I want to request anything nsfw for gramander because I have A Need but if you're not up to it then maybe something soft ❤️
@powerbloggerjung Here it is! I’m so sorry this is late, and I hope you enjoy it!
Picture the absolute perfect day, where the sun’s raysshine lazily upon the ground, and where soft wind ruffles the green blades ofgrass into swaying movements. Picture rolling green hills that stretch fartherthan the eye can see, an infinite expanse going on and on and further still.Imagine now, if you can, the absolute stillness that comes from an absence ofhuman life, save for two specks sprawled over the grass, and the gentletrilling of birds that call to one another, and the very breath of Earth seepingthrough in rumbling, unnoticeable tremors.
It’s the most wonderfu day for lazy lounging and quietwhispers of I love you, and limbs arestrewn about languidly while insistent thoughts about work are left locked awayin the far recesses of both men’s minds. There’s a young Mooncalf percheddaintily next to Percival whose rumpled appearance sings of joy andcontentedness, that nibbles delicately on the man’s hair when his hand stopspetting her smooth coat. Pickett is grooming his red-headed human, littletwig-like appendages smoothing out any kinks in Newt’s flaming hair while theNiffler, in an extraordinary moment of docility and a (very) temporary absenceof kleptomaniac tendencies, is curling up very comfortably on Newt’s stomach.There are stretch marks on Newt’s white shirt, courtesy of the Niffler’s webbedfeet digging happily into the soft material, and Newt, who thinks he might bedrunk on this fountain of bliss, runs his fingers through velvety fur of thenormally troublesome creature.
There’s a moment when the sun glances off of Percival,and it is a quiet moment that is akin to enlightenment, Newt thinks, as hedrinks in the lines and curves of Percival’s handsome face, the gentle swellingof his Adam’s apple, the tantalising built of muscles hidden away under cloth,the lean hips that bear a mischievous tattoo. It’s all too much for Newt, whowonders if he should have the skills of an artist, Percival would be his museforever and more. There’s a flutter on his lips, and Newt blinks in confusionat a joyous Percival who relishes at stealing a kiss from his beloved, and thedark haired man’s laughter is a ringing sound that echoes the beating of Newt’sheart, and it is soothing and healing and altogether love.
The sun dips below the valleys, but still they liethere, hearts beating in tandem. The night sky rises, and the stars dipprettily as they scatter across the sable expanse of night, twinkling shyly asthey hide behind the clouds. The little Mooncalf butts at Percival’s hand,somewhat huffily, as she trots back to the herd to stare at the moon, and withher departure comes the breaking of an enchantment. The Niffler slowly awakes,its chaotic nature slowly reigniting like a steadily growing flame. Even as ittoddles away, stumbling a little over its stubby paws, Pickett yawns and slipsback into Newt’s pocket, his leafy head swaying a little as his eyes start toflutter shut. Newt runs a fond finger over his minute companion’s head, andwhen he looks up, Percival’s hand is outstretched towards him, and the warmjolt that courses through when their skin comes into contact makes Newt smile. Theywalk, hand in hand, out of Newt’s magical suitcase and back to the little homethey share. Their nightly routine is filled with soft touches and tenderglances as they ready for bed, and Morpheus is kind to them that night, fortheir dreams are sweet and their sleep undisturbed till dawn.
Gramander fluff for the ever lovely @funkzpiel , and Percival’s Animagus form is inspired by the perfection that is @questionartbox ‘s art here & here . I apologise if this isn’t up to my usual standards; I’ve had a difficult few days and writing this has given me joy, even if this isn’t my best work. Enjoy!
It’s well known throughout the Department of Magical Security that Percival Graves, Director and Senior Auror, is an Animagus. What people don’t know however, is the form the formidable wizard takes, although everyone will agree that they think it’s a powerful, majestic creature, like the man is. There are bets placed by the Aurors about Percival’s Animagus form, and the most popular choice is an eagle. The second most popular choice is a bit of a joke, but some Aurors think it mightn’t be too far of a stretch. Percival smirks a little when he hears whispers of how his Animagus form is a ferocious dragon who breathes fire and eats people who piss him off. He says nothing to contradict that notion, but the next time someone screws up royally, he silently casts a spell that causes smoke to roll dramatically out of his nose, and the Auror’s eyes roll into the back of his head before he’s out cold on the floor. His people are particularly efficient for an entire week.
