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The old, cluttered bookshop seemed to creak and groan in response to the harsh wind outside that was busy throwing snow around. Newt happily ignored it, instead rubbing his arms to warm himself faster as he searched for a book that he’d read a few years back, vaguely remembering there being an entire chapter about magical insects. He moved through the store slowly, picking up and moving his suitcase every so often to keep it in reach.
He pulled a couple books out from the shelves, flipping through them deftly before replacing them. One book spat dust into his face when he opened it, making him cough. The shopkeeper gave him a slightly annoyed look from behind the counter. Newt responded with an apologetic smile and moved on to the next shelf.
Newt was so preoccupied with trying to find the right book that he didn’t notice there was another person in the shop until he quite literally bumped into the man. Newt fumbled with the book in his hands and barely managed to catch it before it fell.
“I’m so sorry,” said Newt, putting the book back on the shelf. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“It’s quite alright,” the man responded, and something about his voice made Newt look at him full on.
Newt blinked a couple times to make sure he was seeing who he thought he was seeing, but the man was unmistakable to him at this point. “… Graves?” he asked quietly.
Graves glanced up from the book in his hands. “What about graves? Are you trying to find a book about them?”
“No, not cemetery graves,” Newt responded. “Percival Graves. You’re him. Here in London. Why are you in London?”
Graves quirked a slightly uncomfortable smile at him. “I think you’re mistaking me with someone else. My name’s not Percival Graves.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s, uh-” Graves cut himself off, putting the book in his hands back on the shelf with a strange look on his face. “You know what, you don’t really need to know that.”
“You don’t remember your name,” said Newt gently. “Do you remember how you got to London? How long you’ve been here?”
Graves shot Newt a look, and seemed like he might respond, but then moved past him towards the door.
“What about Grindelwald?” Newt called out softly. “Ugly man with blonde hair?”
Graves froze, the outline of his back under his coat gone rigid. He turned back to Newt with a dark expression on his face. “Say that name again.”
Newt hesitated, looking not at Graves but at the row of books next to his shoulder. “Grindelwald. Do you know him?”
Graves approached Newt again. “I’ve heard that name before. And I don’t like it; it makes me angry for some reason. Who is he? And who are you?”
Newt glanced around, still not meeting Graves’ eye. “I’m Newt Scamander, Mr. Graves. I can tell you about Grindelwald, but I’d rather not talk about it here. There’s a lot to discuss. You’ve no memory of your past self, apparently.”
Graves eyed him suspiciously but behind it was a flash of curiosity. “We can talk at my apartment.”
Newt nodded, picking up his suitcase. Graves glanced at it but didn’t say anything, heading out the bookstore with Newt following behind him, the snow encapsulating them both. It didn’t occur to Newt until he was already stepping into Graves’ flat that this could well be a trap. Who was to say that Grindelwald couldn’t still have his own tricks at his disposal?
But this Graves just shut the door behind Newt quietly and sat down at his kitchen table with a sigh. Newt sat down across from him, setting his suitcase by his feet. In this lighting, he could see the dark circles under Graves’ dark eyes and the way his cheeks were just beginning to sink inward.
“You’ve known something was off this whole time, haven’t you?” Newt asked delicately.
Graves was silent a moment, staring down at the table. “I don’t remember how I got here- to London, to this apartment. I just woke up one day to someone knocking at my door, telling me I’m late for my job at a bank down the street. Everyone knew me there, but for some reason I couldn’t remember ever seeing any of them before. There was even a nameplate on a desk telling me what my name was supposed to be, but it didn’t seem to fit no matter how much I told myself it should.”
Graves suddenly slumped over the table, resting his head on his hand. “And then I keep having these dreams, like memories from another life. One of them that I’ve had more than once has that man you described, Grindelwald. I know his name. It’s been in the back of my mind through this whole thing. He’s the one who’s done all of this to me, constructed a life for me that’s so fake I should’ve seen through it earlier.”
Newt stared at Graves, a defeated and hurting man who’d lost more than he knew. It pained Newt to have to be the one to tell him everything that happened in New York, how Grindelwald had stolen his face and his life for weeks.
“Tell me,” Graves gritted out. “I want to know what he did. What Grindelwald did. He took something from me and I want to know what it is.”
Newt studied him for a quick second, wringing his hands together beneath the table. Then he launched into the story, trying to make it as detailed as he could to jog Graves’ memory. He also let Graves know that they’d found Credence, and he was staying with Tina and Queenie. When Newt had finished his retelling, Graves sat back and stared at the wall behind Newt without moving.
