http://archiveofourown.org/works/11301006/chapters/25286007
Newt loved children, regardless of their species. He was an expert at caring for the cubs and hatchlings that his creatures often had. He had bottlefed the baby graphorn for the first few days of its life, until it learned how to latch on to his mother's teat. He wanted to have a child of his own, young that he could love and cherish and raise well.

Percival wasn't quite so affectionate, for all that he was gentle and tender with Newt. He admitted in one of his many letters that he didn't like the idea of the Graves line dying out. Their lives weren't stable, but an older child would be able to stay with Newt in his travels even if a newborn couldn't. It had been Newt who first raised the idea of adoption - of them finding space in their life and in their hearts for a child who had nowhere else to go, who needed what they were able to share.

Percival had agreed, and Newt had been full of hope as he packed his case and headed to America. But the man there to meet him wasn't his beloved, and Newt had nearly died before the truth had come out. It had taken a few weeks for them to find their own stability, for Newt to relax and for Percival to stop flinching at shadows. Newt didn't mention the idea of a child again, not after what had happened. He wasn't sure that they would be able to offer a child safety. Just because he still wanted a child, it didn't mean that he could risk their life with Grindelwald after them both. Percival was still healing from what had been done - not all the bruises had faded yet.

He was in bed, curled up in Percival's arms, exchanging lazy kisses with him. Percival reached down, tucking one red curl behind Newt's ear.
"Newt?"
"Yes?" Newt asked, tearing his thoughts away from the family he would probably never have and focusing on his lover.
"Has Queenie told you you think exceptionally loudly?" Percival asked after a moment. Newt blushed, but he nodded. Percival leaned in to embrace him gently.

"You'd be a great parent Newt," Percival reassured him. "You've got the heart for it, and you care so much more than most people..."
"I don't know we'd even be allowed," Newt shrugged. "And anyway, I don't... I don't want the child to hate us. I don't want to steal some child from their family just because we're magical and we want children."

"No-Maj born children do better with magical parents," Percival murmured, although he could see the truth to Newt's words. Newt had grown up in Britain, and they did things differently there. "But I know how you feel. Neither of us is going to get pregnant though..." He rubbed Newt's back, floating a blanket over to him. "I know what this means to you. I've been talking to a few people in MACUSA, and I think I've found ourselves the right child. A little girl. Her family abandoned her, and the woman who raised her is dead. She's got a good amount of magical ability. She's nearly nine years old."

"Can we meet her?" Newt asked, looking at him in shock. His mouth was open slightly. Percival knew he had almost given up hope, but he hadn't abandoned this dream. He smiled and kissed him gently. He hoped that it would reassure Newt to know that Percival had been giving this some thought, that it wasn't just a last moment suggestion but one he had researched.
"We can. Tina already has."

Newt frowned.
"I thought we were worried about the risk of Grindelwald coming after any child of ours."
"Not this one," Percival said after a moment. "Grindelwald is already going to be looking for her. She'll be safer with us than anywhere else."
"The Barebone girl?" Newt asked softly as things slotted into place in his mind. He had only heard about the girls from Tina. The older daughter had been killed in Credence's outburst of magic but there had been another child. A younger girl, the one that Grindelwald had mistaken for the obscurial.

"She has magic. I think that woman knew that and that was why she brought her in. But she's alive. She's alive and she's magical, and she needs a family. Her birth family gave her up." Percival said softly. "MACUSA has her in a cell, but they're willing to let us-"
"They have a child in a cell?" Newt asked, shocked.
"They have a potential obscurial in a cell," Percival corrected, but Newt was already standing, pulling on his clothes. He grabbed Pickett off the nightstand and went to wait by the door.

Percival blinked a couple of times, trying to work out what was happening.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to get our daughter," Newt said firmly. His head was held high, the way it normally only was when they were arguing about the rights of creatures, and Percival couldn't help smiling a little. Newt meant the world to him, and he had a kinder heart than anyone he had met.
"At least let me put my pants on first," Percival pleaded. "Anyway, aren't some of your creatures out?"
"No one dangerous."
"We don't want to frighten her," Percival warned, and after a moment Newt relented, rushing off to usher some of the larger beasts back into the case.

Once the larger of their pets had been safely tucked away, Percival and Newt headed into MACUSA. Newt reluctantly left his case behind, because he was aware Modesty could accidentally lash out and hurt someone.