When Newt learns about Percival being an Animagus and sees the man transform for the first time, the Auror swears that the magizoologist’s freckles are very much dancing with joy. And because he likes Newt, Percival Graves sits patiently on his haunches as Newt excitedly runs his hands over Percival’s dark, velvety fur and lifts his large paws and press on the dark coloured paw pads. His tail twitches rather irately when Newt opens his jaw wide and checks on each of his teeth; surely he knew how best to care for his own teeth!
He purrs happily though, when Newt gives him a good rub and pat, and he dozes off in Newt’s case still in Animagus form, with the welcome weight of the lanky man against him. Percival makes it a point to visit the case and have a good romp about as a panther after that. It doesn’t matter if Newt isn’t always there, but there’s a little leap that Percival’s heart makes when he sees the red-head amble about, feeding this creature or making notes about new additions (he’ll strangle anyone who says he’s in love with the man. Because he’s not).
Anyway. He makes friends with Newt’s creatures, who crowd around him when he first appears in the case as a man. Some are wary, while some, like the insufferably adorable Niffler who immediately nicks his pocket watch, take to him immediately. Dougal the Demiguise is drawn to him instantly, and when his furry hand latches onto Percival’s, the man tightens his grip instinctively, because Dougal looks up at him with the most trusting of orbs that it reminds him of warmth and the love of family and friends and Newt only smiles when Percival looks up at him with tears that have come unbidden to his dark eyes.When Percival first transforms into the panther, the Mooncalves squeal and run away to hide behind Newt’s back because Mummy what is that black creature? Will it eat us? But with gentle coaxing from their caretaker, they eventually crane their long necks from behind and slowly trot back to the feline. They sniff at him inquisitively, letting out little whinnies as they get used to the strange creature who doesn’t smell quite right. The panther only blinks lazily at them and when one brave Mooncalf gets close enough, he licks the gentle creature’s head affectionately, which earns him a happy nicker and innocent head butt. The other Mooncalves immediately crowd around him after, each wanting to meet their new friend. Percival the panther patiently grants each of them a tender lick on their soft heads, and Newt can’t help but laugh because of course his creatures would be charmed by Percival. He thinks he’s not immune to the other wizard’s charm too, when he turns eyes that reflect the sun and light and darkness towards him, a gaze that makes him blush prettily as he turns away with the excuse of tending to work. The panther snorts in amusement, and he settles contentedly under the shade of a tree still surrounded by magical creatures.
When Percival is out on a mission, only the third since his complete recovery from Grindelwald’s torture, he’s badly hurt. It stings his pride and ego that an amateur wizard, one nowhere near his calibre of skill, manages to hit him with a spell that cuts deep into his side, and his coat is stained the shade of blood, and he can feel the strain of each breath and dark spots are flying about his eyes. But of course he doesn’t go to the hospital, of course he insists his Aurors receive treatment from the medi-witches, and of course he insists he’s fine. Because he has to be. Because he can see the fear in his people’s eyes that he might be taken from them again, and he assures his brave people, battered and bruised but alive, that he’s going nowhere and Hades can wait till he’s done with life to take him down to Tartarus. There’s a cacophony of protests that he’s actually going to hell, but that’s another story for another time.
He limps away when the reports are made and the paperwork is filed, leaving alarming trails of blood along the way, and he thanks whatever gods that exist that Newt’s case is in the man’s office, where it usually is. He doesn’t see Newt, but he’s past the point of caring as he forces the latches open with trembling hands and unseeing eyes, and through pure muscle memory, he stumbles his way down the stairs and through the wooden shack and into the wide expanse of Newt’s world. He’s kneeling on the soft green grass, moaning like a wounded animal and through sheer bull-headedness, manages to force his body to change. Bit by agonising bit, his hands and feet stretch into black furred limbs that are shaking with the effort of the transformation, and his ears are drooping and he’s panting and when he’s finally animal and not man, he collapses with a guttural scream that startles even the nearby Nundu, who’s napping happily on its large perch. Newt’s creatures flock to the exhausted but whole animal, who bears no sign of the wounds that plagued his human body, chittering anxiously and not knowing what to do, but Mummy will! Mummy can save their friend! Dougal hoots fretfully and he pets the panther lying prone on the grass before he leaps out of the case in search of Newt. Percival is safe for now, but he still needs someone to tend to the wounds his human body has sustained.