All of a sudden, Graves lashed out and hit the table with the side of his fist. Newt jumped at the sound, feeling the reverberation in his legs. Graves cradled his hand close to his chest and Newt could see it turning light red.
“I’m sorry,” Graves whispered as he stared at the spot on the table he’d hit. Then he turned his gaze to Newt, a surprising softness sitting in his eyes. “None of my anger is directed at you. It’s a lot to take in, but I think I can remember most of what happened now. So, thank you for that, Mr. Scamander.”
Newt nodded stiffly, letting out a breath he’d been holding. “I guess you’ll be heading back to New York, then? MACUSA’s had search parties sent out to find you there. No one thought you’d be across an ocean, which I guess is what Grindelwald assumed.”
Graves let out a bitter laugh. “Another man was parading around as me for weeks and no one even noticed. Who wants to go back to people who don’t care about you enough to realize that?”
“I don’t think it’s that they don’t care about you, Mr. Graves,” said Newt sincerely. “People can get used to their lives not changing, sometimes, and want it to stay that way, even if it means ignoring when someone around them starts to act a little different.”
“You sound as if you speak from experience,” Graves said, studying Newt from across the table.
Newt shifted in his chair, thinking back to when he started to act out as a child, wanting to be seen as his own individual instead of another form of his brother. Not that that got him anywhere, in the end. He had to learn that there’d always be some association attached to his brother that followed him around, but that didn’t have to stop him from being who he wanted to be.
Graves made a small noise and stood up, moving to the counter and pulling out a tea kettle. Newt watched in silence as Graves filled it with water and put it on the stove. Graves leaned back against the counter as the water boiled.
“So, what’s in that suitcase of yours?” Graves asked, subtly nodding towards the suitcase by Newt.
Newt instinctively put a hand on it. “It’s, um-”
“Something illegal?” Graves said with a raised eyebrow. He smiled slightly when Newt stuttered over his words again. “No need to worry, Mr. Scamander. I have no jurisdiction here, and I’m not going to report you to anyone.”
“You have to understand that what’s in this suitcase is very near and dear to me,” said Newt. “They may be illegal, but they’re not dangerous.”
Graves stared Newt down as the kettle started to whistle. “’They?’ Just what are you carrying around in that suitcase?”
Newt cleared his throat and pointed to the kettle next to Graves. Graves stared at Newt a moment more before taking it off the stove and cutting the flame.
“Would you like some tea?” Graves asked. “Whoever stocked this place left at least seven different kinds in the cupboards.”
“Some black tea would be nice, thank you,” Newt responded quietly.
Graves poured them both a cup and set the tea to steep. He handed a cup to Newt, who took it and placed it in front of him on the table, watching the water slowly turn darker. Graves sat back down across from him and stared into his own cup.
“I think Tina’s holding onto your wand while they look for you,” Newt said, trying to fill the silence.
“That’s good,” replied Graves, still staring into his cup. He frowned and looked up at Newt. “Are you actually planning on drinking that?” He pointed at Newt’s cup.
“I, uh, guess I was only going to have a sip or two to be polite,” Newt responded honestly.
Graves nodded. “Good, good.” He picked up his own cup, held his hand out far to his side, and let it drop to the floor and shatter, hot liquid spreading out across the floor.
Newt sat quietly as Graves took Newt’s cup and repeated the process. Then he stood up once more and opened all the cupboards, swiping cups and plates and glasses out of each one as he went. They all hit the counter or floor, shattering or breaking into large pieces.
Then Graves went into the sitting room and Newt watched through the doorway as he knocked everything breakable to the floor and overturned a chest of drawers. He disappeared into what Newt presumed was the bedroom, and more crashes resounded through the flat. Graves reemerged a few minutes later with a suitcase in hand and stood in the doorway to the sitting room, his face red and sweaty.
“Fuck this place,” Graves gritted out heavily. “Fuck Grindelwald.” His eyes caught Newt’s and he immediately lost all his gusto, seeming to collapse in on himself. He swiped a hand across his face. “God, I don’t think I can handle all of this. It feels like someone’s stuck a knife in my chest and I can’t get it out.”
Newt finally stood up, faced with a man who’d lost more than he could deal with. He was like an animal backed into a seemingly inescapable corner, desperately clawing at all that he could to find an escape.
Newt tentatively held his hand out to Graves. “Come stay with me until you figure out if you’re going back to New York.”