Percival rested his hand on Newt's arm.
"She has been assigned a witch to care for her, and she is being treated well."
"She is in a cell."
"I know. But they were worried she would be dangerous. That's why I was able to persuade Seraphina to let us care for her - you're the world's expert on obscurials, and I am...I have a lot of practice when it comes to fighting and dealing with dark magic."

"And is she?" Newt asked. "An obscurial I mean?"
"From what they've been able to tell she's on the edge of turning. But it wouldn't take much to push her over."
"And you've kept her locked up?" Newt managed to look both unimpressed and angry. Had it not been aimed at Percival, he would have quite appreciated the look. As it was, he found himself feeling more than a little self-conscious.
"Let's just meet the witch that has been taking care of her," Percival insisted.

He lead Newt down into the cells, and as the two of them walked together he could see Newt's discomfort written on his face. He very much did not want to be here. Percival rested a hand on his arm.
"I'm me," he promised. Newt's nod was curt, but he glanced up at Percival after a moment, then reached for his hand. Percival let him hold on, hoping his touch would be anchoring.

When they approached the cell that Modesty Barebone was being held in, Percival stepped forwards, knocking on the locked door. It opened slightly, to reveal an older witch with black curls falling around her shoulders.
"Hello Director Graves."
"Witch Mulligan. May I speak with you?" Percival craned his neck, and caught sight of the room beyond. It was very different from a normal cell, specifically designed to put the young prisoner at her ease. There was a single bed, with a patchwork blanket upon it, and some books and toys within reach.

"Of course," the woman stepped back in. "Modesty, I've just got to talk to that man I've been telling you about, I won't be long... you'll be okay without me won't you?"
"Yes Miss Mulligan," came the girl's response, and the witch stepped through, closing the door.

"How is she reacting to being locked up?" Newt snapped. "Because to me that seems like the kind of behaviour that could provoke the obscurus."
"I don't think she's even noticed she's been locked up," Witch Mulligan answered. "She sits on her bed and sews and reads, and I've been helping her - that woman taught her nothing but lies. First few times the meals arrived, she near fainted at the amount of food there was. I swear, if I got my hands on that woman... she knew what little Modesty was, and she decided that was reason enough to hurt her. Didn’t care that she didn't ask for it. Just saw that the little girl had magic in her, and used it as an excuse... and the things that child has seen... it's a wonder she hasn't gone the same way as her brother."

Newt nodded, a pained expression passing across his face.
"Do you think she'll get better?"
"I think what she needs more than anything is time, and love. Being allowed out into the sun wouldn't hurt." Witch Mulligan answered, and Percival felt a little guilty for the girl's predicament. Still, they couldn't risk her exposing them to society, and hopefully with Newt and himself she would be able to settle.

"If all goes well, she'll be off to Ilvermorny in three years."
"Or Hogwarts," Newt protested. Percival smiled.
"Thought you were staying here? I doubt you want our child that far away."
Newt paused and squeezed his hand.

"Witch Mulligan?" Newt smiled at her. "You can come and visit her any time you want. Any time at all."
"Thank you Mister Scamander," She smiled at him a little sadly. "I'll miss the girl. But a cell ain't no place for a child, especially one who’s been trapped her whole life. She'll be happier with you."
"Can we meet her?" Percival asked, wanting to get that first meeting out of the way. He was ready for her to reject him, aware of the kind of thing her first adoptive mother had told her about the magical community.

"Of course you can. You just stay back a little to start with okay? We don't want to crowd her none."
Newt smiled, and he followed Witch Mulligan through the door, standing to one side, his gaze down and entire pose radiating a lack of threat. After a moment Percival joined him - it was clear Newt was the one with experience here. The little girl was sitting on the bed in a pale blue dress, trimmed with darker blue ribbons, and a flower on her pocket which changed colour every few seconds. She was smiling down at a picture book, watching a dragon race across the pages, but as Percival and Newt walked in she looked up, her eyes wide with hope and fear.

Witch Mulligan sat down on the bed beside her, her posture relaxed as she began to introduce everyone.
"This is Mister Scamander," Witch Mulligan explained. "He works with magical animals. Just last night Modesty was telling me she wanted a kitten, you think you could do something about that Mister Scamander?"
"I'm sure I can." He agreed, crouching down a little so that he could more easily make eye contact with her.

