr. Graves was faster than his thought process, and no, he’s not stupid, he’s the smartest on his course, his mind was clouded by this man- and gave him a glass of water - his glass, as Newt noted - encouraging him to drink it up while soothingly rubbing his back. Those big hands felt so warm, even through the fabric of his sweater and Newt wanted to feel them on other parts of his body, everywhere to be precise, but Mr. Graves withdrew his hand much sooner than Newt would prefer to. When he tried to thank him, Newt stuttered and blushed such a deep shade of red, he didn’t need to see himself in a mirror to feel how hot his cheeks grew. Graves smiled at him, and God, the man was clearly trying to kill Newt, because what he was doing to redhead’s heart?

With a short nod, the man sat back at his table and resumed eating his lunch. Newt buried his face into his papers, trying to focus on them and not on the muscles flexing on Graves’ hands as that brought the spoon to his mouth.

When the Wednesday came around again, Newt sat restless through all of his lessons in hope to catch a glimpse of his crush- oh. He was crushing on Mr. Graves. This... wasn’t so bad, if he thought about it. Half of the university was crushing on him. It felt like crushing on a celebrity or something along those lines, because if he was being serious, he had no chances. Where was Mr. Graves and where was he?

Thinking about how his love life will never actually exist, he walked through the almost empty corridors, leading to the library. He loved to spend his free time in there. The dorms weren’t exactly a place where you can relax, study or read something. At least his roommate was just the silent type as he was, something he could not quite attribute to their neighbors on both sides.

The smell of books, paper, ink and dust drew a fond smile out of him and Newt walked through the endless aisles in search of that book he wanted to check out some time ago. Spotting the needed row, he went directly for the place he saw the book the last time at. Just, it wasn’t here. His smile turned into a pout as his eyes searched for something else to occupy his mind with.

A small chuckle caught his attention and he turned his head in that direction, only to come face to face with the book he looked for. The book moved out of his vision and its place took a familiar handsome face of assistant Graves.

“You wanted to read this one?“ the man asked, his lips quirking up at Newt’s stuttered greeting. Newt nodded frantically, not trusting his mouth anymore and desperately trying to avoid eye-contact.

“You can take it then.“ Graves said, shoving gently the book into Newt’s trembling hands. Newt’s eyes widened and he actually looked up.

“Why?“ was his simple question and it made Graves smile

“Well, it would be rude to not give the student the opportunity to learn, even if it’s...“ his eyes were focused on Newt’s as he murmured, his voice becoming deeper “Captive Prince.“

Newt wanted the floor to crack and swallow him completely. He did want to read it, because he was a bit curious. Especially after seeing how the girls won’t shut up about how hot it is.

He didn’t observe when Graves invaded his personal space and practically shoved his body into the books behind, his hands blocking any ways to escape and his body dangerously pressing onto Newt’s as he whispered

“Newton Scamander, I would like to ask you to stop blushing so cutely whenever you see me, because I swear to God, I’ll do...“ Graves leaned and kissed him hard, and fiercely, passionately even. “this.“ He finished, his eyes devouring Newt’s swollen, wet lips.

Newt watched him through his lashes, his brain empty all of a sudden and lips burning. Maybe his mind was clouded again, but there was one thing he was sure of. He didn’t mind Graves doing that again. And even more. So, Newt just silently claimed Graves’ lips in a sloppy kiss. He was clumsy here as well, but he hoped that Graves will teach him how to do things properly from now on.

Chapter Text

Graves was dead tired. Not your usual type of tired. He simply had a torturing day at MACUSA’s headquarters that day, and he questioned himself: why didn’t Grindelwald use this type of torture instead of his plain Cruciatus? Because Graves was sure, if Grindelwald gave him tons of paperwork and told him that the American wizarding community depended on how he succeeds, then he’d exhaust himself to the point of dying.

And as if to torture him some more, Seraphina ordered him to check up on the junior aurors, who investigated a banal thievery case. Thing which resulted with a caught niffler, an injured junior, and with Graves’ back almost being broken. Because Cooper didn’t know if you point your wand at a desk and Accio it, then it will fly directly in your face. Even if it happened while trying to stop the niffler.

Graves, naturally, being responsible of his subordinates’ well-being, - Mercy Lewis, give him strength - rushed to get the unfortunate idiot from under the desk, which unceremoniously squashed the guy under itself. It was a massive desk, made of hard wood, and it was heavy as hell. He did try to use wandless magic, even a verbal spell with his wand, but as he will find out moments later, the surprises didn’t finish.

The desk was spelled, the magic didn’t work on it. Graves groaned and used all of his physical strength to get the poor guy out. He had at least three broken ribs and his chest was heavily raising and falling. Obviously he had difficulties with his respiration, so by the time the other newbies ran back and forth after the little thief, Graves took the guy in his hands and apparated them directly to MACUSA’s hospital.

Leaving junior auror Cooper in the care of experienced hands, he went back to his office, back to his new prison cell, back to the pile of never ending documents. He shrugged off his coat and just when he wanted to finally sit, to relax a goddamned second, Tina barged in and Graves let out a sigh, rubbing a hand down his face.

“What is it, Goldstein?“ he hissed at her.

“Mr. Graves, sir, Mr. Scamander wants to talk to you about one of his beasts-“

“Tell him to come in.“ he cut her blabbering by raising a hand.

“Sure.“ she disappeared through the door of his office and after a moment of stretched silence - while he still was standing - a hesitant knock on his door made him roll his eyes in annoyance.

“Come in, Scamander.”

“Mr. Graves?“ A ginger head peeked inside and then a full body, wrapped in that blue coat with a case dragged after, made its appearance as well.

“Scamander,“ Graves started carefully, eyeing the slumped shoulders and ducked head of the Brit. He knew it. Somewhere, deep inside, he fucking knew it. “don’t tell me that bloody niffler is yours.“

Newt’s head snapped up “Did you find him? Where is he? You didn’t treat him badly, did you?“

Graves didn’t like that accusatory tone. Like he was evil, and killed or maltreated everyone- every magical beast he crossed paths with.

He clicked his tongue “Scamander, your niffler caused such a disaster, you’ll have to use Reparo over and over for some hours straight.“ Newt ducked his head again, but watched Graves intently from under that messy fringe of his. Graves could feel those eyes burning holes in his chest. “Your niffler was captured, and is safe.“

Newt relaxed visibly “Can I…?“ he asked uncertain.

“Yeah, of course you can. But-“ Graves stopped, eyeing the brown leather case “for Lewis’ sake, Scamander, repair those latches and make sure no one escapes anymore.“

“Oh, s-sure, Mr. Graves, thank you very much.“ Newt beamed, holding onto his case with both hands and ready to dash out any moment.

Graves waved a hand in a dismissing gesture and sat down on his chair.

All the bloody nifflers and spelled desks in the world, what the fuck.

A pain shot right through his spine and he growled. Or yelled. Or started cursing loudly. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, because holy shit, the pain dulled all of other senses, shooting through him whenever he moved a goddamn muscle.

Perhaps he was older than he thought of himself.

Newt hurried over, holding his head in those hands and Graves tried to blink the tears out of his eyes before focusing on the man in front of him.

“Mr. Graves, what happened? Mr. Graves, where hurts?“

Graves swatted his hands in annoyance “Scamander,“ he hissed and groaned as another wave of hellish pain washed over him “fuck you.“

He paid no attention to Newt’s baffled look, and continued cursing “You, your bloody niffler, Picquery, Cooper - that imbecile, the freaking spelled desk and my age. Fuck everything.“ he finished and tried to stand up, only to fall back into his chair and howl in pain, this time he was sure.

“Mr. Graves.“

Probably Scamander didn’t understand just how much he suffered, probably he wanted to make him suffer some more-

“Let’s get you home and I’ll take care of… everything.“ Newt said, and when Graves looked at him, glared at him, his glare was met with nothing but determination.

Scamander was determined to kill him completely.

Newt helped him up and Accio’ed his case before grabbing firmly onto his hand.

“Lead the way, Mr. Graves.“ Newt told him and Graves pondered for a moment there, that it was much better to die at home, on his comfortable bed than in this office, in this gigantic pile of papers.

Graves apparated both of them into his appartment and supported himself off a wall. Newt propped him up and dragged into his bedroom. Graves was kind of taken aback by the strength in those hands.

Newt put him carefully on the bed and easing himself out of his coat, vest and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he demanded “Take off your clothes, Mr. Graves.“

Graves sputtered and looked up at him as if Newt grew another head. What the fuck, Scamander?

“Scamander, if you want to kill me, I prefer to die clothed, thank you very much.“

“W-what?“ Newt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise “What made you think so, h-how even-?“

“I don’t know.“ Graves said and winced. His body surely wanted him dead, for example.”Because we caught your niffler and all that.“

“That little bugger deserved to be caught, I wanted to catch him myself, but you were faster, I suppose.” Newt explained as his hand worked on Graves’ vest and only when he took it off and started unbuttoning Graves’ shirt, that snapped out of his haze.

“Scamander, what the hell. I’m capable of undressing myself.“ he said and tried to shrug off his shirt. Another wave of pain abused the muscles of his back. He shuddered and grimaced at the feeling.