It’s nearly an hour before Newt comes barrelling down the case, Dougal hanging onto his neck and chattering anxiously. The lanky man is all long limbs and red curls as he rushes to Percival, whose body is no longer shaking but the low growl he emits is enough to worry the Magizoologist. Thank goodness he’s had the presence of mind to call for medi-witches when Dougal comes screeching frantically at him, and his freckled face pales when he hears Percival is badly hurt. Kneeling before the beautiful creature whose ribcage is heaving with laboured breaths, he pulls out various vials of potions and makes Percival down them, coaxing his powerful jaw open with soothing strokes and soft murmurs, and later, when Percival is recovering in bed, he thinks Newt’s voice sounds like home.
By the time the medical team arrives, Newt has gotten Percival to revert to his human form and has blood soaked clothes pressed tightly against the wound, and had Percival been conscious, he would have greatly appreciated the sight of Newt’s muscular chest littered with varying sizes of scars. The director is floated onto a stretcher and out of the case, and Newt is trailing behind, his gait jumpy and hands that don’t know what to do with themselves tightly wrung. He pauses when the doors of the infirmary close before him, and he wonders just why he’s so terribly worried for a man he’s known for all of two months, and the answer is hammering on his heart but Newt’s been alone for so long that he’s almost forgotten what love is.
When Percival’s eyes open to the depressingly white ceiling of the hospital room, the first thing he does is ask for Newt. The nurse in charge is a matronly woman who hides a smile behind her hand and when she calls for Newt, she tells the blushing red head that his sweetheart is asking for him. He doesn’t bother correcting her, because his feet are leading him into the room, and he lets out an unwitting sigh at how gorgeous unkempt Percival with soft floppy hair is. There’s a shy smile on his face when Percival asks him to sit, and they spend the next few hours in whispered conversations, and when the dark-haired Auror sleepily asks Newt out for dinner this Friday before he slips off to slumber, he’s rewarded by the brightest and most heart-stopping smile from Newt, who pecks him on the cheek and fumbles for an excuse afterwards. Percival only smirks tiredly as he catches Newt by the hand and tugs him in for a proper kiss, and as he drifts off to sleep, Newt’s cheeks are a flaming red that matches his fiery hair. When he opens the door, he’s met by cooing Aurors who shake his hand profusely and tell him he’s good for their boss, and there are threats by a few of the senior Aurors that they know how to hide dead bodies, if he ever hurts Percival. Unbeknownst to them, a smiling Percival hears their every word, and when it’s time to receive their monthly pay check, everyone is delighted when there’s a sizable bonus and neat handwritten notes with the words thank you scrawled onto them. His Aurors are the biggest cheerleaders in their new relationship really, and when it’s time for his date with Newt, he doesn’t mind at all when they crowd in his office and push him out of the building, with earnest advice and even a few tears shed because their Percy is all grown up and dating and Goldstein if you finish that sentence you’ll be stuck in Wand Permits forever. When Percival sees Newt off to his rented apartment, eyes bright and hearts full, he learns two things. One is that he’s the luckiest man ever because he has his family, and two, he’s just kissed the most gorgeous man on earth and he tastes like pineapple and cinnamon and everything soft and warm. Most of all, he tastes like love.
Imagine Percival Graves healing through bonding with Newt’s creatures, and serenading one of them when they’re frightened. Inspired by one of @funkzpiel ‘s posts about Newt finding his creatures with Percival. I wanted to write something where Percival undergoes a sort of therapy by being with Newt’s creatures; it’s not far-fetched when you think about how much help it could offer to someone with PTSD or any trauma. Also, my baby Percival has suffered so much I wanted him to be happy. Enjoy!
It’s not the first time Percival Graves has been down Newt’s suitcase; when he’s first rescued from Grindelwald’s captivity a broken man, an angry man, Newt introduces him to his case full of creatures. Every time Percival emerges from the case, he’s a little less angry and the corner of his mouth is a little softer, more Percival-like. He starts to question less about why no one noticed he was being impersonated, about whether he’s that much of a failure that the people he sees every day, the people he pours his heart and soul and blood to.
He bonds very well with all the creatures. Dougal loves him because they’re both protectors, and Percival doesn’t mind when the silvery creature hangs onto his neck wherever he goes. The weight is comforting, and the sensation of Dougal’s soft fur and crooning against his ear slowly replaces the memory of rusted chains holding his neck against the walls of his prison.
