I'm back with more Graves, more Trixie and more low drama work antics. This one shot is set in 1925 - around 18 months before the events of Fantastic Beasts. Let me know if you enjoy it!

Trixie returned to her desk with a small furrow in her brow. Her lunch had been less than satisfactory. She had been sat next to a group of loud young men from the Department of Games and Sports. Their constant blathering about the latest Quidditch scores had interrupted her reading of her new romance novel.

She tossed her barely opened book down onto her desk and shook off her coat, wandering over to hang it on the huge brass stand in the corner of the room. One of the metal hands creaked open and took the coat from her. She smoothed down her skirt and walked through the row of desks, pausing occasionally to collect complete files from her colleagues. She had almost returned to her desk when she stopped.

"Eugene?" His head whipped up. "What are you doing? Isn't that the Russell file? I thought you were done with that this morning."

He was hunched over a stack of parchment, a splodge of ink dropping from his slightly quivering quill. "I was, but Mr Graves said it wasn't ordered correctly."

Trixie almost stabbed her lip with her tooth in irritation. "Did he? Were those his exact words?"

Eugene hesitated, his watery eyes darting from her face to his desk and back again. She watched as he wrestled with where his loyalties lay. Or, perhaps more accurately, who he was most intimidated by. In the end, her stern expression won him over.

"Not - not his exact words, no. He...he said that it was a total mess and that he couldn't be expected to work with such...such shoddy information."

"Shoddy? He said it was - " She cut herself off, her nails digging into her palms. She took a breath and held out a hand with a forced smile. "Let me see the file."

Eugene hastily shoved the sheaths of parchment together and handed it over to her with a look that was half terror, half intrigue. She flicked through it and saw surveillance reports on the man in question, his family history, a copy of his wand permit...

"This looks fine."

Eugene seemed to gain a swell of courage and said rather loudly, "Well, that's - that's what I thought!" But then several of the others looked over from their desks and he fell back into a panicked whisper. "But Mr Graves insisted! Said he hadn't had a good file for weeks and that it was time we improved our standard of work!"

"Improve our standard of work? Right, that's it!"

Eugene gave a small squeak of horror as she clutched the file to her and stormed off to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, her heels cracking like lightning on the hard marble floor.

It really isn't called for, she thought as she strode, her colleagues jumping out of her path. Yes, Mr Graves is intimidating. Yes, Mr Graves is powerful. But Mr Graves is also wrong. And I won't have him slandering our work.

He was stood by the map near the front of the room; a broad shouldered, dark suited figure that oozed unsociable air. But Trixie couldn't stop now. A fire of frustration and injustice burned so strong in her that her steps didn't even falter.

"Good afternoon, Mr Graves."

He turned slowly, like he wasn't sure she was really worth his time.

"What is it?"

Not even a hello. She gritted her teeth and thought, I bet he doesn't even know my name.

"You sent the Russell file back."

"Yes."

"You've sent back several over the last few weeks."

"Yes."

Insufferable bastard! "Why?"

He sighed as though she was bothering him with an issue he deemed to be awfully trivial. "They aren't correct."

Trixie nearly begged Merlin for strength. "In what way is the Russell file incorrect?"

He rounded on her fully, apparently intrigued enough to give her his full attention. There was a flash of anger in his dark eyes. "Why did you come here to bother me? I have work to do."

She swallowed. This is Percival Graves. He is important, he is short-tempered. But she steeled herself. Temper and importance aside, he is still wrong. "I have come here about the file, Mr Graves. The file that you assure me is incorrect despite it being checked several times by myself and my colleague."

His eyes narrowed. "Then you and your colleague need to rethink how you do your job."

She forced a deathly sweet smile onto her face. "I am happy with how I do my job, Mr Graves."

"I'm not."

"Then it's fortunate you're not technically my boss."

Even absorbed in her own fury, Trixie noticed how the office had hushed around them. Graves took half a step closer to her and she only just managed to keep herself rooted to the spot. He glared down at her with impatient ferocity.

"You are treading a fine line."

A wave of insane calm came over her. "I assure you I am not, Mr Graves. I merely stated a fact." He opened his mouth to respond but she coolly cut him off. "What is it about the Russell file that you find displeasing?"

He clenched his jaw so hard his muscle twitched. "The reports are all over the place. We need them in date order."

That was it? The absolute - "Ascending or descending?"

He gave her a bitter smile that came out as a grimace. "Your choice."

"Lovely. Was that the only issue?"

The muscle twitched again. "Yes."

She forced another sickly smile. "Then I'll get on it straight away. Would you like it by the end of the day?"

"Yes."

There was a long silence in which she waited and everyone else held their breaths. She tapped her foot impatiently and when he realised what she was waiting for, he snorted. But she held firm, raising an arched brow at him with cool annoyance. He gave in and said,

"Yes, please."

Feeling flushed with victory, she flicked the file closed and straightened up. "There we are. In the future Mr Graves, we would all appreciate it if you just asked us to reorder the files for you. That way we can avoid any further discussions like this."