“Mr. Graves, Percival, please.“ Newt said softly “Let me take care of it. Okay?“

Graves nodded absentminded, and let Newt push him gently onto his bed.

“I’ll be right back in a minute.“ Graves heard Newt say through the increasing pulse beating in his ears. The pain was insufferable. Not as that one caused by the Cruciatus curse, obviously, but really close.

In what seemed to be like eternity, - in fact only two or so minutes - Newt was back and holding a lot of small colorful bottles. He made Graves lie on his stomach, helping him to flip carefully, then poured something on Graves back and after that, Graves legit thought he died, because this was heaven, for sure.

The pain slowly  was reduced and Graves could finally breathe properly and not suffocate because of it. He felt Newt’s hands roaming all over his back, rubbing oils into his skin, massaging his sore muscles using just the right amount of pressure.

Another bottle opened and the room was filled with a sweet scent. Graves found himself humming in contentment as his limbs became all mushy.

Newt chuckled and it was such a pretty sound, Graves wanted to hear more of it.

“These were a gift from a tribe in South Africa.“ A thumb traced up and down Graves’ vertebral column “They were really grateful when I treated their chimaera-” Newt stopped himself abruptly and slapped himself mentally for mentioning such a highly illegal and dangerous beast in the presence of an auror, the director of Magical Security himself.

But Graves didn’t really catch that, or better said, didn’t even want to, because thinking of something else while having those hands on him, was a crime itself.

Newt kept rubbing and massaging and Graves lost himself in sensations completely. He drifted off to sleep in the middle of it.

He woke up in the morning to a ginger head pressed closely to his side and Newt Scamander wrapped in a blanket next to him, on his bed, snoring lightly and mumbling something in his sleep.

What did Scamander do in his apartment? Hopefully, he was dressed under his own blanket, because if not, that meant- Graves carefully lifted the blanket off him and gaped. Oh, no.

Newt stirred and opened an eye to look at him. Graves stopped moving.

“Morning, Percival.“

P-Percival??? Since when???

“How is your back? Does it hurt?“

Bloody hell. He wasn’t drunk the previous day, was he?

“N-no.“ Graves stuttered. “Scamander, I mean, Newt.“ he started, clearing his throat. “Did we…?“ he said and gestured suggestively between them.

Newt’s reaction was immediate. His blush expanded up to the tips of his ears and down to his neck.

“O-of course n-not!“ Newt mumbled, looking away, hiding his eyes “Your back. You hurt your back and I gave you a massage.“

Graves’ eyebrow shot up at that “But how the hell I ended up naked then?“

“Well,“ Newt chewed on his bottom lip “it didn’t limit only to your back?“

“I just hope you didn’t massage my…“ Graves hid his face in an open palm and sighed heavily.

“No, but that can be fixed!“ Completely misunderstanding his words, Newt reached to tug at Graves’ blanket. Holy fuck.

Graves looked up, catching the blanket and threw his pillow at him.

“Get the fuck out, Scamander!“

Chapter Text

Newt was really puzzled when his neighbor, the grumpy looking office worker Percival Graves, shoved one day a plate of freshly baked cookies into his hands when he was fumbling with the keys to open the door to his apartment.

“Uh, I made some, to relieve stress. So, here you go.“

Newt barely met his eyes and muttered a silent “Thank you.“

It was really weird to imagine Mr. Graves baking cookies, or baking at all. Newt couldn’t even picture it. But the reminder of that being true was in front of him and it smelled simply amazing.

“You’re welcome, I guess.“ Graves replied and before Newt could say something more, he opened the door of his apartment and walked in, closing the door behind.

Newt stared at it for a moment, then to the plate in his hands. A small smile curled his lips up and he entered his own apartment.

The cookies didn’t only smell heavenly and look appetizing, they were the most delicious cookies Newt ate in his life. Did Graves study how to bake goods? Because those weren’t ordinary homemade cookies.

Newt munched happily on them, sipping tea and it just made him happy and all warm, fuzzy inside, he thought he should somehow return the favor.

Except Graves didn’t really give him any occasions to do so. The man was practically never at home whenever Newt came by.

When Newt actually had the chance to see him again, the man looked extremely tired, but blissfully smiled at him when giving another plate, full of cookies and even some cupcakes. Newt noticed that the plate was bigger than the last time.

“Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Graves.“ Newt looked up and shyly ducked his head after a brief eye-contact with the man. “I guess you had a stressing week?“

Graves zoned out for a moment and then snapped out of whatever he had in his mind.

“Ah, yes. Never mind that. Hope you’ll like them.“ He said softly and again, not quite waiting for an answer, entered his apartment.

“Those were very delicious, Mr. Graves!“ Newt raised his voice a bit, hoping that Graves will hear him and it will brighten his mood.

The next time Graves shoved cookies and cupcakes, and some other baked goods in his hands, Newt had to grab the basket with both arms, because it was very heavy. A whole basket. There were enough cookies to feed ten or more people. Newt looked from under his fringe at the man and winced.

Graves was pale, dark circles under his eyes were contrasting on the skin of his face and he looked like he didn’t eat or sleep properly in weeks. Probably that was true, if the way his body swayed dangerously when he walked back to his apartment, as always not waiting for a response from Newt, told about something.

Newt couldn’t let the man to himself even for a minute longer. He caught the closing door and when Graves turned his head around, slowly, tiredly even, Newt propped the basket and offered a full smile.

“Mr. Graves. Let’s have some tea together.“

Graves seemed to spring a bit to life at that and he nodded to Newt’s offer, a small smile making its way on his lips when Newt beckoned him into his apartment.

They had lunch, despite Graves’ protesting, him saying that he wasn’t hungry and Newt pouting at him until he actually ate the soup. He looked a bit healthier, a bit of color creeping into his skin as they sat together and munched on the cookies he baked, sipping the relaxing herbal tea Newt made.

“They want to promote me and I’m stressed with the amount of work and responsibilities that comes with the new rank.“ Graves confessed and Newt hummed in response. “I guess I take it way too seriously. Gosh, I’m forty and I’m behaving like a student before exams.“ Graves chuckled, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I think,“ Newt said and smiled softly, locking eyes with Graves and not taking them away, like he usually did “it’s not necessary to worry about something like that.“ He put the cup down on the table and reached out a hand, putting it atop of Graves’ one “I have a philosophy.“ Newt continued, looking at their hands, his smile widening when Graves didn’t withdraw his hand “Worrying means you suffer twice, Percival.“

Chapter Text

Newt was keeping himself under control for way too long to forget how it actually feels to lose it.

His vision darkens, he’s suffocating, there’s a pulse beating loudly in his eardrums, the thirst becomes unbearable. And the cause, the cause he feels like a beast himself is now talking in front of all these people in the meeting.

The real Percival Graves has a heavenly sweet smell, nothing like the heavy musk Newt smelled on Grindelwald. Newt finds himself being addicted to that smell. He fights off his instincts, the want to have a taste for more than a month after meeting the man. But lately, Percival’s smell drives him insane, he just can’t stand in the same room with the man for more than half of hour. The meeting already goes on for more than an hour, have mercy on his soul.

It’s pretty understandable that he actually can’t contain it in anymore. He frees the beast, lets it act on the instincts he fought just a while back. Maybe, he will regret it later, but he doesn’t regret anything at the very moment.

Newt stands up and uses his unnatural speed to appear in front of Percival. That yelps in surprise, everyone in the room goes silent and they’re shocked beyond limit. Obviously everyone is shocked, they didn’t know about his little secret- no one knew, he could keep it down until now, dammit.

Newt is unnaturally strong as well, so it’s not a problem for him to manhandle Percival over the desk behind him with a single hand. Percival is stunned, Newt sees it in his widened eyes. He hovers over Percival, traps him there and leans in.

Newt nuzzles Percival’s neck, feels the pulse beneath the warm skin, hears how the blood runs through his veins. He inhales Percival’s sweet scent once again before his fangs pierce through that smooth skin and his mouth is flooded with hot sweetness. Percival lets out a cry, but that is just another background noise for Newt. He’s thirsty. The thirst is the only thing dominating within him now. He gulps down greedily, a low purr rumbling in his chest. The beast inside him calms, the vision goes back to normal, and the realization comes with the taste of iron on his tongue. But he can’t stop.

Percival stopped fighting him off a while ago and now, Newt just feels how that clings onto Newt’s coat, while soft gasps and moans are filling Newt’s ears.

It’s clear that Percival tries his best to bite those down, to compose himself, but he’s failing greatly at that, and Newt can only smirk. He lets go of a dazed, looking-like-he-was-thoroughly-fucked Percival and licks the blood off his lips.

Everyone is still stunned, Picquery tries to say something, but continues to stumble over her words. Percival doesn’t help anyone to regain their attention on the actual meeting when he kisses Newt the next moment. Rough and needy. And he actually can taste himself on Newt’s tongue not in the way he thought many times about.

Chapter Text

Percival was in process of pulling his car - a black chic Chevrolet Impala - into his parking garage, only to find it occupied. Again. He didn’t need to even look at the car to know who did it. Plus, he’d suffered enough eye-cancer looking at that excuse of a car for five minutes the first time it happened.