Graves opened and closed his mouth, shook his head like he was about to refuse. He looked at Newt’s hand, and instead took it, a silent agreement to Newt’s proposition.
Newt smiled at him softly. “Grindelwald has no control over your life anymore. It’s all you now.”
Graves took a deep breath and looked over the mess he’d made in the flat. “I know. I want you to take me away from here.”
***
“And right above you is a billywig. I’m sure you’ve heard of them, yes?” Newt said as he led Graves through the final part of the suitcase tour.
“Yes,” Graves mused, “MACUSA’s had its fair share of smugglers trying to get the things into New York. They were all arrested, of course, for having them in their possession.” He leveled Newt with an authoritative look.
Newt returned the look with an innocent smile. “I can assure you I won’t be trying to sell any of them off.”
“Like I said, I have no jurisdiction here.” A corner of Graves’ mouth quirked up. “Speaking outside of my duties as an auror, I find this all very fascinating. It’s impressive what you’ve done here. It takes quite a lot of power and skill to build all these habitats and keep them running.”
Newt ducked his head, his face heating up. “That’s very flattering, Mr. Graves. But I’m just trying to do what’s best for these creatures. It’s not a show of power or skill for me, just a need to do right by all of them.”
“That’s noble of you, Mr. Scamander. And, please, call me Percy. You have the right to do that after allowing me to stay at your apartment.”
Newt felt his face heat up even more. “It’s not… Call me Newt.”
“Also, let me cook dinner tonight,” said Graves. “Not that I’m trying to insult your cooking, but it terrified me a little bit last night when the pan caught fire with nothing in it. I still haven’t figured out how you managed to do that.”
Newt let out a small laugh. “I would be so relieved if you cooked, actually. I usually eat out, to tell you the truth. I haven’t cooked a full meal in about a year.”
Graves laughed, too, a playful and rich sound with no bitterness in it. “I appreciate your efforts, though.” He followed behind Newt as they exited the suitcase, going back into Newt’s flat. Graves had spent last night in the flat’s spare room- more of an oversized storage space, honestly- after Newt had offered to get him out of the flat Grindelwald had forced him into.
Newt fussed with Pickett and directed Graves to the right kitchen cabinets as he prepped to cook. It was odd having another person in his flat with him, sharing space that he’d claimed as his own long ago. But so far, Graves’ presence had felt less like an intrusion and more like a simple addition to Newt’s life, even if he’d only been here two days. Newt, despite his best effort not to think about it, liked having Graves around.
“So,” Graves said as he set pasta to boil and began to slice chicken to throw into a heated pan, “there’s a portkey back to New York. I can use it and be back at MACUSA tomorrow to stop the search parties. God knows how much work I’ll have to catch up on when I get back.”
Newt sat down on a stool and leaned his elbows on the counter-space opposite Graves, studying him as he added mushrooms and onion to the pan with chicken. The dark circles under his eyes had faded a bit and his whole body seemed looser, less like a bunched-up coil ready to explode outwards. Graves glanced at him.
“What?” Graves asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” replied Newt. “You look better, is all. You’re really ready to go back tomorrow?”
“My job- my real job- is in New York. I have an obligation to return to it. I can’t stay here for much longer.”
“Can’t or don’t want to?”
Graves paused, then threw in some seasonings with the chicken. “If I’m being completely honest with you, it’s neither. I don’t think I’m ready to go back yet. Last night, I had a nightmare. No, not a nightmare; it was a memory. I remembered Grindelwald kidnapping me right out of my own office, tying me up in an abandoned warehouse, and torturing me for information about my life and what I did at MACUSA.”
Newt watched as Graves’ frown deepened with each passing word. “You don’t want to be reminded of that every time you step into your office,” said Newt.
Graves grimaced. “Exactly.” He pulled the pot of pasta off the stove and drained the water through a colander at the sink, then transferred the pasta back into the pot. “I get the feeling that you know what it’s like to dread having to step into a certain room again.”
“Yes, I do,” Newt muttered. “I know it all too well.”
Graves transferred the chicken to the pot and began to stir it all together. “Am I correct in presuming it has to do with creatures like the ones in your suitcase?”
“Yes. Poachers and illegal traders, they’re cruel to the creatures they hunt and sell. I hate walking back into places where I’ve seen their cruelty in action.” Newt startled a little when Graves set a plate of pasta before him.
Graves apologized quietly for scaring him. He reached over again and squeezed a slice of lemon over the food before pulling back once more. Then he joined Newt on his side of the counter with his own plate.
