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Graves awoke with a languid yawn and luxurious stretch, and while he would be quite happy to do so any other time, it was currently the middle of the day and he was at work. He couldn’t remember much, a flash of light and an imperiused auror being dragged out of his office before everyone left and he unceremoniously passed out on his desk. Opening his eyes, he took stock of the situation; his office wasn’t damaged, just a few scuffs on the floor and a wrinkled rug from the struggle and a pungent smell in the air; one of ozone, one that he knew to associate with dark magic. The question was, why could he smell it? He couldn’t usually, unless…
Graves sighed. Or he made a sound as close to sighing as a cat could, and dropped his head when it came out as a meow. Of all things, he was in his Animagus form. He couldn’t remember transforming, so that flash of light must have changed him. He focused his mind on the image of his human form, the feel of pomade on his fingers and in his hair, and the smooth feeling of tailored fabric against his skin and… nothing. No slight stretching feel as he turned back into his regular self, and his noise of complaint still came out as a plaintive meow.
Trying again, and again, and again, only to slump back when nothing happened, Graves wished that no one tried to find him, but knew it was futile. At least Seraphina knew what his form was, so as soon as she saw him, she would be able to craft a story about an illness or some such, never mind the fact that he hadn’t taken a day off since the Grindelwald Incident, as he liked to call it. Just the fact that he was transformed at work would be enough to tip Seraphina off, he hoped. They knew each other well, and Seraphina was exceptionally observant, so he had all faith that this little problem of being stuck as a great big domestic cat would blow over just fine.
Who was he kidding. It had been 2 days, and the aurors were panicking, despite Seraphina telling them that he was fine and merely taking a small break. It was touching to se that they cared for him so much, but still, it was incredibly annoying. Not to mention the amount of attention he got when he walked in that morning. The MACUSA receptionist even had the audacity to shoo him! Of course, she had stopped those attempts when he had simply jumped up on her desk and stared in her face before hissing and jumping away. It may have been petty, but being the breed he was, (a Maine coon, very large for a domestic cat and quite intimidating), had its advantages.
Except, it seems, with one Newton Scamander. After the whole fiasco with Grindelwald, Scamander’s beasts, Credence Barebone, and the No-Maj, Scamander had been asked to stay on at MACUSA by Seraphina herself, and a new sub-division of the magical security branch was created; Control and Conservation of Magical Creatures. Unfortunately, this entire division was run by Scamander himself, along with the Goldstein sisters. Therefore, the place was an absolute disaster, and quite frankly an affront to his senses.
But no. That didn’t stop a certain Newton Scamander from cooing over him the second he lay eyes on him, nor did it stop the petting or him being picked up and brought into a messy office to be fawned over and pet for hours on end as Scamander fed his creatures, wrote notes for his second book, or, Mercy Lewis forbid, actually did his paperwork
“You really are a darling creature, aren’t you?” Graves’ ears perked, and he lifted his head from where I had been resting against his front paws. It had been a week since he had been transformed, and he was beginning to lose hope, and had stopped resisting Newt’s advances, nor the catlike reaction he had towards them. Purring in agreement, he was allowed his vanity after all, he padded over to Newt from his position on the edge of the desk and sat himself down on the man’s paperwork, staring right into his eyes.
Newt however, was busy looking over the cat that had strolled into his life. Firstly, and most notably, it was massive, over a foot tall and rather bulky, and its fur was incredibly thick and dark, except for the area at the side of its ears where it faded to grey. Its eyes were a piercing yellow that simply drew him in, and its paws where so soft that Newt often couldn’t stop himself from squishing the paw pads every now and then.
“You seem so very intelligent for a regular domestic cat, its quite charming.” Newt mused, reaching for the cat’s chin and beginning to scratch at it, smiling when instead of resisting his affections, it simply closed its eyes and began purring loudly. At first, the cat had hissed at him, and had even scratched his hand a few times when he had went to stroke it. Eventually it, he, warmed up to him and begun seeking affection, of which he was all too happy to give. In fact, as he could see no collar, and the cat had hung around MACUSA for the last week with no one asking for him, Newt concluded that he was a stray, albeit a decently fed and looked after one.
Rubbing his hand over the top of the cat’s head, Newt hummed before making up his mind. “What do you say to coming home with me, hm? I have my own little apartment now that I work here and I think you’ll like it. There’s central heating and lots of surfaces to climb on.”
Graves blinked slowly, processing what Newt had said. He wanted him to go home with him. To his apartment. Where he lived. Graves’ mind crashed out somewhere around the middle of Newt’s sentence, imagining the homely trappings of MACUSA’s resident magizoologist. Over the past week, he had learned things about Newt Scamander that he had never thought he would. His favourite colour was dark green, not the blue or black or yellow that he often wore. He was ambidextrous, although he favoured his right hand for writing, and his left for drawing. His favourite food, disgustingly enough, was beef jelly sandwiches. Graves had honestly puked the first time he saw Newt eating that monstrosity, and it didn’t get any easier as he had them every single day.
However, coming from Scamander, these little quirks seemed almost endearing, it made him even more unique than he already was, and he felt weirdly privileged to know these things about the other that not a lot of people did, as Newt had a tendency to ramble when feeding his creatures or petting him, and things just seemed to slip out.
His lack of response didn’t seem to bother Newt, and in no time at all, he was being picked up alongside Newt’s suitcase and being carried out of MACUSA, the receptionist even thanking Newt for sorting out the problem with the “devil cat” stalking the building. He simply hissed at her again and felt rather happy when she flinched away. Newt patted him on the head and scolded him, telling him to be nice to her, she didn’t mean it, and if she knew the real him, she would be just as enchanted as he was.