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t have anything against the owner or the car itself - he would burn it if he could though - and he could completely understand if they mistook things once or twice, but this happened already for five times and Percival was ready to pull out his hair and scream in frustration.

He left the car at the garage entrance, hopping out of the driver’s seat with a deep scowl on his face. He had fucking enough. The owner, whoever him or her was, will have to take some scolding and cuffs on their nape, because this surely had to be someone young and frivolous.

Determined, Percival went to their porter and promptly asked the old man who is the owner of that orange Honda, parked in his garage, and the old man just shrugged at him- What the heck.

“Oh,“ the man said, tapping thoughtfully his chin “that’s probably Scamander’s brother.“

Scamander? Theseus Scamander? Percival certainly knew Theseus, they were playing billiards on weekends, but goddammit, the dude never mentioned he had a brother.

Without any further ado, he went directly to the elevator, getting in and pushing the button to his floor- their floor to be precise, since they were living practically next door. Maybe that made Theseus’ brother think he can just invade their neighbor’s garage? That was no fucking excuse, and Percival would get the dude on his knees apologizing- okay, that was a bit too extreme. He coughed into his fist and knocked to Theseus’ door.

“Comin’!“ was heard from the other side of the door, and it was certainly not Theseus, because this voice was nicer, softer, melodious even. Wait. Did he just describe a guy’s voice as melodious? Percival shook his head. He should definitely stop spending so much time with Goldstein sisters and Seraphina. He was becoming poetic, for god’s sake.

The door swung open and Percival was greeted by a familiar - but also not familiar - freckled face, ginger hair, curls to be precise, blue eyes - blue like the clear summer sky - god, definitely less time spending in women’s company - which made just brief contact with his before looking at his tie instead - was his tie that entertaining?

“Umm, Theseus isn’t at home right now, if you needed him.“ The guy said and ducked his head. And this was Theseus’ brother? Fucking unbelievable.

Percival cleared his throat, trying to get those beautiful eyes to look into his again, unsuccessfully though. “I actually needed to talk to you,“ Percival made a hand gesture to the guy.

At that, the guy raised his head a bit, only to look back down again “Newt.“ He said, looking somewhere over Percival’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Newt.“ Percival repeated and loved the sound of this name on his tongue. “I’m Percival, by the way, and I live next door.“

Newt’s head snapped up immediately and he smiled broadly at Percival, making him wonder what he did to deserve such a beauty of smile directed only at him-

“So, you’re that friend Theseus keeps telling me silly stories about?“

Wait a fucking second. What exactly Theseus told this beauty about him? Percival paled, thinking about their adventures on weekends with Theseus. Only not the drunken striptease on a bar table, please, only not that-

“Anyway, Percival.“ Newt said, ushering him to enter their apartment. “Take a seat first.“ He practically pushed a still-praying-in-his-mind Percival onto the couch. “Tea? Coffee?“ Newt offered politely.

“Coffee, please.“ Percival mumbled dumbly, looking after Newt, in his silly large sweater, which did nothing to cover one of his freckled shoulders and equally silly sweatpants, low on his hips. Why, just why.

Newt strolled into the room with two mugs after five or so minutes, handling Percival his and sipping happily from his own.

“So, you wanted to talk about something I guess?“ Newt watched him from under his messy curly fringe and fluttering his long lashes, and Percival almost lost it.

“I, um, yes.“ Percival stuttered, taking a sip from his coffee. Ah, it was definitely good. But why did he came here in the first place? His eyes widened, because holy shit, he forgot why he came.

Newt looked expectantly at him and he watched him back, at his blue eyes and ginger hair- Stop. Orange fucking Honda!

“Your car, Newt.“ Percival said, putting the mug on the coffee table in front of him. “It’s in my parking garage for the fifth time and I don’t know if I should just burn it down because you do it constantly or because it deserves to be burned.“

Suddenly Percival was angry and frustrated, both at Newt and himself, because he easily got distracted. Newt didn’t say a thing, but his lips turned down in a scowl.

“I’m sorry.“ Percival said, his anger dissipating the same way it appeared. He didn’t like that scowl on Newt’s face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-“

Newt smiled at him weakly, not the way he would liked to, but still it was better than that scowl, and raised a hand up, silencing him “It’s okay. I got it. I won’t do that again, and I’m sorry, Mr. Graves.“

Mr. Graves? Nope, Newt, you can call him Percival, even Percy-

He probably had that kicked puppy face he made whenever he’s sad, because Newt’s face softened and his smile became wider.

“Alright, Percival, I’m forgiving you, but you’re not insulting my car ever again.“

“Okay.“ He said, but was internally cringing because, shitty wheels, the fucking orange Honda will chase him in his nightmares from now on. With an angry Theseus on the driver’s seat, because Percival was sure that his friend won’t like the prospect of him hitting on his brother.

Chapter Text

The blow comes unexpectedly fast, and Newt feels how his mouth is filled with something disgusting, which tastes like iron, and he wants to throw up. The patch of skin just at his stomach level begins to sting and colors with an angry red. There’s no much time before it will start to turn purple.


The blood floods out of his mouth as he coughs up and drips down his chin. His limbs, chained to the wall, tremble under the pressure of his own body weight. He tiredly raises his head, eyes focusing on Graves’ tie as that takes out of his breast pocket a handkerchief and reaches to wipe at Newt’s face.


Newt instinctively turns away, trying to escape the touch and squeezes his eyelids shut. He feels fingers grasping harshly at his chin and his head is turned forcibly back. Newt opens his eyes, blinking rapidly the tears from his lashes.


Graves looks into his eyes as his hand works to wipe the blood from his chin.


“I think you look pretty cute with a bloody lip. Don’t make me do it again.” He says and stops when there are only Newt’s lips covered with the sticky deep red liquid.


Graves drops the handkerchief and tangles his fingers in Newt’s curls. He yanks Newt’s head back and Newt whimpers, hissing through gritted teeth. He’s used to such harsh attitude, he expects only it from Graves - expected only it. So, when Graves leans so close they breathe the same air, when he brushes his lips against Newt’s jaw, then moves them upper and seals on Newt’s, kissing him fiercely - Newt can only stand here, shocked.


A moment into the kiss and Newt doesn’t know what he wants: to draw back or to lean closer. The iron taste is still in his mouth and he’s sure Graves feels it too, because he licks his way inside, exploring it with fervor. Newt moans into the kiss making Graves hum lowly in response.


It feels wrong, but it also feels so good, Newt barely can think at all.


Eventually, Graves withdraws and Newt opens his eyes halfway only to see how the man licks Newt’s blood off his own lips and smiles darkly at him.


“Such a pretty face, it’d be a shame to mess it up.” He says and grips at Newt’s hair again. “So, you better start talking, Mr. Scamander.“

Chapter Text

"No, I don’t wanna fall in love… with you”


Newt smiled at him again and Percival looked away as his heartbeat went astray. It happened a lot lately. These short glances, small smiles directed at him and him only, occasional touches, which left Percival breathless…


Seeing Newt for the first time was like witnessing something extraordinaire. His eyes were glinting like a pair of diamonds: so blue, so pure, so strong. The feeling of his arms wrapping protectively around Percival’s shaky frame was warm and safe, so very much like home. His auburn curls were so soft and smelling of grass, something spicy and so nicely tickling Percival’s cheek as Newt helped him up, allowing Percival to lean onto him as they walked out of that dark place Grindelwald held him prisoner in.


Percival never dreamed about meeting someone like Newt: so passionate about what he loved, so enchantingly brave and fearless in front of danger, so caring of those he had warmed up to. His very presence changed the people around him, even if he tended to say that “I annoy people, Mr. Graves.“


When Newt was around, Percival’s world, painted in dark monotonous shades of gray suddenly got splattered by different colors he didn’t even know the names of. Suddenly, the sun shone brighter, and warmed him more. The sound of rain became soothing and the smell of flowers - pleasurable.


Percival’s life became worth living because he had Newt there, at the distance of an outstretched hand, and he knew, he knew that he had to stop before it turned into something chaotic and ugly. Because nobody truly loves no one.


He needed Newt to make him feel safe and free of Grindelwald’s shadow. Percival tried to convince himself of that so many times, but whenever his eyes met Newt’s, saw that shy, awkward smile those lips formed, Percival’s thoughts dissipated and he just dumbly stared back, looking like a complete fool in love.


Because, oh, he was. He was so in love with this magnificent person, beautiful man, utterly perfect human being.


“I never felt like this before.“ Newt murmured, almost inaudibly as they stood there, with their fingers intertwined, trying to avoid each other’s eyes.


Percival forgot how to talk, forgot how to breathe when he risked a glance at the man. Newt tried to cover with his other hand either the blush or the wetness on his freckled cheeks, while his fingers dug into Percival’s knuckles.


What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Newt didn’t understand humans like, at all.

Why Mr. Graves was going all crazy about a little incident and on top of everything, kept frying Newt’s brain as if he was at fault of every thing happening around them, was a mystery for the magizoologist.

So, what if Newt broke another set of unbreakable - not so very - laws? The erumpent was back in his case, the damage was done, yes, but still, Mr. Graves had at least to be happy that it won’t cause any more, right?