The Niffler doesn’t stop stealing things from Percival. But he’s more polite about it. The first time he stole Percival’s signet ring, the one he wears on a chain around his neck and tucked out of sight within his starched white shirt, Percival gently yet firmly takes hold of the Niffler, and very nicely asks for his ring back. He gives the creature a pretty trinket someone gave him once, and the Niffler is happy to return the ring to its owner. Now, whenever it sees Percival, it gives the man a little snuffle and headbutt on his hand, and Percival always manages to find out that something shiny of his was taken by the sneaky thing. He’s always prepared though, he keeps a bag full of worthless little things that are shiny enough to placate the Niffler in exchange for his belongings. He doesn’t mind it at all, really.
The Mooncalves love Percival. They always come bouncing whenever they see him from a distance, and whenever Percival sits beneath his favourite tree for a rest, they all crowd around him, big eyes blinking trustfully at him, and Percival feels the cracks in his heart fill a little more when he’s surrounded by so much trust and innocence.
The Nundu doesn’t know what to make of the strange smelling man when it first encounters him. The man smells sad, like he’s given up, which gives off the scent of flowers wilting and fresh coffee going stale. It keeps its distance the first few times, but curiously approaches the man when he comes near its territory. It lowers its great head and gives an almost dainty sniff at him, and the two have a staring match that lasts for a while, before the Nundu walks off. The next time the man returns, it offers him a giant paw, and is pleased when the man understands enough to place his tiny human hand in it. They have an understanding, and the Nundu always growls softly whenever it sees the human now. He’s almost as familiar as its friend Newt, and over time, his scent grows less sad. He smells like petrichor, like life returning to dry earth once more, and like rolling green grass that stretches on for miles and miles. It decides it likes when the man smells like that.
One day, one of the newborn Occamies wanders out of its nest it shares with its brothers and sisters, and Percival finds it stuck in the thorny branches a nearby tree, its scales slightly torn and bleeding a silvery substance. Newt isn’t around; he’s asked the Director to look after his creatures while he’s meeting with Madame Picquery about incorporating his new bestiary into wizarding school syllabus in America. It says a lot of about the magizoologist’s trust in Percival, that he’s willingly entrusting him with his precious creatures. The normally calm man feels a hint of panic when he’s trying to coax the frightened creature out but can’t. What if the Occamy hurts itself even more by struggling? What if the other creatures panic as well? What if he can’t save the Occamy and Newt can’t save it? What if, what if, what if…? Percival feels his fears start to creep into his mind; fear for the safety of the little creature, fear of failure, fear of that dark cell with no windows and no air and god he can’t breath- But he can breathe, and there’s sunshine and wind and he’s alive and not locked up for Grindelwald’s perverse amusement. He feels more him than he’s ever had in a long time, and taking a deep breath, remembers the most basic of his Auror training. Look, observe, assess, act. He can almost hear his mentor’s gruff voice drilling that mantra into his head. He can do this, he must.
Percival takes his warm coat that he discarded to the side, and humming, softly, gently, just loud enough for the Occamy to hear, waits until the distressed creature has stopped trashing about before he gently pries the branches away from its body, then just as quickly wraps it in the warmth of his coat. He soothes the poor thing just as gently, strokes its scales with quiet murmurs until the Occamy is emitting tired little screeches and nestling contentedly in his coat. Percival is tempted to cast a healing spell on the broken scales, but isn’t sure how the spell will affect the creature and decides to wait for Newt’s expert judgement. He motions for Dougal, who’s perching anxiously nearby, to tear a strip of cloth from his now-rumpled shirt and wraps it snugly around the wound. He’s relieved that it doesn’t seem to be bleeding anymore and the silvery substance is crusting up around the wound like dried blood.
He makes his way over to the Occamy nest, where its siblings are squawking out for their missing brethren. He doesn’t place the little one back in, however, not wanting the others to accidentally aggravate the wound. Instead, he settles down near the nest, close enough so that the Occamies can call out to each other and not be frightened. Cautiously, he strokes a finger down the Occamy’s head, and starts to hum a tune. It’s a lullaby his mother used to sing to him, and he feels it gently nip at his fingers, as if in thanks, and he leans back comfortably as he continues to sing, voice still quiet but resonating throughout the case.
