Chapter Text
In June, Graves receives a letter.
It was a quiet Saturday morning, one of his few good days, and it leaves him uneasy when he sees the name on the front. He hasn’t yet sent his daily letter to his children, so why Arlene’s mother would be sending him a letter now has his stomach suddenly churning. He was suspecting as much, he reminds himself, as he tears into the envelope and first reads over the letter. It’s still a relief to know it’s something so simple. Mabel is just requesting a list of Theodore’s closest friends. Arlene’s parents are planning a party for his upcoming birthday, and she wants those his son cares about there.
It’s not that he’d forgotten his youngest child’s birthday was in two weeks. He was acutely aware of this fact. It’s more that he had decided, stubbornly, not to think about it. His son is turning seven in two weeks and he won’t be seeing him.
He pretends like this doesn’t hurt, though there is no one to see that it does.
Arlene had always hated organizing events of any kind, so Percival usually planned everything. She teased that it was his obsessive need to make sure everything was in its proper place that made him so good at it. That if he was ever fired from MACUSA (because Merlin knows he would never quit or retire) he could become an event planner and probably be perfectly content with his life. He’d never admit that she was probably right. Theodore’s sixth birthday party had, of course, been perfect and meticulously planned, and at the end of which everyone had agreed it was the best party for a six-year-old they had ever been to. His son had enjoyed himself, and that’s what counted. What Percival remembers most, though, isn’t the party, but the day of his son’s actual birthday.
It was a Friday and he had planned to work (as usual), and return home for a nice dinner (a little nicer than usual), and enjoy a small birthday cake with his family (less usual). In the morning, as he had pulled on his suit jacket, Arlene had stopped him, kissed him softly, and told him he wasn’t going into work today. She’d already sent a notice to Deputy Director Finley letting her know that Percival was going to miss work.
Oh, where exactly was he going then?
Apparently, that would be up to him to decide, but he was spending it with Theodore, and he wasn’t allowed to protest.
Not that he would, but he still gave her an exasperated look over having gone over his head rather then ask him straight up.
The day is spent at the whim of his youngest, who is as coordinated and focused as any child his age would be. Which is to say, not at all. The boy is very much like his mother in the fact that he is extremely curious and questions, literally, everything. But he is also very much like his father in the fact that he is extremely single minded when he zeroes in on something he wants. In this case, it’s the zoo. The No-Maj one in Central Park, to be specific. At first Percival is unsure about this, but he really can’t say no. After all, it’s Theodore’s birthday, and he has been “extra extra good all month, please please please Daddy?”
He really can’t say no.
They spend an inordinate amount of time looking at animals despite the lackluster setup. Theodore manages to power through hours of running about, asking every question that he can think of, and dragging Percival right along behind him. He stays at it way longer than he normally would, and by the time they head home there were dirty fingerprint stains on the sleeves and hotdog grease on the collar of Percival's nicest overcoat, and his son passed out on his shoulder. That night, after dinner and cake, Theodore is reluctant to let go of Percival as he sets him to bed.
“Daddy, that was the bestest day ever.” He says, half asleep yet completely matter of fact. Percival thinks so too.
It’s one of the few memories he clings to tightly when, five days later, Grindelwald comes to steal his face.
Graves writes up that list for Mabel. It isn’t very long, his son gets along just fine with other children, he just prefers to be close with only a few. It’s a list of eight, three of which are the Rosental children. While Theodore is closer with the youngest girl, the three children are practically cousins to his own and its been so long since they’d seen each other, he imagines it will do them all some good.
He doesn’t ask if he’s allowed to come. Instead, Graves settles on asking if Theodore would be accepting of a gift. While something like a present would seem harmless to anyone, Graves is aware that his children are going through something that would be hard on even the strongest adults. He flinches at his own reflection some days, and during particularly stressful times, even his own gruff voice startles him. A gift from him could help or it could negatively affect his children. He’d rather Grindelwald torture him for the rest of his life then willingly hurt his children.
He sends the letter and waits.
Feeling restless, he spends some time scrubbing his townhouse from top to bottom by hand. He keeps the townhouse spotless, so it doesn't necessarily need it but it's something to do. There is one particular stain that has driven him crazy since the day he moved into the place. It was left by the previous owners and he has absolutely no idea what it was, but it’s on the wall, right above the front door and it catches his eye every morning on his way out. He’d put something over it but he’s determined to get it, and he honestly doesn’t know what he’d put there anyway.
Mabel eventually replies that he should send something, that it would be a good idea. Not just for Theodore, but for Graves.
He leaves the stain and goes about his normal Saturday routine, writing his letter to his children, reviewing his department's most recent case, and pretending to relax and read a book later in the evening. Mabel responds sometime during the day that they are now accepting the letters but still not reading them. It’s better than their flat-out refusal of before, and Graves counts it as a small victory.
Part way through preparing dinner, he realizes he has no clue what to give his son. He’s back at the stain not long after.