“So, what are we going to do with two frightened rhinoceroses set loose in New York? You can’t obliviate animals! Or can you?“ Graves paced around a tree in Central Park, the crime scene, as he referred to it earlier, hands in pockets and turning his glare at Newt from time to time- well, when he wasn’t glaring at the tree, or his shoes.

Newt opened his mouth to respond, but got interrupted for the fifth time in the last three minutes, so he just rolled his eyes again.

“But firstly we have to find them, right, Scamander?“ Graves stopped in front of him and pointed his chin at Newt accusingly “Do you know how to find those at least?“ His brows furrowed, deepening his scowl and Newt found himself wondering how looks the relaxed face of director Graves, because it happened that around Newt he never was relaxed. Like never.

Always waiting for something to happen, for something to pop out, for chasing, for repairing, for obliviating, because Newt is Newt. And Newt is sorry for that, just Mr. Graves rarely appreciated his sincere apologies. As at the very moment, for example.

“I’m sorry-“

“I swear, Scamander, if you say that word again, I’ll- I’ll-“

Newt was silent, because Graves already didn’t know how to threaten him anymore. Because Graves wasn’t cruel enough to take his case, or even to punch him in the face, even if Newt knew he deserved it sometimes.

After some moments of silence and deep breathing, Graves seemed to calm a bit down and just then, Newt decided it’s time to make the director relax. Graves didn’t relax.

“Well, I know how to find them, but I guess we’ll have to use Emily’s help.“

“Oh, no-“ Graves closed his eyes and groaned “fuck, Scamander, no! We’re not getting your erumpent out to chase those two!“ He made that face again, the face of a man wondering just what the fuck, drawing his eyebrows together as two sides of triangle “You want to scare them even more?“

“Come on, Mr. Graves. Your complaining helps the situation, like, not at all.“

A scandalized gasp left Graves’ lips.

“Complaining? You call it complaining?“ Graves said, fixing Newt with another glare. Did he even stop glaring? No, he didn’t. “I’m gonna die young and you’ll be the death of me!“

Newt pouted. Why was it so hard with Mr. Graves?

“You’re hardly young-“

“Shut up!“

Graves’ flushed cheeks were either because of the embarrassment or the blood pressure increasing dangerously fast, and Newt, Newt didn’t want to wreck Graves’ nerves more than he already did, so he just pursed his lips and did what he was supposed to.

He opened his case only to hear more screaming, cursing and complaining from the stoic director of Magical Security. And it made him smile, because only Newt was able to pull such emotions from Graves.

Chapter Text

Newt gasps. He put the glasses on the edge of his table, so where they disappeared again? The niffler couldn't escape this time, Newt used a new spell, the little thief couldn't slip away from the case! B-but if it wasn't Niffly, then who on earth would need to steal his glasses? He's practically half-blind without them.

He gets up from the chair and roams his hands all over the table's surface, his vision blurry. Pencils, quill, parchment - he frowns - ink bottle! He grasps it in time before it spills over his notes, because until he doesn't find his glasses, it's dangerous even to use such a simple spell as Scourgify. He can't find the familiar metallic frame on his table, so he kneels down, under the table, because no one can actually exclude the fact that they fell under it, right?

He squints and frowns at the floor as if it offended him somehow. Hands search frantically, and when they don't find anything, Newt huffs in frustration. And how he was supposed to finish his manuscript now? He just began to scribble down about the mating of erumpents, when his eyes itched and he just had to take off the glasses to rub at them. And now, they disappeared. Okay, maybe he did fall asleep for a little while, but that didn't change the actual fact that his glasses had to be where he left them.

The door to his room opens and Newt jumps, banging his head on the table. He winces and tries to rub at his head. Just why when it rains, it freaking pours?

He hears hurried footsteps as he tries to stand up. Someone scoops him up by elbow, someone who has a very familiar smell, of aftershave, cologne and coffee.

"M-Mr. Graves?" Newt squawks and he is squinting again, uselessly, as everything he can see is a blur of black, gray and creamy.

He hears a sigh and then something is pushed up his nose and he can see again. The blurry image clears and he sees Percival Graves, with amusement in those dark brown, tender eyes, and a small smile quirking up those thin lips. Newt blinks at him, brings his hands to the glasses Graves gave him and oh. Those aren't his glasses. The frame isn't metallic, and it's thicker than of the ones he wears. Graves notices his confused frown and chuckles, a pleasant sound for Newt's ears.

"Those are mine." He simply says and Newt gapes at him.

"You wear-?"

"Glasses?" Graves hums, and Newt notices just how close he is. "Yes," Graves states, without waiting for Newt to reply "but not always. Mostly when I have to read."

Newt's lips form a silent Oh of understanding. Then he's all giddy and awkward smiles.

"So, we're both half-blind I suppose." He giggles and looks at Graves, who just keeps increasing in size. What- when did he come this close?

"They suit you." Graves murmurs and it would be inaudible if he wasn't so close, dammit. Newt's brain keeps frying itself and he flushes a dark shade of red, but doesn't back either. He waits for something, he doesn't even know what he's waiting for.

When Graves kisses him, softly, and sighs against his lips when Newt kisses back, Newt knows what he was waiting for. Then Graves' tongue ravishes his mouth with fervor, as if he wants to actually eat Newt, and Newt finds his mind blown up by the intensity of everything. He blinks slowly and breathes shallowly, looking at Graves who smiles at him. He fixes the glasses back into their normal position, and his fingers linger on Newt's cheek.

"Keep them." Graves says, looking into his eyes and Newt cannot look away "As I said, they suit you."

Newt cheeks color further "B-but how about you?"

Graves chuckles and withdraws his hand, and Newt wants it back on him "I have more than just one pair."

"Oh, thank you." Newt replies and his fingers touch the frame of his new glasses, glasses Graves gave him. He smiles.

"You're welcome," Graves turns to leave and adds when he's half-way out of the room, looking over his shoulder at a still flustered Newt "and come down, dinner's ready."

Newt watches him go and can't help but notice something shiny, like a golden frame of glasses peeking out of Graves' pocket. He giggles.

Niffly didn't get out after all.



Percival fumbles with Newt's old glasses for a whole minute. Then he steps in front of his mirror, putting them on.

Hmm. Doesn't look... bad.

Chapter Text

Percival had had enough. Enough of everything. Comforting words, glances, touches. He was never fond of being touched to begin with. All of those assuring hands patting his shoulders, gripping his wrist, sliding down his shoulder blades in a soothing manner; all of the honeyed words spoken in that convincing tone; all of these things which made him feel more pathetic than he already was, he despised them with all he had.


Boiling anger clouded his mind when Goldstein watched him with those eyes filled with sort of mock-sympathy for the umpteenth time that week. He did not need her sympathy, he did not need anyone’s sympathy. Neither their words of encouragement.


“You can do it, director!“ Goldstein’s voice, accompanied by dozen of his aurors were reverberating in his mind and Percival grimaced at his hands.


“Percival, you’re a strong man, you can pull through.“ Picquery’s usually commanding tone softened as she ran her fingers through his grown hair.


He glared down at his legs and breathed noisily, flaring his nostrils.


“Mr. Graves.“ Scamander sounded somehow upset, but then he smiled “You must not give up. I would very much like to show you my case one day.“


Scamander’s constant chatter about his creatures and adventures he had gone through across the globe made Percival fix his attention on something else beside the numbness in his body, and for that and only that, Percival was thankful to this stranger.


Goldstein looked up at him from the plate she peeled apples in and gave him that crooked, forced grin of hers. Percival moved his eyes from the mask his subordinate put on whenever she visited him at hospital. Dark brown eyes settled on the blooming branch of a cherry tree in the frame of his room’s large window.


“I don’t need you.” Percival said and those words were the first he croaked in months. “I don’t need any of you.”


Sounds of clattered plate and knife resounded in his head way louder than it should and he slowly turned his attention back to Goldstein.


Expectant of another polite bow masking pity and maybe even anger, Percival glared at her. Goldstein’s eyes were comically wide for a longer moment than they should have - she always was slow on catching up with things from the first attempt. But then, she just choked on a sob as tears started rolling down her cheeks like a broken dam.


“Director.“ Goldstein sniffled and clutched his wrist - the touch still unwanted, but not as disgusting as before. Percival would pry her hand off if he could. But there was no need to do so anymore, because she stood up abruptly and ran off out of his room with that stubbornly determined face she made when one of her cases went into a dead end.


Three minutest later, his room was packed full with mediwizards and nurses. He merely rolled his eyes tiredly and didn’t make another sound.


Scamander dropped by the next day and during another story of his numerous rescue operations, he stopped talking and fixed Percival with a look that Percival couldn’t quite place. At Percival’s raised eyebrow, the magizoologist drew his chair closer to Percival’s bed and put his palm on Percival’s motionless one, massaging it gently.


“You know, Mr. Graves,“ the Brit began, eyes fixing on Percival’s for once and smiling the tinniest bit “even if you need no one,“ his smile widened and Percival could feel magic at the tips of Scamander’s fingers, pricking at his skin and he blinked, his eyes flickering  between their hands and Scamander’s blue eyes “we need you.“ Scamander muttered and the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled because of the smile his facial muscles pulled.