“You’re a brave man, Newt,” said Graves. “I don’t think I could do what you do. You put yourself in the face of danger to save these creatures and take care of them.”
“I feel like you’re just on a mission to flatter me, Percy,” said Newt as his face got considerably warmer.
Graves gave Newt a playful smile and nudged him with an elbow. “Eat before your food gets cold.”
Newt smiled back and picked up his fork. “Can’t let unburned food go to waste, can we?”
***
Newt stood in the doorway of Graves’ makeshift room while he packed, fighting the urge to bite his nails. Graves shut the suitcase with an audible click. When he looked up, he only then seemed to register that Newt was there.
Newt let out a small sigh and rested his head against the doorframe. “If you decide not to stay in New York, I’ll be here in London for the next few weeks.”
“Thank you. I appreciate you letting me stay here, Newt.” Graves took hold of his suitcase. “If I’m not coming back, I’ll let you know.”
Newt nodded and stepped back out of the doorway to let Graves through. Graves slipped past him and headed for the door. Newt followed behind him, holding the door open for Graves.
Graves stepped out of the flat and turned around to face Newt. “Goodbye, Newt. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Newt forced himself to smile. “You, too, Percy. Be safe.”
“I feel like I should be the one telling you that,” Graves said with a small smile. Then he headed down the hallway, and Newt watched his retreating form until he disappeared around a corner.
Newt blew out a breath, closing the door. Who was he to be sad to say goodbye to a man he’d only known for a couple days? He shook his head to clear it, going into his bedroom. He opened his suitcase and went down into it to check on the creatures, looking to get lost for a few hours.
Graves’ absence didn’t go unnoticed around the flat. But Newt carried on his daily life for the next the weeks caring for the creatures, working on his book, and getting ready for his trip to Greece to try and collect more local folklore on merpeople. A day before he was set to leave, he got a letter from Graves.
Newt sat down at the kitchen counter and stared at the envelope in his hands for a long while. He eventually opened it, pulling out the letter inside. Graves, with his elegant and flowing script, informed Newt that he’d decided to stay in New York and thanked him again for taking him in for a couple days. On the back of the letter, a tiny note from Tina had been scribbled, telling him Credence was well, as was she and her sister.
Newt neatly refolded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. He let it fall to the counter, then stood up. He told himself he was happy that Graves was staying in New York because that was how it was supposed to work out. He’d write a letter back, expressing that supposed happiness.
“Damn it, Newt,” he whispered to himself, “you’ve only just met this man. Don’t get hung up on him.”
There was only so much time left before Newt was off to Greece, so he set to finishing his packing after writing a quick response to Graves. It kept his hands and his mind busy. Then the creatures needed to be checked on. One of the mooncalves had gotten sick, and Newt was still nursing it back to health. By the time he got through everything, it was almost midnight.
Newt fell into his bed with a sigh, wrapping himself up in a blanket. He shut his eyes and went through everything he needed for the trip in his head to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything accidentally. The monotony of it eventually lulled him to sleep.
***
Newt and Graves started sending letters back-and-forth detailing their current lives and their pasts over the next six months. Graves had mentioned it was good for his memory as he tried to keep everything pieced together. Current life was easy to talk about: creatures and book work for Newt, and MACUSA business for Graves. Both of them had been guarded about their pasts at first, not used to talking about themselves in that respect.
But then their dynamic had changed when Graves had freely mentioned that the family he grew up in had been strict and expected him to succeed like his ancestors before him. Newt had reciprocated with his own family story, and from then on they didn’t spare each other the details. Some of the letters they sent became as long as three pages of paper with scribbled-out thoughts filling every available space, and Newt wondered when he’d gotten so embroiled in Graves’ life, even when they were an ocean apart.
It seemed to Newt, for all he knew, that Graves was doing well in New York, back in his position as Director. There were only vague mentions of Grindelwald passed between them. Newt didn’t mind, though, and he suspected Graves didn’t either.
Newt had a letter waiting for him when he got back from a trip to Australia at the end of their sixth month apart. He dumped his stuff down unceremoniously when he got back to his flat before placing his suitcase full of creatures down gently. He pulled the letter out from his jacket pocket and opened it, walking towards the couch.
He’d only just begun to read it when someone knocked on his door. Newt stood up and walked over to the door to get rid of the visitor as quickly as possible so he could sit down for more than five seconds. He opened the door and opened his mouth to speak, but froze when he saw who was standing on the other side.