On Monday, Newt returns from a week-long trip to South America. Graves is relieved to see him again. Not being able to see those he feels close to for extended periods of time tends to make him feel unsettled. He’s gotten into the habit of leaving his office door open specifically for this reason. Though it might also have something to do with the fact that the sight of closed doors often makes him feel light headed. He’s been getting better. But it’s still nice to see his new… friend, after a week of him being gone. Auror Goldstein informs him in the morning and she has a look about her that leaves Graves feeling as if there is something she knows but isn’t telling him.
The magizoologist shows up unannounced at lunchtime, and Graves is barely allowed to put up a weak protest as he’s dragged from his work and off to lunch. Goldstein gives an awkward look at him, somewhere between worried and secretive, from over the top of a case file. She must have mentioned something to Newt, because at lunch the man doesn’t even hesitate.
“You should get him a pet.” Graves is thrown by the comment, but Newt is like that. He starts conversations expecting people will follow along without him having to lead into it. None of that fluff of unnecessary small talk or setting up the conversation. The efficiency of it is something Graves usually appreciates and he has gotten very adept in catching up to Newt’s conversations, but this time the non-sequitur has him giving Newt a confused look. The man isn’t looking at him as he is feeding the Bowtruckle some woodlice. When he does there's an uncomfortable expression on his face, cheeks slightly pink and a vague, awkward hand motion as if to sweep Graves’ look aside as he explains. “I’ve been doing research on the benefits of keeping pets. Specifically, with soldiers who suffer from Shell Shock. I’ve found that having an animal companion is good for helping them deal with their trauma. You should get your son a pet.” It’s not the explanation he had been expecting, and the casual use of the word trauma makes his stomach twist. But it’s the best idea he’s heard so far, and the more he thinks about it, the more he likes it.
When Percival and Arlene had gotten married they had thought about getting a familiar or animal companion of some kind. Something to take care of and make their new home feel a bit more… homey. However, when they went to the menagerie in Prospero Circle to pick one out they ran into complications. Arlene liked birds just fine, but she felt bad about getting an owl as they deserved to be flying about, and in New York City that was just too suspicious. Rats were out of the question, Arlene thought they were adorable, but Percival knew that the rats were picked up off the street (and out of the sewer) and not bred. They went for the last traditional witch pet, and settled on a kitten. Arlene and Percival both fell in love with the one they had picked up and were excited to take it home. That is until Arlene began sneezing and her eyes watered so bad that they wouldn’t clear up for another two days. Both of them knew there was a potion of some sort that could help with allergies, but it was tedious despite its simplicity. Neither really had the time that would be necessary to make it so they, disappointed, went home.
When their oldest was three, she loudly proclaimed she wanted a pet and thought it exceedingly unfair that Uncle Oliver had gotten a cat for his daughter, Freda, for her birthday, and why hadn’t Percival gotten one for Everett? They seriously considered it, perhaps they should get her something small, it would help teach her responsibility. They even deliberated on getting a Puffskein, despite how close that could be to breaking a rule, but that ended up falling through. They found out Arlene was pregnant not long after, and their daughter had decided a younger sibling was just as good as a pet, and plus, Freda didn’t have one of those so it worked out in the end.
Graves spent a lot of time going through the notes Newt was letting him borrow, wanting to find something that would be good for Theodore. He had sent a letter to Mabel making sure that they wouldn’t mind helping with a pet. She thought it was a wonderful idea and she knew Theodore would love whatever he got. Graves was sure of it too. But he wanted to it to be perfect. When he finally settled on one, he asked Newt where he would get his hands on a Kneazle. The other man had frowned, perhaps a little disappointed that Graves hadn’t picked something more exotic, or perhaps because a triple X ranked pet for a seven-year-old might not be a good idea. Actually, he was just trying to remember if he knew someone in the area that would be able to get one for Graves on such short notice.
“Kneazle’s are hardly that dangerous. I grew up with Hippogriffs, Mr. Graves, and they are far more temperamental than a Kneazle .” Theodore’s birthday was only a week away at this point, and he knew that he was going to be cutting it close, but he wanted it to be perfect .
Despite agreeing that a Kneazle would be a fine pet for a seventh birthday present, Newt did wonder on why Graves chose the cat like creature. The answer was simple to him. It looked just like a normal cat, or enough like one, to allow his son to let the creature out of the house if he so wished. As well as take it with him anywhere he desired without upsetting any No-Maj’s or MACUSA’s laws. Knowing Theodore, he would want to take his new pet everywhere. Newt thought Theodore sounded like a right young chap. But also, because of one of Newt’s scratchy notes that had been crammed into one corner of one of the last pages:
Highly intelligent, independent. Uncanny ability to detect suspicious and distrustful people. Can be aggressive towards these individuals.
Newt is delighted by this fact, because it means that Graves read every note he’d written.