Warmth spread through his entire body, generated by the spot the magizoologist was touching him at. It came all, rushing over him ruthlessly, overwhelmingly .


He wasn’t strong.


He could not live up to their expectations.


He was useless, damaged, unworthy-


And yet, they still needed him.

Chapter Text

Going on raids with MACUSA aurors became sort of duty for Newt if the case involved trafficked beasts. When there were times he saved, there were also times when he lost.


Dropping to his knees, fresh, warm blood damping his trousers and smearing all over his palms as he closed the small distance on all fours, horror on his face and pulse beating loudly in his eardrums. He did not make it. He failed to save another innocent life.


The body of what once was a majestic unicorn lied there, motionless, covered in its silvery blood. Eyes opened wide, dead, reflecting the shaking figure of magizoologist as that leaned over the creature.


A crack of apparition was more of a background noise for the man reaching for the animal, as well as the words spoken by the person who apparated.


“We’ve caught all of them, Newt-“ Percival said enthusiastically, but stopped immediately when he saw the man kneeling on the floor in a lake of silvery liquid. He rushed to Newt’s side, fear for other’s well-being bubbling in his chest.


“Nothing matters anymore.” Newt whispered, clutching the lifeless body to his chest, hands trembling violently as he tried to gather unicorn’s tail.


Percival’s mouth clamped shut. He did not know what to say and he was sure there were no words he could use to soothe the magizoologist’s pain, or to bring the creature back to life.


Newt’s quiet sobs filled the silence and Percival couldn’t stand the sound. He may be cruel for thinking so, but Newt’s tears were hurting him much more than the death of a beast. Percival dropped down beside him, and tugged the shaking man into his embrace.


Newt went limp in his arms, head turned and eyes staring unfocused at the dead creature as Percival rocked him back and forth, pressing his lips soothingly atop of Newt’s head.


“Everything matters, Newt, you matter.“

Chapter Text

Newt Scamander, basically had no social life. He was really bad at interacting with his kind - humans - but his body had needs, and he was not perverted enough to involve other kind - who the fuck was in their right mind and doing this - and his right hand plus fingers did not satisfy him anymore. He wanted to try something new - new sensations as one would say.

He found himself in a sex shop two days later, after the drunk revelations involving Goldstein sisters and two bottles of wine. Queenie, being the bolder and maybe more experienced, told him where to look for the sensations he so deeply craved.

Newt never felt more uncomfortable as he did at the very moment, in front of a showcase which displayed a very big variety of toys, for various usage. The shop itself wasn’t that big, but the stock was quite impressive.

So, Newt stood there, eyes roaming and brain processing how exactly some toys would be used and the whole picture his imagination brought made his face burn with shame.

All of this, he thought shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, isn’t my thing. He turned around, ready to leave, to run away, because he wasn’t brave enough to even try, but stopped when he almost bumped into someone.

It was a man, if the tag with name Percival on his t-shirt told about something.

“Oh, sir, “ the voice, low and deep and smooth like fucking silk made Newt snap his head up and he groaned internally, because why the fuck the expression of ‘sex on two legs’ had to be taken so literally and in such a place to begin with? “I thought you need help.“

Yeah, he needs help. He needs help to knock you out and drag in his bed, to tie you up and fuck himself on your dick until he’s too fucked to even think.

Percival snapped his fingers in front of him and Newt realized he zoned out for a moment there. He ducked his head, hiding his eyes.

“I. Um, no. I thought about leaving-” Newt stuttered. It was pretty embarrassing, okay? His face burned hot and he made a move to get past the man, to get out of this place. He shouldn’t have listened to Queenie after all.

“Are you feeling okay?“ Percival’s voice sounded genuinely worried. Now, Newt didn’t intend to make anyone worry about him.

There’s nothing to worry about, Percival - the walking sin - maybe except for Newt wanting to bang you using at least half of the toys put there, on display.

The thoughts set Newt’s cheeks aflame and he really thought for a moment that actually passing out now would be a gift, because holy fuck, Scamander, what kind of vulgarities go through your mind, get a hold of yourself and think with your brain, instead of dick.

“Mhm, yes.“ Newt mumbled looking at Percival’s shoulder instead of meeting man’s eyes “I’m fine.“

“Okay,“ Percival exhaled “good.“ He stepped aside, letting Newt slip past him.

However, he called after and his words knocked the air out of Newt’s lungs.

“See you next time, sir. I hope you will feel less uncomfortable then.“

Newt couldn’t believe his ears. Just how much the man observed him to deduce that?

He managed to offer the shop worker a small, crooked smile and a short wave.

Newt eventually came back to the sex shop, but now, with an entirely different purpose.

Chapter Text

“Director Graves,“ Seraphina waltzes in his office like she’s owning the damn place, which isn’t entirely wrong, but still “that was completely unnecessary.“ She fixes him with the stare. He already loves where this conversation goes to.

“Was it?“ Percival says, avoiding her eyes and busying himself with the papers on his desk. Seraphina knows he doesn’t want to discuss the matter, but she’ll make him listen anyway, so  Percival braces himself for the good old scolding.

“Percival.“ Her tone is softer, but there still is sternness in the way she gives him a piece of her mind. “It was completely unnecessary to call for a duel with the new British ambassador.“ He met her gaze, knowing eyes boring into his. “I heard, he was rather“ She slightly grimaced before continuing “rude to our consultant magizoologist, but that surely didn’t mean you have to” The corner of her lips twitched into a smirk “punch him square in the face - a very unattractive one, I must add - and to call him for a duel.”

“Sera, come on, you were here, you heard what he called Scamander.“

“Yes, I did, and I would defend him too, if I were in your place.“ At Percival’s surprised face, she snorted. “Of course I would. My employees go first. But, I’m not in your place, and seriously, Percival, who in their right mind would duel you? You won’t leave the guy any chances, and I don’t want problems with the British Ministry.”

Oh, so this is the root of all this boring monologue. Of course she wouldn’t want problems, not after Grindelwald. They need to cooperate, to find comrades in every country. British Ministry of Magic is no exception.

Politics never interested Percival, but he would do as Seraphina says most of the times. Except this one, he couldn’t just overlook or pass by as if he didn’t hear or see a thing. It’s important to protect and show your dedication to the one you deeply care for, and so happened that Scamander is that person.

“It’s late to change anything, Sera.“ Percival says, his eyes meeting her with no hesitation “He accepted the challenge. Tomorrow, we will duel and nothing’s gonna change that.“

“I know,“ She rolls her eyes at him in exasperation “that’s why I’m here.“ He raised a thick eyebrow in question. “To tell you to take it easy. We don’t need a war with the Brits, because of another two Brits.“

“I really can’t promise anything.“ Percival shrugged and grinned at her annoyed huff. He’s going to have fun hexing the bastard, and more importantly, no one will stop him.


The dueling arena at MACUSA is really impressive and it also has a lot of space for those who find watching wizards dueling each other entertaining. Of course, Percival couldn’t blame them for being excited, after all, one of the duelists is the director of Magical Security himself. Nearly half of MACUSA came to see the show and he isn’t going to disappoint them, Seraphina’s words be damned.

Walking to his corner, Percival takes off his coat and jacket, leaving these into the waiting hands of Goldstein. Beside her, Scamander nervously throws him short glances and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Percival would groan externally, if he could be sure it won’t come out obscenely, but as he doesn’t trust his vocal cords, he does it internally, and not without adding some other obscenities to complete the picture in his mind.

“Mr. Graves, I-“ Scamander’s voice makes him focus on the man “You shouldn’t, really. I am used to being called things. It’s not the first time, nor the last, so you don’t have to-“

“Shh.“ Percival shushes and approaches the man, his fingers straightening the straps on his thigh, the wand tucked in its sheath. He flexes his fingers and observes how Scamander’s blue eyes follow their movement. “Now, Newt.“ At the mention of his name, the bright eyes snap up and look into his without breaking the contact. Percival loves his eyes, because there are always genuine emotions pictured in them. There’s surprise and slight confusion in Newt’s eyes and they still as Percival approaches him further. “I will not allow anyone to say such things to you or about you anymore, so you shouldn’t get used to such attitude.“

The surprise and confusion grow, but a new emotion slips on Newt’s face. It’s happiness and it makes Newt’s eyes sparkle even more beautifully. Percival smiles at him, and tries to fool around.

“Don't I get a kiss for luck?” He says, the humor clear in his tone. “It's kind of tradition, right?“

He expects a smile or maybe even a short laugh in response, a friendly pat on the back, a good luck charm without any words. Or a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently in silent gratitude. What Percival never expected is warm, plush lips brushing against his cheek and lingering there a tad bit longer than should to be considered a joke.

Then Newt whispers silently a promise of more, if he wins the duel, and Percival never felt this motivated to win before.

Chapter Text

Newt goes home that day and fantasizes, lets his imagination run wild and do things on its own. He stopped it while inside the shop, in front of Percival, but now, when he is alone, he gives it freedom.

