The someone in question was a petty thief; a no-name criminal that had been more of an irritation than a real problem until he had seemed to acquire superior lock-picking abilities and began breaking into higher and higher risk locations. A clean entrance did not mean a clean getaway, however, and he was caught sooner rather than later. The secret to his sudden string of successful break-ins had been revealed once his personal effects had been removed: a bowtruckle, vicious protector of trees and surprisingly good little lock-picks. Mystery solved and case all but closed, everyone had expected Graves to leave the interrogation and other minutia to the aurors- the department head obviously had larger things to tackle than a petty thief.
No one expected Graves to zero in on the bowtruckle sitting amongst everything else that had been confiscated from the thief and… frown at it. Not the disappointed or disapproving frown that usually came up when his time was wasted on a small matter, but the concerned sort of frown that seemed to be reserved only for when one of his aurors was actually in need of help (gruff, “hard-ass” boss or not, no one ever doubted that Graves cared about his department). And certainly no one expected Graves to actually go to the bowtruckle and inspect it. But inspect the bowtruckle Graves did, with great care and consideration for the creature’s delicate limbs and with a concerned frown on his face the whole time. “You’re not well-fed at all.” Graves told the bowtruckle after a few moments of intense consideration.
The bowtruckle peeped.
Gonzales, Tina, and Starling, all of whom had been watching with open fascination, exchanged glances. They elbowed each other a few times before Tina apparently lost the draw and cleared her throat. “How can you tell that, Sir?”
“Tell what?” Graves asked as he began to dig through the rest of the thief’s personal effects.
“That the bowtruckle is… underfed.”
“Its leaves are dried out around the edges,” Graves muttered, still apparently searching for something, “It’s also too thin for a bowtruckle of its size… ah.”
Graves unearthed a small glass bottle from the inside of a ratty leather pouch, looking triumphant only for a moment before he frowned again. “Dried out woodlice.” Graves sighed, opening the bottle and shaking some of the dead bugs out in front of the bowtruckle, “It’s no wonder, if that’s all the bastard’s been feeding you.”
The bowtruckle fell upon the lice with fervor, anyway, well past the point of being picky with its meals.
“I had no idea you knew so much about bowtruckles, Mr. Graves.” Tina said after a moment.
“Newt carries one in his pocket wherever he goes. Hard not to learn about them.” Graves replied, still focused on the creature before him.
“…Newts don’t have pockets.” Starling half whispered, looking as though he had missed something important.
“No, Newt is his husband.” Tina whispered back.
Starling took a few moments to parse the information. “His… oh! I didn’t know he had a name.”
Tina elbowed him. “Of course he has a name. Everyone has a name.”
“Right, it’s just we didn’t think he was…”
“Wait, I think we’re all missing something important here,” Gonzales interrupted before Starling could say anything too difficult to come back from, “Why would your husband be carrying a bowtruckle with him all the time, exactly?”
Graves finally turned his attention to the aurors behind him, one dark eyebrow raised, and Gonzales hastily added the word “sir” to the end of his sentence. “He has… attachment issues.” Graves told them after a moment.
“Him or the bowtruckle?” Starling asked before he could think better of it.
Graves shook his head, recapped the bottle of dried woodlice and handed it over to Starling. “Take the bowtruckle down to the beasts department and make sure it will be well cared-for until the trial date.”
Starling looked over to Tina and Gonzales before coming to the realization that Graves was, in fact, speaking to him and nodded hurriedly. “Ah, yes, sir. Right away.”
“And try not to let it become attached to you on the way down.” Graves added as he left the room.
“Yes, sir.” Starling replied automatically, then shot the bowtruckle a rather alarmed look, “He… doesn’t mean that literally. Right?”
“Shoulda paid more attention in school,” Gonzales clapped Starling on the shoulder with a grin, “C’mon, Goldstein. Have fun with the bowtruckle, Starling.”
Tina followed Gonzales into the interrogation room, leaving Starling alone to watch the bowtruckle uneasily and wonder how best to get it down to the beasts department without touching it.
-/-/-
The “Is that a bowtruckle in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me” jokes took about a month to peter out, and only then because it took someone that long to slip up and say it while Graves was in earshot. The speculation over whether Graves was simply knowledgeable about bowtruckles because they could be so easily used to commit crimes or because he really did have a husband who really did carry a bowtruckle in his pocket died out around the same time; as ever, the auror department was busy and speculation about their boss’s personal life was put on the back burner in favor of doing actual work. Mostly.