“Newt,” Graves said, looking slightly disheveled. “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced like this.”
“No, it’s- it’s fine.” Newt stood to the side and waved Graves into the flat before closing the door. He looked Graves over, noting the pronounced dark circles under his eyes and the way he carried himself like he was about to collapse. It was like when he’d first found the man, when Grindelwald had taken everything from him.
“I know I told you I’d decided to stay, and I truly believed I would, but I can’t do it. Not anymore,” Graves said softly. He looked around himself, at Newt’s stuff laying on the floor. “I thought you’d got back from Australia a couple days ago, but I guess I was wrong. I’m sorry, this was a bad time to show up.”
Newt approached Graves and tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a bad time, Percy. Come sit down and talk to me.”
Graves seemed ready to disagree, to say he’d leave and come back later, but Newt steered him to the couch. They sat down side-by-side, and Newt rested a hand on Graves’ knee lightly.
“In the letters I sent, I always said I was doing alright, but I wasn’t,” Graves muttered. “I think I was writing it over and over to assure myself. But every time I step into that building, into my office, I think of Grindelwald. Those first few days back in New York, I finally remembered everything he did to me when I was his captive. And to think he’d stepped right into my office, in a building I should’ve been safe in, and got to me… It’s all I can think about when I’m there.”
“So what are you going to do about your job?” Newt asked.
“I quit. I put in a good word for Tina so President Picquery might consider her for the position.” Graves glanced at Newt before taking Newt’s hand in his own.
Newt stared down at their hands, feeling calmer than he expected. “You did what was best for yourself, and there’s no shame in that. You can stay with me, if you want. I liked having you here.”
“That’s too much for me to ask,” Graves said. “You’ve already been so kind to me.”
“We’re… friends, though, aren’t we?” Newt murmured.
“I would say we are.”
“And this sort of thing isn’t too much to do for a friend.”
Graves gazed at Newt for a moment as if trying to find something hidden in his face. Newt realized the position he’d put them in, bodies touching and hands still clasped together on top of Graves’ knee. Maybe he was only freaking Graves out, maybe he should distance himself.
Newt stood up and tried to pull his hand away from Graves, but Graves held on.
“Newt,” said Graves, standing up as well. He stepped closer to Newt, leaving mere inches between them. “All those letters we’ve sent, telling each other things we haven’t spoken about to anyone else in years, there’s always been more to it, hasn’t there?”
Newt stared at the wall behind Graves’ shoulder. “I’m sorry if I overstepped some sort of line. I didn’t mean to.”
“No,” Graves said, “don’t apologize.” He leaned in further, resting his forehead against Newt’s, his breath warm on Newt’s cheek.
Newt had stopped staring at the wall, wondering how he’d fallen so easily for this man while they’ve been miles and miles apart. “I want to know you better,” he whispered.
“Me, too,” Graves responded. He tilted his head and his lips brushed against Newt’s.
Newt laid a hand on the back of Graves’ neck and pulled him in closer. Graves let go of Newt’s hand, gripping his waist, trying to get Newt as close to him as possible. Newt kissed him as deeply as he could, aching to know every part of Graves intimately, to be gripped tighter and pulled in closer.
Graves kissed Newt back fervently, and Newt nearly forgot to breathe. He knew almost everything about Graves, to the point that kissing him was like a familiar act. It was like returning to a place that he’d been visited many times before, remembering each nook and cranny as he came to it. As if he could say, yes, he grew up just to be able know all the hidden corners of someone that belonged to him long before he knew it.
Graves pulled away, and Newt gasped for air, feeling faint. But Graves’ hands held him up, grounded him. Newt rested his head on Graves’ neck as he caught his breath. Graves was breathing hard, too, and not uttering a word as he rested his cheek on top of Newt’s head. They both needed time to recover.
“So, does this mean you’re staying with me?” Newt asked after a long minute of silence. He lifted his head up to look Graves in the eye.
Graves let go of Newt’s waist to hold his cheeks, his thumbs ghosting over Newt’s cheekbones. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you tell me to.”
Newt nodded. Then he laughed a little, and Graves quirked an eyebrow at him.
“This means you’ll actually have to get to know my creatures,” Newt said. “And I’m going to make you help me take care of them. And there’s also the possibility of traveling with me. And-”
Graves laughed, too, his whole body free of tension. “Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen.”
Newt smiled gently and kissed Graves again softly. “I want us to make new memories like this. Good ones that we can write about.”
“I can make that happen.”