One by one, the creatures start to gather round by Percival. Dougal sits himself protectively near him and the Occamies and the Niffler is slowly waddling over to join them. The Mooncalves silently trot along and one rests its soft head in Percival’s lap, its snout snuffling happily at the man’s warmth. Several Bowtruckles make their way onto Percival’s head, and he chuckles lightly at the ticklish sensation they make as they delicately comb through his hair with their small limbs. One of the Bowtruckles tucks itself into his pocket and sways its leafy head to Percival’s melody. Even the Nundu appears, intrigued by the sound he’s heard his human make sometimes, and it curls its gigantic body into a comfortable position, and rests its head on its paws, fierce yellow eyes fixed on the man before it. It’s a strange sight, to see the dangerous beast’s spiked tail wave along like a cat.
It’s been a long time since Percival has sung; his mother was a lover of music and growing up, their home was always filled with her soft trills and humming. When she passed, he stopped singing, because every song he learnt to sing with his mother lost its beauty when she was gone, along with her beautiful voice. He wonders why it feels right to sing again, after so long, but thinks he can feel his mother’s tender hands piecing back his broken self together. He thinks he can almost see her gentle grey eyes and brown curls and the way she would tell him that he’s more than what anyone defines him to be. He’s more than a victim, more than a failure, more than the specter his friends and colleagues thought they knew. And he feels whole.
When Newt comes back into his suitcase an hour later, he’s astonished to see his creatures gathered around Percival, the last notes of a song hanging in the air. Catching sight of the red-haired man, Percival motions wordlessly at the bundle in his arms, and Newt makes his way to his injured creature and treats it with sure and steady hands. The Occamy, now healed and sleepily curling with its siblings in their nest, trills at Percival before burrowing its head in sleep. The other creatures depart for their own nests, but he can still feel their warmth, and he manages a crooked smile at Newt, who’s beaming like a child, but doesn’t say a word. As bad as he is with people, Newt has the sense to not say anything that could possibly make the dignified man self-conscious.
Ever since that day, Percival makes daily trips into Newt’s suitcase when the British wizard is in New York. It’s therapy really, because even though there isn’t a licensed therapist asking him how he feels, Newt’s creatures offer him acceptance, trust and quiet companionship. They don’t judge him, don’t rush him, and they don’t look at him like he’s crazy when he talks to them about how he really feels. How he thinks sometimes when he stares in the mirror, he sees Grindelwald’s smirk on his face, and he’ll try to claw that smirk off because he feels dirty and sullied. He tells them about how he begged for death in captivity, to be spared the indignity of being at Grindelwald’s mercy. He tells them about the people who whisper behind his back that Grindelwald’s made him his bitch and it stings because Percival Graves is his own man, broken or not. The creatures seem to understand. They don’t look at him with sympathy or tip-toe around him like he’s made of glass. They offer him warm touches and cuddles and constantly ask for food. He likes that, not the food bit particularly because they get pushy when they’re hungry, but he likes that he can give zero fucks about maintaining his image. Eventually, he gets comfortable enough being himself that he stops pretending altogether in public. He forgoes wearing his long coat and doesn’t button up that very top button that always chafes his neck. He lets his hair fall more naturally about, and wears glasses when it’s getting dark because he’s not getting any younger. He’s proud still that he doesn’t let himself go, but he looks softer, more approachable and one day when a new recruit tells him that, he feels a thousand times lighter and rewards the recruit with a sincere smile.
Sometimes he’s alone, sometimes Newt joins him and tells him, with glowing eyes about the wonder of creatures. Sometimes he has bad days where his left hand throbs from being broken and his temper is short and he feels as though everyone is staring at with accusation in their eyes. Sometimes he has good days where his people show him they’ve never stopped trusting him, and he’s made progress in letting people in. This is how Percival Graves slowly heals, with love and care and support from the people who love him, and from the creatures who think of him as friend.
Percival's animagus form is a tabby cat, small, cute & perfect for spywork. But kitty!Percy has a secret talent, he can actually understand animals in his cat form & vice versa. Perfect for Percy really, he can threaten the niffler with prison, interrogate the bowtruckles, gossip with the real stray cats on suspicious individuals. But doesn't he realise, Newt's creatures all notice how Percy has a big crush on Newt esp since they understand his lovesick mutterings whenever he's around?
I got a little carried away and slightly off topic on this. My apologies.
The Care Of Magical Creatures
A perk of being an animaguswas that sometimes Percival could slink through the department without beingnoticed. It wasn’t a skill he often made use of but some days it was a blessingto not have anyone interrupt him as he made his way towards Seraphina’s officeso he could bask in the patch of sunlight that hit her desk. Unfortunately hisplans for a warm nap with maybe some head scratches thrown in if Sera was inthe mood were cut short when he heard the thundering steps of someone runningthrough the bullpen and a very distinct patter of paws skittering on the woodenfloor.