It couldn’t be said that the subject was ever entirely forgotten, however, which was perhaps why Graves’ announcement that he had taken some leave and that the department would be in the hands of Deputy Director Perkins for the next week and a half caused more of a stir than it might normally have. There were the usual groans in regards to Perkins’ temporary appointment, because Perkins was irritating and the aurors would listen to him but they wouldn’t like it, but on top of that was the suspicion of why Graves had taken any leave in the first place.
“You never take vacation time.” Gonzales accused, sitting behind his desk with his arms crossed.
“He takes vacation every year,” Aster disagreed, “Madam President makes him.”
“Hm,” Gonzales grunted, “Well where are you going?”
Graves frowned at the auror, moving to stack his papers into order. “I informed you so that you wouldn’t be caught unaware by the sudden shift in department heading, not so that you can interrogate me. If there are no further concerns…”
“It just seems like an odd time to take vacation, ‘s all.” Gonzales shrugged, “I was just wondering why now. And where.”
“If there are no further concerns pertaining to the meeting, we can all get back to work.” Graves continued as though Gonzales had never spoken.
“Well you did mention it as part of the meeting.” Aster pointed out.
“You always know where we’re going when we take leave.” Gonzales added.
“Because I’m the director and I need to be able to get a hold of you. Do you think I’m stalking you with the information?” Graves snapped.
“We’re not going to stalk you!” Gonzales insisted, failing to heed the climbing irritation in Graves’ voice. “We’re curious!”
“Besides, what if we need to get a hold of you?” Aster chimed in, apparently bolstered by Gonzales’ inability to keep his own mouth shut. A curious look passed over Graves’ face, somewhere between pained and viciously irritated, before the expression smoothed away completely. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see if Graves had finally been pushed too far or if he was planning on ignoring them all outright. The latter seemed possible as the man bent to shuffle his papers into a folder, which left everyone startled when a single word rang out over the silent room.
“Canada.” Graves bit out.
“Why in the hell would you go to Canada?” Gonzales snorted before he could really stop himself.
“Because that’s where my husband is, Gonzales.” Graves exhaled, fixing the auror with an irritable stare, “Is your curiosity satisfied, now?”
Gonzales opened his mouth but shut it just as quickly when Graves’ eye twitched, deciding not to push his luck. Aster, however, had not seen the warning twitch and spoke up in Gonzales’ stead. “Wait, so… your husband, whom none of us have ever met or seen evidence of… is from Canada.” She asked slowly.
Graves rounded on Aster, causing her to flinch to attention out of habit. “No. He is from England. He is currently in Canada, consulting on a mooncalf reserve there, where I intend to surprise him with a visit.” Graves took his folder and straightened with a snap so loud he had to have spelled it to amplify, “I will be gone exactly ten days. I will be leaving tomorrow and, since everyone seems so concerned about my absence, you can finish any open reports you have and submit them to me by this evening so there is no slack left when I go.”
Graves cast a look around the office, waiting for anyone to object, and nodded at their silence. “Try not to blow up the department while I’m gone.” He added before he turned and left for his office.
A collective exhale resonated throughout the office when they heard the click of Graves’ office door, several aurors turning sour expressions on Gonzales. “You’re actually determined to make everyone in here miserable, aren’t you?” Tina sighed.
Gonzales chewed the inside of his cheek sheepishly, then pointed an accusing finger at Aster. “Hey, she’s the one who insinuated the boss has an imaginary girlfriend from Canada!”
“Imaginary husband from Canada,” Aster corrected him archly, “And seriously? It’s too easy.”
“See? She doesn’t believe it, either!” Gonzales insisted, “At least I’m trying to find the truth.”
“Yeah, well, find the truth at the bottom of my reports, Gonzales.” Tina snapped, getting up to drop a stack of folders on her coworker’s desk, “I had other things to do today before you forced a deadline on all of us.”
“Hey!” Gonzales protested, attempting to scramble the extra paperwork off his desk, but Tina had already turned heel and left the office, a few other aurors taking her cue and leaving alongside her to complete their own outside assignments.