He always feels more confident in his bedroom, on his bed. His head is pressed against the pillow as he touches his half-hard erection through the fabric of his jeans. Blue, hazed eyes close, long ginger eyelashes fluttering on the freckled cheeks, full lips purse into a thin line and a little frown furrows his brows.

Newt concentrates on the images his imagination brings up so vividly, like he actually saw them before, images of the sex shop worker, his ridiculously big and strong hands, broad shoulders, round ass and handsome face. And the voice.

Newt’s hands work on getting his cock out of his pants and underwear with practiced easiness. He gives it two slow pumps, and bites his lip when it twitches under his fingers.

In his fantasy, Percival pins him against the wall of his bedroom, using those strong muscled hands to trap him there and looks at him as if Newt is his meal. Newt breathes in sharply, the fingers around his erection tighten their hold and his toes dig into the softness of his blanket. Percival leans in so close Newt can see the few golden strikes in his dark brown irises, and whispers lowly, a smirk on his lips.

“Fuck me.“ he simply says, and it sounds so obscene, so dirty, and Newt can’t help but enjoy the way these words leave Percival’s mouth, so sinfully promising.

The nail of his thumb scrapes the slightest bit along his slit and he lets out a breathy moan. Newt then, closes the gap between their mouths and slides his eager tongue in Percival’s hot mouth. The fantasy feels so vivid, it makes him shudder. Their tongues tangle wildly, saliva is dripping hot down their chins and hands keep exploring each other, mapping every millimeter of other body.

Newt’s hips thrust up, meeting the movements of his hand. The pumps become rhythmical, and faster. 

Imagination presents him a naked, flushed Percival, laying underneath and panting into his mouth as he tries to reach out for Newt’s lips with his. The strong hands are gentle when they wrap around Newt’s middle and drag him down, onto Percival, to give him a proper kiss.

Newt stops biting at his lips and trying to muffle his groans. Every pant, moan and squelching sound drives him closer and closer-

Percival is needy under him, his legs spread at their limit in an inviting gesture and Newt’s eyes follow that tongue, darting out, licking at the swollen lips.

Newt kisses them again, hungrily, greedily, biting at the soft flesh, almost drawing blood. Newt’s mouth closes on one of Percival’s nipples and the sounds the man makes is music to his ears. His body arches off bed as his thrusts become more and more impetuous.

Images of clamps on Percival’s pretty, puffy from too much licking and biting, pink nipples flood his mind and Newt whines, adding the second hand to where the first one works on his cock, and it still feels far from enough.

He licks Percival open, taking his time and enjoying the sweet trembling in the man’s body, as well as his whimpers. Percival’s cock is angry red, leaking onto his stomach and this is the moment Newt decides to use a leather strap. Percival’s eyes follow every single one of his fingers’ movement as he clasps the toy on his member, but doesn’t protest.

However, when Newt gags him, Percival growls lowly, biting at the thing. The image stirs Newt up maybe more than it should, but then again, everything about Percival is inexplicably arousing.

His fantasy moves on from this point to the one where he uses a dildo to fulfill Percival’s earlier request and fuck him, at first teasingly slow, then fast and hard, until Percival is a sobbing mess under him, unable to come because of the strap around his erection. Newt smirks down at him, his own breath coming in heavy pants, his own dick hard and ready to burst any moment. He takes the gag out of Percival’s mouth and gets rid of the strap. When he wants to finally give Percival his release, the man grabs at his hand.

“Wait,“ Percival gasps, eyes wide and face flushed “I want you inside me when I come.“

The sound of his doorbell ringing makes him curse aloud while the hands don’t stop working on his painfully hard cock. Goddamn, he is so fucking close, let him come, please.

“Newt!“ he hears that voice, Percival’s voice calling and it’s all he needed for the pleasure to come, rushing in waves over him. His body jerks while he’s spilling himself in his hand, the pleasure clouding his mind completely.

Coming down from his most intense orgasm in years, Newt makes out the sounds of his doorbell again and Percival’s voice makes him pale.

“Newt, please, open up if you’re home. It’s important.“

Newt shakes his head confused. What the real Percival forgot here, at his apartment’s door? And more importantly, how he knows Newt’s name and address?

These thoughts make Newt pale further. Is Percival a stalker or something? No, how is that possible… he’s so- Fuck, Scamander, you don’t even know how he is, stop imagining stuff for once and answer the damn door.

In record time, Newt cleans up and makes himself decent, before answering the door.

Newt is a clumsy fuck.  Percival is no stalker and a very polite and nice man. Nice enough to bring him the lost ID he mysteriously dropped in the shop. And then, then Newt thinks that it must be the universe itself giving him a chance and be he damned if he’ll let it slip away.

He invites Percival inside for a cup of tea. God, he’s so thirsty.

Chapter Text

If you don’t want to see your brother rotting in jail, we suggest you to cooperate with us.

Director of Magical Security of MACUSA,

Percival Graves

Theseus crumpled the paper and angrily threw it in the flames of fireplace in his office at the Ministry of Magic. Just what these Americans thought they were doing? How they dare trying to intimidate him? Him, Theseus Scamander, the war hero and the head of DMLE? And on top of that, using his little brother Newt?

No one dared to play cat and mouse with Theseus Scamander. Even Grindelwald.

Newt clutched the niffler close to his chest and watched Percival with big teary eyes. No, he had enough of Scamander’s shit, he won’t ever again get deceived by that innocent look.

“What have I told you, Newt?“ Percival said, trying to appear angry.

“To stay put,“ Newt replied, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and distracting Percival by doing so “to not cause any catastrophes-“

“Exactly, Scamander!“ Percival exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation “Exactly! And what you do? The complete opposite.“

“Uh, I’m sorry?“ Newt tried, a little smile at the corners of his mouth. Percival was weak to those bright blue eyes, to that smile, to that melodious voice, which whispered promises in his ears as Newt backed him up against the door of his office-

Percival coughed. Now, that was completely the wrong turn of thoughts.

“No, Scamander, I’m trying to ransom you and you fucking keep escaping and causing shit,“ Percival inhaled and exhaled to calm a bit down “which, I must add, my aurors take care of every damned time!“

“Wait.“ Scamander stood normally for once, and there was a seriousness in his voice that Graves couldn’t quite place. Percival stopped and raised a brow at him questioningly. “Ransom me?“

“Well…“ Percival forgot to mention a little thing here. Seraphina told him they needed strong allies against Grindelwald, so he had to lure somehow Theseus Scamander on their side. The single way was to use his younger brother.

“You what?“ Newt shrieked and Percival pulled a face. “You just had to ask me, for Merlin’s sake. Now we’re all doomed thanks to your brilliant plan. Great work, director Graves.“ Sarcasm was dripping from Newt’s words and Percival’s shoulders slumped a bit.

“That bad?“ He asked running a hand over his face.

That bad.“ Newt nodded, serious. “I’ll send a letter to let him know that I am fine and no one wants to make me rot in jail.“

Percival waved a hand and a piece of paper as well as a quill appeared in front of Newt. That took them and smiled softly.

“Thank you, Percy.“

Percival was fucking weak.

They sat at his office desk and as Newt started scribbling on paper, there was a series of loud crashes heard through the entire department. Percival drew his wand automatically, listening and waiting, concentrated. Newt, on the other hand, groaned and dropped his head in his hands and shook it, exasperated.

“Late…“ He murmured. “Too late… He’s here…“

“Who’s here Newt?“ Percival looked warily between Newt and the door of his office.

“Me.“ A voice said behind his back and Percival spun around in time to see a cruel grin on a freckled face and ginger hair and blue eyes sparkling dangerously-

“Surprise, motherfucker.“ Theseus said and knocked Percival out.

“Theseus, holy mother of unicorns, stop that right now.“ Newt growled and rushed to Percival.

“B-But!“ Theseus babbled, pouting at the look Newt gave him.

“Congratulations, brother, you just knocked out my boyfriend.“

“Is he your boyfriend?“ Theseus said, blinking owlishly at Newt. “Then,“ Theseus was pouting again, his arms crossed on his chest in a childish gesture “I should’ve ended him on spot.“


Chapter Text

Percival feels fingers wrapped around his neck, ever so slightly pressing on his Adam’s apple, enough to make him suffocate but not hard enough to strangle him.

He’s completely out of strength, but still grabs at the possessive hands weakly.

“You are mine.“ Percival hears his captor snarl angrily in his right ear and struggles to focus his eyes on him. Grindelwald looks anything but calm, and those eyes, burning with anger, that scowl on his face - these are so out of place.

The ever calm and composed Grindelwald has gone mad only because someone else tried to torture Percival? What kind of twisted mind this man has?

The pressure on Percival’s neck becomes weaker and weaker until Grindelwald’s cold fingers just linger on the bruised skin.

Percival coughs and tries to fill his lungs with the much lacking oxygen. His hands are still grasping Grindelwald’s as he gasps and tries to blink away the tears formed in his eyes earlier.

“You will always be mine.“ Grindelwald murmurs and Percival barely catches the softness of Grindelwald’s lips against the bruises left on his neck.

“Only mine.“ Grindelwald repeats while leaving another tender kiss on Percival’s jaw.