“Keep up! That’s it.Back straight. No, don’t slouch. Oh for shine’s sake, you make me do all thehard bits,” a shrill voice rang through and Percival watched as the nifflerjumped up onto a desk and charged from desk to desk. “Breathe through your noseor you’ll get a stitch.”
Behind the nifflerNewt was red in the face and panting as he tried to recapture his errant pest.If Percival’s ears weren’t mistaken then the man was cursing up a storm underhis breath. Idly he wondered how long the chase had been going on for butjudging by the general state of both man and beast it was long enough. He tooka moment to watch the niffler spring from desk to desk before he crouched down,wiggled into position and in one elegant leap he had the creature pinned to thedesk.
“No!” Newt soundeddistraught as he reached for Percival and the niffler. Before anything morehumiliating happened Percival shifted into his human form and scruffed theniffler.
“I believe this is yours?”Newt grabbed the niffler and held it close to his chest.
“Thank you. Sorry. Ididn’t realise you were you,” Newt said while the niffler stared up at Percivalwith a smug look and a squeak.
That really shouldhave been the end of matters and Percival resignedly trundled back to hisoffice for a less comfortable lunch break. However half an hour into his doodlewhich looked eerily like a stick figure chasing a ball of fluff there was asnuffling squeak from near his door.
A glance up and theniffler stood there and it squeaked again. Sighing Percival stood and shiftedinto his cat form. From the table he had a vantage point over the room.
“-up I know you canunderstand me you giant oaf,” the niffler was saying.
“You kiss your motherwith that mouth?” Percival asked.
“Mummy needs moreexercise if he wants to attract a mate. I don’t do all this running for my ownhealth.”
Percival stared andtried to make sense of what he’d just heard. Admittedly Newt had grumbled aboutthe niffler on a regular basis, how the little bugger was worse than any otherniffler he’d ever met had been. It never occurred to Percival that perhaps itwas because the niffler had become Newt’s self-appointed personal trainer.
“He doesn’t need anymore exercise, his butt is pert enough as is,” Percival replied and wonderedwhy he felt the need to tell the niffler that. It was too late though and hecouldn’t exactly obliviate a creature while in his animagus form. Anyway,nobody would know other than the niffler about his slip of tongue. To make upfor matters all the same, Percival gracefully jumped off the table and walkedup to the thoughtfully muttering creature. As delicately as possible Percivalgrabbed the niffler by the scruff and padded out of his office and towardsNewt’s case.
Some of the aurors sawa sleek tabby with a niffler hanging from its mouth plodding delicately throughthe bullpen and they said nothing. There were stranger things going on in thedepartment than their boss with a creature in his mouth. Undisturbed Percivalmanaged to find Newt’s case and he jumped down the stairs while he did his bestto ignore the niffler’s mutterings about mates and mummy. What Percival didn’texpect was to put the niffler down and for the creature to run out onto theedge of the veranda and start shouting at the top of his little lungs.
“It worked! I told youall Mummy just needed to get fitter to attract a mate”
Creatures began toconverge on the screaming niffler with mutters of disbelief. The erumpentsnorted in disbelief, the nundu lay down with its head on its paws and listenedwith some amusement, an occamy slithered closer in interest.
“That’s impossible.Mummy needs coaching in how to woo mates, not fitness,” Pickett clambered downfrom the tree he’d been in. “I’ve been with him as often as possible and he’sin no way ready to find a mate by himself.”
“Next you’ll betelling us that his potential mate also likes us,” the occamy sighed, “it’s apipe dream.”
“No, this is hismate,” the niffler pointed proudly at Percival and the creatures all stared atthe man in his cat form. It was terrifying to have so many beasts eye him upuntil the nundu let out what could almost be a laugh.
“A cub!” she exclaimedand lumbered closer to Percival who held his ground.
“I am many thingsma’am but a cub I most certainly am not,” he muttered darkly and eyes wentwide. The sound of feet rushing down into the case scattered the creaturesbefore anything else could be said.
“I like you,” thenundu said over her shoulder lowly as she disappeared into the shadows, “fornow.”
Percival slunk underthe bench and out of sight as Newt hurried into the habitats.