“So…” Starling, who had remained wide-eyed and quiet for the entire conversation, finally spoke, looking from Gonzales to Aster and back again, “Do we not believe Graves’ husband is in Canada?”
Gonzales groaned.
-/-/-
Ten days exactly passed and Graves returned from his vacation. Whistling.
It wasn’t a particular tune anyone recognized, but it was vaguely pleasant nonetheless, if not somewhat off-putting for coming from someone who notoriously did not whistle.
“Well he’s definitely in a better mood,” Tina commented when Graves had passed through the office for a cup of coffee, “Maybe he really did go up and visit his husband.”
“Oh, I’d say he definitely found someone to occupy his time.” Gonzales winked, grinning salaciously.
Aster smacked him in the side, shooting him a narrow-eyed look. “Don’t be crass.”
“Just saying.” Gonzales shrugged.
The aurors supposed it was excusable, then, considering the whistling, that they didn’t notice the ring until almost a week later. It was a very subtle ring, after all, and the whistling had been rather jarring. In the end, it was Tina who caught sight of it- a dark wood band around Graves’ left ring finger, polished and gleaming in the low light of the office one evening. “Oh.”
Graves glanced over at Tina. “What’ve you got, Goldstein?”
Tina clapped a hand over her mouth and dropped it immediately, shaking her head. “Nothing, sir, sorry, I just saw,” She paused and cleared her throat, “That’s a very nice ring. I didn’t notice it earlier.”
The few other aurors gathered around the conference table, sifting through files and information on the present case, all glanced up at Tina’s words to search Graves’ hands for the ring in question. Graves himself paused his work, turning his hand for just a moment to look at the ring. “Thank you.” He said after a moment, looking back to his file.
“Is… it new?” Tina ventured, looking carefully down at her own papers.
“Not particularly. I hardly ever wear it, though. Gets in the way.”
Tina hazarded a glance in her boss’s direction and found him still concentrating on his work. “Why wear it now, then?”
“I thought it would be nice.” Graves looked up, catching Tina just as she turned back to what she had been reading and shook his head, “Newt will be coming home to stay for a while. Thought I should actually wear my wedding ring for once.”
“Oh,” Tina paused, “That does sound nice, Mr. Graves.”
“Glad you think so.” Graves drawled, dragging another file off the stack beside him to focus on.
Tina and the other aurors around the table exchanged a quick glance, noting the quiet tick of wood against wood, the sound of Graves tapping his ring on the edge of the table as he became absorbed in his file.
Fill: In Phony Matrimony 2/3 [Graves/Newt, no warnings]
No one expected Graves to zero in on the bowtruckle sitting amongst everything else that had been confiscated from the thief and… frown at it. Not the disappointed or disapproving frown that usually came up when his time was wasted on a small matter, but the concerned sort of frown that seemed to be reserved only for when one of his aurors was actually in need of help (gruff, “hard-ass” boss or not, no one ever doubted that Graves cared about his department). And certainly no one expected Graves to actually go to the bowtruckle and inspect it. But inspect the bowtruckle Graves did, with great care and consideration for the creature’s delicate limbs and with a concerned frown on his face the whole time. “You’re not well-fed at all.” Graves told the bowtruckle after a few moments of intense consideration.
The bowtruckle peeped.
Gonzales, Tina, and Starling, all of whom had been watching with open fascination, exchanged glances. They elbowed each other a few times before Tina apparently lost the draw and cleared her throat. “How can you tell that, Sir?”
“Tell what?” Graves asked as he began to dig through the rest of the thief’s personal effects.
“That the bowtruckle is… underfed.”
“Its leaves are dried out around the edges,” Graves muttered, still apparently searching for something, “It’s also too thin for a bowtruckle of its size… ah.”
Graves unearthed a small glass bottle from the inside of a ratty leather pouch, looking triumphant only for a moment before he frowned again. “Dried out woodlice.” Graves sighed, opening the bottle and shaking some of the dead bugs out in front of the bowtruckle, “It’s no wonder, if that’s all the bastard’s been feeding you.”
The bowtruckle fell upon the lice with fervor, anyway, well past the point of being picky with its meals.
“I had no idea you knew so much about bowtruckles, Mr. Graves.” Tina said after a moment.
“Newt carries one in his pocket wherever he goes. Hard not to learn about them.” Graves replied, still focused on the creature before him.
“…Newts don’t have pockets.” Starling half whispered, looking as though he had missed something important.