"And this is Director Graves. He's an important man, he's like a police officer."
"Are you going to arrest me?" Modesty asked. Those were the first words she had spoken to either of them, and Percival felt his heart ache.
"I don't arrest children."
"Not... not even children that do bad things?" she whispered. "Because I... I was angry at Ma for belting Credence, and I wanted her to go away. And sometimes if I want things to happen, they do."
"That wasn't your fault Modesty," Percival told her, as firmly as he could manage. "I know it must have been very scary for you, but it isn't your fault."

"I'm not going to prison forever?"
"I promise you aren't," Percival agreed. "You can come home with Newt and me if you want. Or you can stay here, and we can see what else we can find to make you happy. If you don't like it with Newt and me, you can come back here, and you can see Witch Mulligan whenever you want."

"Miss Mulligan," Modesty said firmly. "is a nice woman. She's been helping me to embroider."
"Could you show me?" Newt asked, and Modesty reached under the bed, pulling out a small cross stitch pattern of a house with flowers in the garden. It wasn't particularly talented work, but it had clearly taken some time. "That looks wonderful."
"Thank you. Before I made a sampler... it had a list of all the sins. There was adultery, blasphemy, cursing, divorce, envy, forni-"
"Thank you," Percival held up his hand, trying to stop that list. He hated hearing how her mind had been twisted already. "I think this one is much prettier, don't you think that?"
Modesty nodded.

Newt smiled at her.
"So, have you had a kitten before?"
"No. But I want one," Modesty said. "Ma says that they're bad creatures because they're linked to w-i-t-c-h-e-s and m-a-g-i-c," she explained, spelling out the words with a nervous glance around the room. "But if you are, then maybe.... and in my old room mice used to... to scare me by running over the floorboards in the middle of the night, and a kitten would keep them away."
"Okay," Newt smiled, and Percival could see how hard he was finding it to look calm. "I'll see what I can do."

Modesty nodded, approaching cautiously, then squeaking and hiding behind Witch Mulligan.
"What's wrong Modesty?"
"There's a spider on him!" she squeaked. Newt looked down, trying to see a spider. Pickett clambered further out of his pocket to look, then climbed up to sit on Newt's shoulder.
"I don't see any spider," Newt reassured her.
"It's on your shoulder!!!" she whimpered. Newt paused, realising what it was that she was seeing.
"This is Pickett. He's a bowtruckle and I promise he's not a spider. He's quite sweet really, do you want to meet him?"

She hesitated but nodded, and Newt coaxed Pickett onto his hand, carrying him over and holding him out to the little girl. She stared at him wide eyed, but brought up her hands so that he could climb across.
"What does he eat?"
"He eats woodlice. He's not very dangerous to a human, although if he's scared he can use his fingers to-"
"To poke people," Percival said firmly. He was fairly sure the young girl had been traumatised enough without Newt going into graphic detail on bowtruckle defensive behaviour. No one needed to know that.

"Hello Pickett," Modesty said, and Pickett seemed to relax. After a few moments she handed him back to Newt.
"Thank you Mister Newt."
"Don't you worry," he smiled. "So has Witch Mulligan said more about us?"
"She said you can't have children, and that you wanted to look after me so I have a family."
"That's right," Percival agreed. "I know we can't replace the people you lost."
Modesty nodded, and closed her eyes, lips moving in a silent prayer.

After a few moments she looked up at the two of them.
"Will you come back tomorrow?"
"We'll come back," Newt promised. "And we'll make sure you've got a good room for if you come home."
"She can take all this with her," Witch Mulligan promised. "It's hers. The dresses too."

Modesty nodded, her face serious. Percival's heart ached, certain that the young girl had already seen more than a child ever should.
"I hope you'll be happy with us Modesty," he told her sincerely. She looked up at him, her eyes shining.
"Can I wear pretty dresses? Ma said vanity was a sin but Witch Mulligan made me some lovely dresses..."
"You can wear whatever you feel good in," Newt said quickly. "We want you happy."

She wrapped her arms around Newt's waist for a moment, but then went back to sitting on the bed, her head bowed.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Take care," Percival said fondly before walking away, feeling hopeful.