Chapter Text

Graves is so frustrated with the extra work he gets to do after he’s back. Wasn’t it enough that no one fucking noticed? Why he has to rake Grindelwald’s shit on top of everything? Just because this asshole was lazy to do his work as director of Magical Security, Graves has tons of never ending papers haunting him in every corner of his office. Not like there is any visible corners in his office now.

He wants to just rest a goddamn minute. Is that too much to ask for?

The quill breaks in his palm as his hand trembles with anger. It was the tenth quill for the last two hours, the pens and pencils long broken and laying in a pile next to his office desk, at his right.

Graves feels like it is a matter of life and death to take a break, so he silently agrees with his inner voice and tells Seraphina’s annoying voice inside his head to shut up and fuck off.

Taking his coat, Graves walks out of his office with long, decisive strides, not without banging the door closed behind. He won’t come back to those mountains of paper until the next morning.

The rest of his evening passes in a blur of memory. He visits some of the underground pubs, not bothering with disguise, because now, hardly someone will recognize him. Dark circles and pale skin are the best make-up. Add crumpled clothes and tousled hair to the equation and you will get an ultimate disguise of Percival Graves, done by some newbie. No one will ever think that this man is actually the real Graves.

After the third pub, he’s sure no one will even dare to speak to a drunk disguise of Percival Graves. They will have enough sympathy to leave him alone.

He’s utterly drunk, he can feel the alcohol running with his blood through his system, but even this can’t make him relax properly. On the fourth glass of giggle water at the fifth pub, his eyes glint and lips spread into a devilish smirk. His drunk self makes a decision, while the sober part of his mind is no longer available.

Swaying on his feet, Graves makes his way to MACUSA’s ground level, where are the cells for criminals. Clutching a bottle in his left hand - a bottle he can’t really remember where he snatched from - and using his right one for support off the walls, he safely arrives at his destination. Safely, as without stumbling and making his disguise more plausible with a bruised face.

Making it around the corner, he notices guards at that one particular cell he decided to break in earlier. He makes two retreating steps and shushes himself. For the next ten (in reality thirty, have mercy on his drunk brain to perceive the time flow) minutes, he muses on how to distract the guards, his mind refusing to come up with a proper plan. Then he’s struck and snaps his fingers, smiling dumbly at the brilliant (stupid) idea he got.

Why thinking so much about how to distract them when he can just knock them out?

He slowly gets that annoying stick out of his coat pocket and points it at both guards. His tongue tangles two times during the spell pronunciation and he’s sure the color of the light must be purple and not green. He really hopes he didn’t cast the killing curse accidentally.

The guards slide slowly down and when Graves stumbles towards them, wand safely tucked in his coat pocket, and checks up on them, he breathes with relief because he finds a beating pulse under his fingers.

He gets back in a more or less standing position and flings the door of the cell open. Dark brown eyes peer inside suspiciously and Graves makes a tentative step inside. When his eyes catch glimpse of a smug face and mismatched eyes, his anger is back on full force, making him close the distance between him and the source of all problems in a matter of seconds.

“Grindelwald.“ Graves growls under his breath, barring his teeth like a dog would.

“Oh,“ Grindelwald has the most surprised face he’s capable of “director Graves decided to pay me a visit?!“ The little gasp at the end makes a thick dark eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

“Yeah.“ Graves lets out through gritted teeth. He’s angry and he needs to calm down, so he pops the bottle open and chugs down almost half of the amber liquid. Warmth seeps back in his bones and he feels brave all of a sudden, even in front of the darkest wizard of their time, his captor and torturer for months. Oh, with that shit in his veins he will be brave even in front of Scamander’s nundu.

“I’ll ass your kick!“ Graves yells at Grindelwald and hiccups, the alcohol making his legs mushy all over again.

“Oh, oh, director, I’ll gladly accept your offer, but I’m afraid I can’t move from this spot.“ He tilts his head at his back and his handcuffed wrists. “And my kick is pretty painful, I’m afraid your pretty rear won’t handle it.“

“Huh?“ Graves blinks. His mind is too clouded to keep up with the shit coming out of Grindelwald’s mouth.

He slowly approaches the sitting man and grabs at the front of his shirt.

“You fucking shut the hell up!” Graves shakes the man weakly.

Grindelwald’s nose scrunches at the heavy smell of alcohol.

“Just how many bottles have you drank…“ Mismatched eyes rolled at Graves.

“Can’t remember.“ Graves replies sincerely and sways forward, onto Grindelwald. His face connects with Grindelwald’s crotch and he hears a wolf whistle from above.

“Director Graves, just what kind of thoughts you have in that drunk head of yours.“

Graves raises his head and clutches at his stomach.

“Oh, no, you don’t-“

Graves smirks. Oh hell yes, he fucking is.

The next morning comes fast for Graves, who slept on Grindelwald’s bed and hellishly slow for Grindelwald, who had his crotch wet and reeking of alcohol and fuck knows what.

He won’t make fun of Graves, drunk or not, ever again.

Chapter Text

You know that Grindelwald is a bad guy, everyone knows that he’s a bad guy- so it’s not so surprising to see aurors chasing him whenever they catch a glimpse of his face, or the white pineapple hairstyle - he hates it, of course, why he has to look like that? He often asks the creator, but well. The important fact here is that he’s noticeable. Very much. After the whole “stealing Graves’ identity” shit, he simply doesn’t have time to search for another personality to steal, so he sticks to his white pineapple head for some time after escaping MACUSA headquarters. But he’s not the one to hide until everything calms down (MACUSA is in active search for him, holy shit, what are you doing sticking out that pineapple head of yours out of your hideout)- well, don’t ask how he’s got chased by half of MACUSA’s DMLE. And they seem very angry on top of everything- oh, they probably found their director unconscious in his wardrobe- that’s not important now. If there were at least fifteen aurors, he would do fine, but there are at least thirty and he doesn’t know why the fuck they were so many, did they know he wanted to go to buy a niffler pastry from that new bakery? What? He likes the niffler pastries from there.


And why the hell Scamander was running beside him? Trying again his Swooping Evil shit? That won’t work twice, Scamander, and you’re definitely an idiot if you think it will. Grindelwald twists and grabs Newt by the neck, pointing his wand at man’s throat. Newt pants, but seems pretty much unfazed by the wand digging into his skin.


“Mr. Grindelwald.“ Newt says and tries to look at the man over his shoulder. “I’m actually flattered you want to use me as a hostage, but-“ he points at the thirty aurors who are almost there “they’re after me. I somehow…“ Newt stutters as Grindelwald gapes at him “managed to put on fire half of the MACUSA building. Unintentionally, of course.“


Grindelwald released him and gave him an incredulous look. “Scamander, you are a walking disaster, seriously.“ He chuckled and grabbed Newt’s hand, as the aurors were only feet away from them “That’s why I think you’re interesting.“


He disapparates both of them a few times in row to get rid of the annoying aurors, and why he didn’t do that from the very beginning? Ah, right. He was distracted by that amused face Scamander made while running from the aurors.

Chapter Text

It was completely his fault. Newt didn’t want to feel like this, with his heart rate exceeding a mouse’s, with his body temperature rising until he felt more than just hot.


He had just mumbled about the weather being uncooperative and them being dressed too light for a night meant to be spent on stake out. He overheard a conversation some traffickers had in one of those shady bars Gellert had often businesses at. They mentioned the place, time and a flock of hippogriffs. That was all Newt needed to know.


He never worried about how many people he will have to confront, will he be heavily outnumbered or not - after all, worrying meant you had to suffer twice, so Newt  preferred to suffer once a good beating and save some lives, than worrying over it or worse, to feel the doubt which comes with the realization of the things waiting for him there. He simply couldn’t let those lives to waste just like that. And apparently, Gellert couldn’t let him waste his own life.


Gellert never argued about his eagerness to save all of the beasts in need. He would just sigh resigned sometimes, but there was always a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. Gellert had the habit of saying that Newt was an interesting person, and used this to justify his decision of following and helping Newt. It made Newt wonder what exactly Gellert was seeing in his self, the annoying and clumsy one, the one who practically was attracting trouble and was the human definition of chaos.


Newt tried to understand him, but he couldn’t, really. And now, having those strong hands wrapped gently around him, that hot breath ghosting on the skin of his neck and that bristle tickling his cheek, all of this, made his heart hammer madly against his rib cage.


Gellert was silent, his breathing rhythm steady and muscles relaxed. Maybe even his face wore one of those peaceful expressions, with that slight smirk and small glint in his gray eyes. But Newt could feel the fast heartbeat sending vibrations through his back, resonating with his own, creating a perfect synchronization. Just the realization that maybe, just maybe, Gellert feels the same way as he does, made something clench painfully in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to feel it, not towards Gellert Grindelwald.


Gellert released him for a moment, moved just barely inches away and Newt already craved that body heat. He caught Gellert’s hands mid air and wrapped them  possessively back around himself, his fingers lingering on Gellert’s.


“Hold me a bit longer.“ Newt murmured, the look in his eyes distant, saddened. “I’m cold.“


It was all Gellert’s fault that he felt like this.