“No, Newt is his husband.” Tina whispered back.
Starling took a few moments to parse the information. “His… oh! I didn’t know he had a name.”
Tina elbowed him. “Of course he has a name. Everyone has a name.”
“Right, it’s just we didn’t think he was…”
“Wait, I think we’re all missing something important here,” Gonzales interrupted before Starling could say anything too difficult to come back from, “Why would your husband be carrying a bowtruckle with him all the time, exactly?”
Graves finally turned his attention to the aurors behind him, one dark eyebrow raised, and Gonzales hastily added the word “sir” to the end of his sentence.
“He has… attachment issues.” Graves told them after a moment.
“Him or the bowtruckle?” Starling asked before he could think better of it.
Graves shook his head, recapped the bottle of dried woodlice and handed it over to Starling. “Take the bowtruckle down to the beasts department and make sure it will be well cared-for until the trial date.”
Starling looked over to Tina and Gonzales before coming to the realization that Graves was, in fact, speaking to him and nodded hurriedly. “Ah, yes, sir. Right away.”
“And try not to let it become attached to you on the way down.” Graves added as he left the room.
“Yes, sir.” Starling replied automatically, then shot the bowtruckle a rather alarmed look, “He… doesn’t mean that literally. Right?”
“Shoulda paid more attention in school,” Gonzales clapped Starling on the shoulder with a grin, “C’mon, Goldstein. Have fun with the bowtruckle, Starling.”
Tina followed Gonzales into the interrogation room, leaving Starling alone to watch the bowtruckle uneasily and wonder how best to get it down to the beasts department without touching it.
-/-/-
The “Is that a bowtruckle in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me” jokes took about a month to peter out, and only then because it took someone that long to slip up and say it while Graves was in earshot. The speculation over whether Graves was simply knowledgeable about bowtruckles because they could be so easily used to commit crimes or because he really did have a husband who really did carry a bowtruckle in his pocket died out around the same time; as ever, the auror department was busy and speculation about their boss’s personal life was put on the back burner in favor of doing actual work. Mostly.
It couldn’t be said that the subject was ever entirely forgotten, however, which was perhaps why Graves’ announcement that he had taken some leave and that the department would be in the hands of Deputy Director Perkins for the next week and a half caused more of a stir than it might normally have. There were the usual groans in regards to Perkins’ temporary appointment, because Perkins was irritating and the aurors would listen to him but they wouldn’t like it, but on top of that was the suspicion of why Graves had taken any leave in the first place.
“You never take vacation time.” Gonzales accused, sitting behind his desk with his arms crossed.
“He takes vacation every year,” Aster disagreed, “Madam President makes him.”
“Hm,” Gonzales grunted, “Well where are you going?”
Graves frowned at the auror, moving to stack his papers into order. “I informed you so that you wouldn’t be caught unaware by the sudden shift in department heading, not so that you can interrogate me. If there are no further concerns…”
“It just seems like an odd time to take vacation, ‘s all.” Gonzales shrugged, “I was just wondering why now. And where.”
“If there are no further concerns pertaining to the meeting, we can all get back to work.” Graves continued as though Gonzales had never spoken.
“Well you did mention it as part of the meeting.” Aster pointed out.
“You always know where we’re going when we take leave.” Gonzales added.
“Because I’m the director and I need to be able to get a hold of you. Do you think I’m stalking you with the information?” Graves snapped.
“We’re not going to stalk you!” Gonzales insisted, failing to heed the climbing irritation in Graves’ voice. “We’re curious!”
“Besides, what if we need to get a hold of you?” Aster chimed in, apparently bolstered by Gonzales’ inability to keep his own mouth shut.
A curious look passed over Graves’ face, somewhere between pained and viciously irritated, before the expression smoothed away completely. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see if Graves had finally been pushed too far or if he was planning on ignoring them all outright. The latter seemed possible as the man bent to shuffle his papers into a folder, which left everyone startled when a single word rang out over the silent room.
“Canada.” Graves bit out.
“Why in the hell would you go to Canada?” Gonzales snorted before he could really stop himself.
“Because that’s where my husband is, Gonzales.” Graves exhaled, fixing the auror with an irritable stare, “Is your curiosity satisfied, now?”