Before he knew it, Newt had put him down outside a non-descript door not too far from his own apartment, and had opened the door to a surprisingly neat and homely room. It seemed that Newt only created a health hazard of mess in places where he worked, as the living room was clean and cosy, dark wood floors and brown sofas that looked incredibly inviting. It was at that moment, that Percival Graves knew that he was completely and utterly fucked.
Newt’s hair shone in the afternoon light pouring in from the window on a rare sunny day curls brushing his forehead, the dark comfort of the room making him stand out even more than usual. His bright freckles dusted over his high cheekbones and a thin nose brought attention to his face, plush lips curved into a small smile at something deeper in the apartment, eyes half closing as he suddenly grinned. Oh. Oh no. Percival felt his heart flutter in his chest, and his eyes widened.
The moment ended as quick as it began as Newt jogged into the kitchen and grabbed Dougal by the waist and slung him up over his shoulders. “Now, what are you doing out of the case so quickly, hm? You’re usually asleep now, what’s got you curious?” In response, Dougal simply pointed at the cat, and Newt waved him off with a simple introduction, however Percival was still stock still.
He couldn’t be developing feelings for this… this human disaster, could he? Newt barely remembered to dress himself correctly or fix his clothes after dealing with his creatures, and more often than not went without food (although the less of those sandwiches Percival saw, the better). He was orderly and in control, he wouldn’t suit someone as spontaneous and almost wild as Newt Scamander. And yet, the thought of it was so appealing. Waking up next to Newt in the morning, sharing lazy morning kisses before either of them had to get ready for work, meeting up for their lunch breaks to grab something to eat together, leaving MACUSA to go home to their shared apartment. It sounded blissful and stable, and that was something that Percival longed for. A companion and partner to share his life with.
Shaking himself out of his shock induced reverie, Percival decided that he wouldn’t confront it, plain and simple. These feelings were bound to be temporary, and besides, Newt could never love someone like him, so what was the point? He’d only get his hopes up to be disappointed as he was inevitably turned down or rejected. He was a broken man after what had happened, and no one would want his nightmares or flashbacks to deal with.
He meowed in surprise when Newt picked him up, having caught him unawares, and settled down once more as the man began to write letters, presumably to Theseus or other family members or friends. The sound of a quill scratching against parchment soothed his troubled thoughts and the revelation that he may or may not like Newt, and he felt his eyes drift shut as he fell into a light slumber. He awakens groggily to a candlelit study room, and Newt standing and stretching, revealing a small sliver of his stomach, equally as freckled as his face. Looking away, Percival resolutely did not think about where else those freckles went, and hopped off the desk to follow Newt.
They ended up in his bedroom, curtains already drawn and bed made and with a few simple spells, Newt had removed his clothes, donned his nightshirt, and gotten into bed, patting the mattress beside him. Taking the invitation for what it was, Percival told himself that one night in a warm bedroom instead of his rather cold office at MACUSA wouldn’t kill him, and he subconsciously curled up closer to the warmth of Newt’s presence.
Newt awoke before dawn, weak morning light peeking through his curtains as he shifted under his quilts before freeing. He was warm. Too warm in fact, and rolling over, he felt a solid presence behind him. Gulping, Newt opened his eyes, and squeaked in surprise. Right there, in his bed, lay Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security, his boss, and his crush, naked as the day he was born. Oh god. Percival Graves was naked, right next to him, his legs resting against Newt’s thighs, and his breath tickling his ear. Newt flushed deep red, and tried to stealthily extract himself from his bed without waking the other, with no luck.
As soon as he moved, Percival stirred and awoke, staring at Newt for a second before realising what was happening.
“I – Director, Mr. Graves, what – what are you doing in my bed?” Newt wanted to hide himself away for eternity, or at least let the floor swallow him up for a few months or so, he was still bright red and he couldn’t stop stuttering.
“I think I have some explaining to do Newt. You see, I was the cat you brought home last night. Do you remember the ruckus about a week back, when one of the aurors was cursed?” At Newt’s nod, he continued, “Well, I was hit by some unknown spell, and before long, ended up collapsing at my desk, awaking in my animagus form unable to transform back.” Percival rubbed the back of his neck, realising now just how awkward the situation was, and as if just realising he was still naked, tugged the blanket further up his body.
“So, the – the very affectionate and prideful cat I had for the last few days was you? Why didn’t you try to contact someone?”
Hearing it put that way, Percival wanted to blush and hide himself a little, realising that he could have easily spelled something out, or even dragged a stick in some mud if he was truly desperate to tell Newt that it was him, and not an actual cat. Percival buried his face in his hands for a second, before looking up to a flushed and embarrassed, yet slightly amused Newt, who was in nothing but his nightshirt.
Heat pooled low in his gut and Percival strived to stop his reaction to the lovely sight, the white fabric appearing slightly sheer in the morning light as it brushed against Newt’s knees. His appearance has Percival swallowing and looking to the side, Newt picking up on his behaviour.
“Are you okay, Mr. Graves? You look… confused? No, that’s not it, conflicted? Is something the matter?”
And of course, there Newt had to go with his frankly adorable bluntness regarding social situations. It was so endearing, and Percival knew what he was about to do was beyond reckless and would probably break the tentative bond that had formed during Percival’s time as a cat, but Newt was just so cute…!
In the end, Newt ended up kissing Percival first, the other man stood in front of him with the bedsheet wrapped around his waist, face so close to his he could feel Percival’s breath on his mouth, frozen with anxiety. Newt’s lips parted, and his tongue darted out, deepening the kiss, gasping into it as Percival nibbled his bottom lip. Percival pulled away first, only to nuzzle into Newt’s neck and ask that he kept up the petting, as it felt very nice to have slim fingers carding through his hair.
Percival and Newt didn’t show up to work that day. Or the next.