“There you are!” therelief was palpable in his voice as he stared down the niffler. He croucheddown and patted the beast who preened under the attention. “I thought you’dgotten out again, some people were talking about a stray cat running off withyou. I was worried sick.”
“It was your materunning off with him,” the occamy called from her nest. Newt looked upguiltily.
“Sorry, Mummy’s herenow,” he cooed back and reached for the jar of bugs.
“Oh sweetheart I’m old enough to be your granny, look at thestate of your hair how do you expect to find a mate like this?”
Newt didn’t respond,only shoved some bugs at the occamy who obligingly took them from his hand andsnapped at his fingers fondly.
“Silly human. To thinkyou’re writing a book on us and you can’t even tell I’m not a youngling.”
“We really should tellhim somehow, shouldn’t we?” the erumpent called over. Other creatures chippedin and began to bicker while Newt rushed from habitat to habitat to try andquiet them with attention and food. It was an ideal moment for Percival toslink out unnoticed.
As much as possiblePercival avoided shifting into his animagus form while Newt was in the buildingfrom then on. He didn’t wish to suffer the indignity of being judged by a hostof creatures and assessed in his suitability as a mate for their Mummy. It wasa ridiculous concept and one he didn’t wish to be part of. The plan would haveworked too, if only Pickett hadn’t hopped off Newt’s coat unnoticed andpestered Percival until the man sighed and shifted.
“Interesting,”Pickett’s first words struck him as odd, “so you only understand us in yourpredator form.”
Percival nodded andwaited for Pickett to continue.
“I wanted to see ifrumours are true, are you fit to be a mate for Mummy,” Pickett continued andPercival was desperate to explain that the situation had been onmisunderstanding. Plus any talk of mating he wanted to have with Newt wasstrictly between them in human form only. He didn’t get a chance to say any ofthat as Pickett ploughed on.
“Mummy is too youngand naïve. I’ve seen you in your bipedal from. Very dark, gloomy. You fell farfrom your home tree, perhaps you were thrown out. Mummy doesn’t need your sortin his life. He needs warmth, kindness and leniency for his slip ups as helearns. You simply won’t do.”
Percival pulledhimself to his full height. He wasn’t about to let a stick tell him who he wasand wasn’t good enough for. Any kind of feelings he may have been harbouringfor Newt were shoved to the side in favour of indignation.
“Who do you think youare to pick a mate for Newt without his consent and permission? He’s a verycapable man who has my utter respect and perhaps should have yours too. Whoelse would work so hard to make sure you and your friends have a safe, pamperedlife with him? So buck up your ideas and let him be with who he wants to be,”Percival nodded at the end of his rant and nodded for good measure, “and if itjust so happens to be me, I would happily accept that.”
Opposite him Pickettseemed to slowly smile.
“Prove me wrong punk,work for your mate,” he said and the door was flung open behind him. Newt stoodthere staring at Percival in his cat form crouched opposite Pickett.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry, Ihope he wasn’t a bother. Didn’t realise he went for a wander,” Newt scoopedPickett up and Percival shifted back to his human form. He tried to ignorePickett blowing a raspberry at him and focussed on reassuring Newt that it wasall quite okay. As the man and his creature left, Percival sat back down andwondered when he decided that spilling his heart to a creature was a wisedecision.
There was a robberydowntown, a jewellery store was emptied without any evidence of a break-in.Percival and his aurors were there, quietly investigating alongside the police.It seemed like a magical break-in, one that would leave to police baffled. Outof the corner of his eye Percival saw movement at the corner of the shop.Instinctively he retreated to a quiet area out of sight and shifted into hiscat form. Returning to the scene he watched as the niffler tried to shuffleinto the air vent under the window. Silently Percival stalked closer and aftera moment’s thought rather than pounce he stuck a paw out and tapped thecreature on its rotund bottom. There was an undignified squeak and the nifflerwhipped round.
“Why you improperbrute!”
“Good afternoon,”Percival replied, “you wouldn’t happen to know about what’s going on here, doyou?”
“You prejudicedignorant bastard!” The niffler cried out and Percival huffed. He wasn’t goingto tolerate the abuse and prowled closer until they were nose to nose. Theniffler noticed the threat and tried to calm.
“I mean. Just becauseI’m here you can’t go blaming me. I was simply trying to help. The bowtruckleused to open the door had escaped and is hiding behind this vent.”