Gonzales opened his mouth but shut it just as quickly when Graves’ eye twitched, deciding not to push his luck. Aster, however, had not seen the warning twitch and spoke up in Gonzales’ stead. “Wait, so… your husband, whom none of us have ever met or seen evidence of… is from Canada.” She asked slowly.
Graves rounded on Aster, causing her to flinch to attention out of habit. “No. He is from England. He is currently in Canada, consulting on a mooncalf reserve there, where I intend to surprise him with a visit.” Graves took his folder and straightened with a snap so loud he had to have spelled it to amplify, “I will be gone exactly ten days. I will be leaving tomorrow and, since everyone seems so concerned about my absence, you can finish any open reports you have and submit them to me by this evening so there is no slack left when I go.”
Graves cast a look around the office, waiting for anyone to object, and nodded at their silence. “Try not to blow up the department while I’m gone.” He added before he turned and left for his office.
A collective exhale resonated throughout the office when they heard the click of Graves’ office door, several aurors turning sour expressions on Gonzales. “You’re actually determined to make everyone in here miserable, aren’t you?” Tina sighed.
Gonzales chewed the inside of his cheek sheepishly, then pointed an accusing finger at Aster. “Hey, she’s the one who insinuated the boss has an imaginary girlfriend from Canada!”
“Imaginary husband from Canada,” Aster corrected him archly, “And seriously? It’s too easy.”
“See? She doesn’t believe it, either!” Gonzales insisted, “At least I’m trying to find the truth.”
“Yeah, well, find the truth at the bottom of my reports, Gonzales.” Tina snapped, getting up to drop a stack of folders on her coworker’s desk, “I had other things to do today before you forced a deadline on all of us.”
“Hey!” Gonzales protested, attempting to scramble the extra paperwork off his desk, but Tina had already turned heel and left the office, a few other aurors taking her cue and leaving alongside her to complete their own outside assignments.
“So…” Starling, who had remained wide-eyed and quiet for the entire conversation, finally spoke, looking from Gonzales to Aster and back again, “Do we not believe Graves’ husband is in Canada?”
Gonzales groaned.
-/-/-
Ten days exactly passed and Graves returned from his vacation. Whistling.
It wasn’t a particular tune anyone recognized, but it was vaguely pleasant nonetheless, if not somewhat off-putting for coming from someone who notoriously did not whistle.
“Well he’s definitely in a better mood,” Tina commented when Graves had passed through the office for a cup of coffee, “Maybe he really did go up and visit his husband.”
“Oh, I’d say he definitely found someone to occupy his time.” Gonzales winked, grinning salaciously.
Aster smacked him in the side, shooting him a narrow-eyed look. “Don’t be crass.”
“Just saying.” Gonzales shrugged.
The aurors supposed it was excusable, then, considering the whistling, that they didn’t notice the ring until almost a week later. It was a very subtle ring, after all, and the whistling had been rather jarring. In the end, it was Tina who caught sight of it- a dark wood band around Graves’ left ring finger, polished and gleaming in the low light of the office one evening. “Oh.”
Graves glanced over at Tina. “What’ve you got, Goldstein?”
Tina clapped a hand over her mouth and dropped it immediately, shaking her head. “Nothing, sir, sorry, I just saw,” She paused and cleared her throat, “That’s a very nice ring. I didn’t notice it earlier.”
The few other aurors gathered around the conference table, sifting through files and information on the present case, all glanced up at Tina’s words to search Graves’ hands for the ring in question. Graves himself paused his work, turning his hand for just a moment to look at the ring. “Thank you.” He said after a moment, looking back to his file.
“Is… it new?” Tina ventured, looking carefully down at her own papers.
“Not particularly. I hardly ever wear it, though. Gets in the way.”
Tina hazarded a glance in her boss’s direction and found him still concentrating on his work. “Why wear it now, then?”
“I thought it would be nice.” Graves looked up, catching Tina just as she turned back to what she had been reading and shook his head, “Newt will be coming home to stay for a while. Thought I should actually wear my wedding ring for once.”
“Oh,” Tina paused, “That does sound nice, Mr. Graves.”
“Glad you think so.” Graves drawled, dragging another file off the stack beside him to focus on.
Tina and the other aurors around the table exchanged a quick glance, noting the quiet tick of wood against wood, the sound of Graves tapping his ring on the edge of the table as he became absorbed in his file.
-/-/-