Chapter Text

"Mr. Graves." A pair of dark brown eyes look up to him from the great pile of paperwork on their owner's desk. Graves slightly frowns and Newt knows why: he's out of breath, he's practically leaning on said desk for support and his eyes are pleading.


"What happened, Mr. Scamander?" Graves asks, almost nonchalantly as his eyes drop back to his papers.


"I need your help." At Graves' raised eyebrow, he continues "I found out about some smugglers of occamy egg shells." Newt takes a deep breath and gulps "I need the help of Aurors here, your help. I'm afraid I won't stand a chance alone in this situation." His eyes stare into Graves' ones, firm determination burning in them. He doesn't dare to look away, not when so many beasts were on the line.


Graves puts the papers down, stretching his back a little. He looks calm and composed as ever.


"I can't." He simply says and Newt's heart sinks. Before he can mutter his question, Graves beats him to it "We got this big case on our hands, Mr. Scamander, and I simply can't send a team with you, only because you heard some rumors."


"But-" Newt starts to protest, and he's silenced by Graves' raised hand.


"Shush, Mr. Scamander, I got no time for that. I'll get O'Brien. He'll go with you."


And simple like that, Newt is dismissed out of Graves' office and in department's corridor. He waits for O'Brien to come up, fidgeting nervously with the handle of his case.


When the man pats his shoulder, Newt jumps on his spot and squawks. O'Brien flashes him a grin, his usual grin and urges him out of department and to the apparition point.


"So, Scamander," O'Brien says and Newt's eyes focus on man's broad shoulders, his tall figure, his big, strong hands "what is it this time?" He asks Newt over his shoulder.


"Occamy egg shells." Newt mutters. The man slows down, falling into Newt's rhythm, walking beside him. Newt smiles, continuing his explanation "You see, those are made of pure silver, and they cost a lot on the black markets these days, so obviously there are people who want to smuggle those."


O'Brien is silent and Newt just continues rambling about occamies and their precious egg shells, completely missing the dark look in man's eyes. They arrive at the apparition point, O'Brien takes Newt's hand, saying simply "Lead the way, Scamander."


And Newt just does it. The second his legs are on hard surface, he's being shoved into the wall of a building in the narrow alley they apparated to. The battered suitcase is dropped on the ground with an echoing thud. Newt tries to wriggle out of O'Brien's iron grasp and blinks confused at the man.


"What- What are you doing, Mr. O'Brien?" Newt says and it comes out as a whine. He slaps himself mentally.


"I'm sorry, Scamander, but you stay back and forget about those eggs." There's something dark in those usually kind eyes and Newt shivers.


"Why would I?" Newt says, gulping when O'Brien shoves him further into the bricks of wall. The man rolls his eyes, almost in exasperation at Newt's question.


"I'm taking those." O'Brien hisses through gritted teeth in Newt's face. Newt's stomach drops. So, in the end, they're all the same...?


He grips at O'Brien's strong hands and tries to shake them off himself. He feels angry, betrayed. "Only over my lifeless body!" Newt snarls and grips harder.


It doesn't affect the man in any way. He just lets go of Newt, dodges his weak attempt to punch him in the gut and smiles wickedly at the magizoologist.


"As you wish, Scamander." O'Brien's eyes flash dangerously before Newt sees a drawn wand, pointed at him and hears a spell muttered under man's breath.  The world spins and Newt is falling on the muddy pavement before he even realizes it. Warmth spreads in his chest and he pats at the fabric of shirt here, finding it hot and damp. He brings the hand to his face and blue eyes widen. O'Brien was definitely determined to kill him for some occamy egg shells. He sees O'Brien's wicked smile once again before he's out of his field of view.


His head falls back, hitting the hard surface of asphalt as a ragged breath comes out of his mouth. Newt coughs violently and blood gushes out of both the wound in his chest and his mouth. He wasn't going to make it. Eyes falling on the suitcase laying somewhere nearby, Newt makes an effort to reach out to it. His outstretched hand falls back down before he reaches for it. He's completely drawn of any strength which was in him. All he can do is lay there and wait for his end, completely alone.


Sounds of explosions and screams fill the cold air, but Newt is completely unfazed by them. He continues to look at the gray sky, thinking about his creatures and how they will survive without his care. A single tear rolls down his temple. Rain starts pouring like a waterfall, drenching him in a matter of seconds. Trails of blood mixed with water and mud run over the dirty gray pavement. The rain silences everything around him, swallows any sounds. He can only hear the rhythmic splattering sound of water against ground and the pulse of his heart, which becomes weaker with every passing minute.


Before he knows it, there's a figure beside him, staring down and shielding him from the rain.


"I took care of everything." Newt hears the person say and shifts his eyes to them. Familiar mismatched eyes of Gellert Grindelwald look back into his.


A shallow breath escapes his bloodied lips and he continues to stare, eyes unfocused. Merlin, he's so tired of everything.


"Why should I believe you?" Newt murmurs, as if to no one in particular, but Grindelwald knows it's him and probably another dozen of people whom this question is directed at.


Grindelwald crouches down, beside Newt and inspects his wound. Newt's vision darkens and he wishes he could see his beasts for the last time. Grindelwald cradles Newt's face with both hands, his skin warm against Newt's cooled one "Because, I'm the only one who truly cares, Newton."


Images of Theseus, looking indifferently at him when Newt pleaded his brother to help him to get the hippogriff from under the heavy rock, which Newt couldn't levitate, because he wasn't a powerful wizard like his brother, - his lips pursed into a thin line, the annoyance in his eyes - all of this floods his mind. Tina, Graves, all of them have the same look. It makes Newt wonder, why he did believe all of them?


Newt gasps - and that is an effort for his damaged lungs - when Grindelwald suddenly presses his forehead to his and starts chanting something under his breath. Puffs of hot air warm Newt's lips and his body is engulfed by magic, strong and firm, not as cold as he thought of it many times. It's comforting and reassuring in some way. The magic heals him, Newt can feel it and his eyes fill with tears. He can move the numbed limbs again, and the first thing he does is clinging to Grindelwald's coat for dear life.


Eventually, the man releases him and Newt isn't dying anymore. He blinks away the tears and looks how Grindelwald takes out of his coat pocket an egg. It's of a beautiful silver and Newt bits back a sob. He sits up, taking the offered egg and clutching it close to his chest. He mouths his gratitude and thinks that perhaps, this man deserves a little chance.

Chapter Text

Newt feels ropes tightening around his middle and arms, binding him and leaving completely still until his usually slow self-preservation instincts finally kick in and he remembers he has his legs free.

He makes an effort to stand off ground, but his captor doesn’t let him. Whispering another binding spell, the wizard ties invisible ropes around Newt’s legs too, and now he’s completely unable to escape: wand scattered somewhere out of his reach and Pickett chirping nervous in his coat pocket, knowing that he can’t  do anything against binding magic.

Before Newt even can turn his head to glare fiercely at the man who captured him, he gets knocked out, his vision darkening.




Now, if someone asks him why he kidnapped Scamander, Grindelwald will just plainly shrug. You see, he didn’t plan to do it, it just kind of happened?

The guy just showed up in a place he certainly shouldn’t have, caused havoc for an injured mooncalf, and before the smugglers did the thing and hexed him right then and there, because the idiot was clearly outnumbered, Grindelwald took everything under control.

He bound the younger Scamander and told the others that he will personally torture this fool to death, because who in their right mind will interrupt a deal he’s present at? Probably no one, except Scamander, obviously.

Grindelwald sighs, putting an unconscious Newt on bed and summoning a chair to sit next to it. Something tells him he should untie the guy, but in the end, decides against it.

Sitting for half of hour like that, thinking what to do with Scamander next, Grindelwald barely misses when Newt stirs and opens his blue eyes to stare back into mismatched ones.

Newt opens and closes his mouth several times, clearly unable to process as to why the dark lord himself is hovering over him while he’s still bound. The invisible ropes around him are still tightly wrapped, cutting into the skin of his hands as he tries to free them.

“Scamander.“ Grindelwald says, his voice cool, expression unreadable.

Newt thinks the danger is real and trashes to get out of the goddamn ropes. Somewhere deep  inside, he knows he won’t be able to do so, because the ropes aren’t real, it’s a spell, and it won’t fall so easily when the one who cast it was Grindelwald himself.

Looking at Scamander while that is laying there, on his bed, all bound, flushed and panting from the little fight put against his spell, makes Grindelwald somehow feel sympathetic for the young lad. How exactly he should tell him that he meant to save his troublesome ass but it would be ridiculous for him to do so in front of his ‘business partners’?

“Y-you can’t just steal people!” Newt squawks and glares at him, his cheeks still flushed and hair tousled “It’s rude!”

Grindelwald blinks at him, incredulous. He laughs then, a barking sound filling the room. Just what on earth is happening in that ginger head?

“W-what? Why are you laughing?“ Newt’s voice is nervous but he wants to appear brave so badly it looks just funnier in Grindelwald’s eyes. A lazy smirk spreads on his lips. He leans to pat Newt’s head gently, as if dealing with a difficult teenager.

“I wanted to free you as soon as you are awake,” Newt’s eyes widen and so does Grindelwald’s smirk “but I suppose you can stay here some more time to teach me proper manners, young man.“