Percival glanced atthe piece of metal the niffler was trying to squeeze behind. If his ears weren’tmistaken there was the sound of soft rustling like a quivering twig shaking inthe wind.
“Very well, I shalltake over now, thank you. And on your way out please put the pearl necklace andfew pieces of diamond onto the floor where they will be found and returned to therightful owner,” Percival nudged the niffler. “This time I’ll over look youtrying to pay yourself. But next time you’ll serve your time.”
He watched the nifflerplod out of the shop, throwing his pilfered goods to the floor in a huff. Witha light huff he turned to the air vent and began the slow process of coaxingthe scared bowtruckle out of its hiding place.
It really shouldn’thave surprised Percival that he would be returning to Newt’s case sooner thanhe’d really wanted to. He’d found Pickett lurking in his office and Percivalreally didn’t have the time to be lectured by him while in cat form. So he’dtaken it upon himself to take the bowtruckle back to Newt who was probably inhis case.
“He must really likeyou,” Newt had smiled when his creature was returned. “He doesn’t seek anybodyelse out like this.”
“Perhaps he’s warningme off instead,” Percival said thoughtlessly.
“Warning you off?” Newt’sface scrunched up in confusion. It made Percival’s mind stumble over his words,caught out by his worry of where all the other creatures were.
“I’d like a word withyou, in my office. Without any creatures present. Please,” Percival said andturned to flee. He didn’t run from the creatures but there were some things hedidn’t want an audience for. Asking Newt out was nerve wracking as it was, hedidn’t need a peanut gallery to contend with.
“You’ve been avoidingus,” Pickett’s voice roused Percival from his lunchtime snooze. A low rumblinglaughter had him shooting up wide awake.
“Poor little tiredcub,” the nundu chuckled, “Mummy been wearing you out?”
Percival stared dumblyat the congregation of creatures around his desk. The case was open, his doorshut and the erumpent sat with her backside keeping it firmly shut despite thebanging from the other side. Suddenly Percival really regretted now allowingapparition in his office.
“What do you all want?”Percival sighed, resigned to his fate.
“We just wanted to seewho makes Mummy so happy. Obviously we’ve groomed him into something good.Niffler’s been ever so proud of whipping him into shape while I’m quite pleasedwith how homely I’ve made his hair. It looks like a proper nest now. If only he’dstopped messing it up by running his hand through it,” the occamy added. Shehad gained a few silver feathers since Percival had last seen her. Quietly hewondered how Newt had not spotted that or how he explained it away.
On the table Pickettpulled himself to his full height and Percival automatically zeroed in on him.It wasn’t intentional, his cat instincts flared for a second before he couldtamp them down.
“Look little cub, wecan all smell you on Mummy. So we thought we’d come and give you our approval,blessing and care instructions,” the nundu cut in. Pickett turned to glare ather.
“Care instructions?”Percival queried in disbelief.
“He needs one good runevery other day,” the niffler began.
“His hair needs to besorted for him, he seems incapable of grooming,” the occamy added.
“Mummy needs to beallowed to make his mistakes, no telling him off,” Pickett waggled a finger atPercival.
“He does better aftera good night’s sleep. Bring him down to me in the case before he goes off onanother hare brained idea. I’ll imbue him with my smell so nobody will messwith him,” the nundu carried on.
“Mummy is here,” theerumpent said balefully. All eyes turned to Newt standing dishevelled in the doorway.
“Really now?” hegasped in disbelief as he took in the sight of his creatures all sat aroundPercival. “Back in the case, all of you. I expect better from you thanterrorise someone like this. You’re the reason I can’t meet anyone nice andkeep them. Go on. Back in you go. You too Pickett. Don’t give me that look.”
All the creaturesfiled back into the case, Pickett was the last to hop in before Newt closed thelid with a sigh. He stood and looked mournfully at Percival who had morphedback into his human form.
“So sorry about that.I know they can be a bit much,” he clasped a hand over his wrist to stopfidgeting.
“It’s only becausethey love you,” Percival replied and pulled Newt closer for a light kiss. “Theyonly want the best for their Mummy. And so do I.”
HOLY SHIT. EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND WATCH THIS. THIS IS SO ADORABLE? THE EYES ARE AS HUGE AS THEY SHOULD BE. AND THE TAIL. AND THEIR EARS. AND THEY'RE FUCKING SMILING. @funkzpiel @questionboxjuliet not quite plushies but AHHHH FUZZY BUTT