On the day of Theodore’s birthday, Graves receives a note from the man that Newt was able to get a hold of. One newly house broken Kneazle kitten and all necessary supplies have been delivered to the proper address. The man says nothing else in his missive. None of the important things that Graves wants to hear. Did he give the gift directly to Theodore? How did he look? Was he happy? Or did his daughter take the boxes from this stranger? Did she look well? Was she smiling? Or did Mabel take everything from him at the door, and surprise Theodore with it herself?
He’s scrubbing at the stain by lunch time, and he’d have kept at it if Newt hadn’t shown up unexpectedly. Graves almost doesn’t let the younger man in. He’s suspicious about the random house call and how Newt even knew his address. He’s already got so much on his mind at the moment he almost tells the man to go back to Goldstein’s place.
He opens the door and offers him something to drink instead.
Newt declines the offer, setting up his suitcase on the coffee table and beckoning Graves down into it. It’s the first time he’s been invited inside, and he hesitates long enough that Newt pops his head back up over the side and gives him a lopsided grin.
“It won’t bite, I promise.” He means the suitcase, but Graves wonders if any of the creatures inside will, and wonders if he’s more worried about the creatures or the small confined space he is about to enter. He climbs in. The entering of the suitcase, and the little shack that the ladder leads down into feel tight and cramped and Graves almost turns back around and leaves right then and there. He follows Newt out into the suitcase proper with very little prompting.
“They would love this.” Is the first thought that comes to his head, and he doesn’t realize he’s said it aloud until Newt says:
“I’d love to have them, you can bring them down sometime.” And he says it so easily, without any hint of insincerity, as if he fully expects that there will come a day when Graves will have his children to be able to bring them down here.
It’s at this moment that he realizes he likes Newt.
When Newt heads home, it’s late and Graves, surprisingly, feels relaxed enough to fall asleep, despite not having heard from Mabel. When he wakes in the morning he eagerly awaits Mabel’s letter but refuses to fret or sit around doing nothing. He debates doing some more cleaning, but decides against it. He ignores the stain as he comes down the stairs.
He's pouring over the newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee when a pigeon taps at the kitchen window. He’s not so surprised to see a letter from Arlene’s mother.
What does surprise him is finding not one letter inside the envelope, but two. He opens the one with his name written on it in Mabel’s small script first. Tucked neatly in between the parchment folds, a picture slides out. It has his breathing stuttering in his throat as he picks up the picture of his son desperately trying to wrangle a Kneazle kitten into sitting still long enough to take a picture. Though the little creature does not want to sit still, it seems to like Theodore enough, and his son is unable to keep his grin in check, despite the Kneazle not doing what he wants. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, just staring at the moving face of his son. The boy is saying something, and the longer he stares the more he can make out the words:
“She’s perfect, I love her.”
It takes him a while to remember that there are actual words to the letters sent to him and he quickly reads the one in his hands. It’s shorter than normal, simply telling him that she isn’t sure about keeping, what can be, a dangerous creature as a pet. But she read all the notes Mr. Scamander had sent along with it and she instantly understood why he chose the cat like beast for Theodore. The boy loves his pet, she tells him, and she just had to get a picture. There were plenty more, but this is the only one that she managed to get them to stay in frame long enough to make for a good one. She could go on about the party, if she wanted, but she figured he’d like to hear it all from Theodore. This has him nearly tearing the other sheet of paper in his hurry to open it.
The writing is a little sloppy, as his son hates writing and thinks it’s boring and fought the entire time Graves had tried to teach him. But it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Its been nearly a year since he’s heard from or seen his children. And now he has a photo and a letter from his son. It’s nearly too much at once. He forces the emotions back and follows his son’s words with his fingertips.
Theodore meticulously tells him all about the party. Uncle Oliver’s kids are a bit sad but they were happy to see Everett and Theodore. His other friends were super happy to see Theodore too, and they told him how much they all had missed him. He got some really nifty gifts but none of them compared to Graves’ gift. Theodore nearly waxed poetry, as well as a seven-year-old can, over his pet. She was a silvery grey color with bright yellow eyes and the puff on her tail was extremely soft. She was super curious and spent all day exploring the house before deciding it was a good house and standing sentry in the doorway of whatever room Theodore was in. She had taken to Theodore about as quickly as he had taken to her and loved being scratched along her jaw. He wasn’t quite sure what to name her yet, and had started calling her with a simple “hey, you” whenever he needed her. The letter ends with Theodore thanking him for the bestest present ever and asking if it’s alright that he start sending letters to Graves.
There’s a simple “love you” at the bottom.
He reads the letter practically every hour for the rest of the day. It and the picture never leave his side.
The next morning, before heading into work he buys a small picture frame, big enough for the picture to just barely fit inside and charms it to protect the photo from any sort of damage. An explosion would be the only way to even put a scratch on it. The photo and the letter go into the inside pocket of his vest, and his team catch glimpses of him smiling at a small photo several times throughout the day.