And with that, she turned on her heel and strode from the office, her slightly shaking hands clutching the Russell file. Behind her, his department broke into a mass of excited whispers until she heard him shout,

"Haven't you all got work to do?!"

Nearly two months later, the deputy head of Trixie's department decided to leave with very little warning and it sent them all into chaos. After a week of just about keeping the ship steady, Trixie was called into President Picquery's office. She sat gingerly on the plush purple velvet chair, feeling incredibly out of place as the President studied her from across her dark wood desk.

"Hickory's decision to leave was unfortunate but that does give me a chance to refresh the department somewhat. In short, Miss Barnes, I'd like you to take over the position."

Trixie's initial fears for her job disappeared and were quickly replaced with a jolting sense of confusion. "I'm sorry? You want me to - "

" - take over as deputy head of C.A.R.D, yes." President Picquery already seemed bored with the conversation. "You were recommended by a senior member of staff and, from what I hear, you've taken up the role informally anyway."

Trixie wasn't sure if that was judgement or praise. Either way, she bristled. "Well, someone had to."

To Trixie's relief, she smiled. "Yes, that wasn't a criticism." She sat forward and began leafing through a stack of parchment on her desk. "The promotion should be relatively seamless. I will send down an official contract for to you sign tomorrow." She eyed her again. "Providing you accept the offer, of course."

"Yes, definitely!" Trixie's heart was hammering in her chest. Her! A department deputy! She couldn't wait to tell her parents.

Picquery was staring at her impatiently. "Back off to work then, Miss Barnes."

"Oh!" Trixie jumped out of her seat and hurried to the door. She stopped with her hand on the door. "Madam President? If I could just ask one more thing: who was it that recommended me?"

She glanced up from her work with a small smile on her face. "It was Percival Graves, actually." Trixie opened her mouth but nothing came out. Picquery raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I was surprised as well. He must rate your work highly."

"Oh." Was all Trixie could say again. "I will...be sure to thank him." She was in a daze and half out the door when she remembered to add, "And thank you, Madam President."

Picquery just dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

Trixie stood outside her office for a few minutes, frowning at the marble floor. Graves recommended her? Why? They hadn't really spoken since she had been rather rude about him being...well, rather rude a couple of months ago. Was this some ploy? Did he want her to fail?

Trixie made her way to the elevator and waited, still in a fog.

No, she didn't believe that Graves would promote her just to watch her fail. She might find him abrasive but she had never seen a malicious or cruel side to him. Then that must mean...

The elevator pinged. Graves must really think she was good at her job. She felt a strange swell of pride as she travelled back to her desk. She wasn't quite sure how to thank him. The thought of approaching him felt very awkward so she quickly ruled that out. A note on his desk? A gift?

She considered it for the rest of the day, restless in her indecision. It was only over a celebratory dinner with her family that evening that she finally settled on an option that she felt couldn't fail.

The whole floor was blissfully quiet as Percival Graves made his way through the department; just a few of his colleagues had chosen to get an early start on Monday's work. He stepped inside his office and stopped abruptly. There was a box on his desk, neatly wrapped and mysterious.

Frowning, he edged towards it. He wasn't the sort of man that people left gifts for. No, it was far more likely to be something unpleasant. A childish prank at best, a dangerous trap at worst. He withdrew his wand from his coat pocket and carefully untied the box's string. A counter-curse on the tip of his tongue, he pushed the lid up and -

There was a note.

Mr Graves,

Thank you for recommending me to President Piquery. I'm not sure why you did it but I promise I'll work hard to make sure your belief in me wasn't misplaced.

Trixie Barnes

P.S: I'm sorry about that time I shouted at you. I was having a bad day.

He almost laughed.

Under the note, there was a large cherry pie. He stared at it for a while, a strange feeling of pleasant discomfort settling in his stomach.

There was really no need for her to have done this. He had no doubt that she would run the department well; it had been no favour to recommend her. Besides, after the annoyance and surprise had worn off, he had been quite amused that she had shouted at him. He found many of his colleagues were intimidated by him and but Miss Barnes appeared to be quite unaffected by his sour temperament. That meant she would be a lot easier to work with than most. She was a sensible woman with good instincts and excellent organisational skills.

And, apparently, she made a fantastic cherry pie. He could think of no better qualities in a colleague.

He was unable to leave the pie alone all morning, breaking pieces off as he worked his way through the stack of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk. It was nearly lunchtime when someone knocked at his door. He quickly shut the lid of the pie box and shouted for them to enter. The door opened just enough for Miss Barnes to slip inside. She looked at the box before him and fidgeted on the spot.

"Hello - "

"Are you here to shout at me again?"

Her eyes widened in panic. "No, sir! I mean, you haven't done anything this time. Not to say you had done anything wrong before. Although, you were quite rude. But that doesn't mean - "

"It was a joke, Miss Barnes." He blamed the sugary pie for his good mood.

Her shoulders slumped with relief. "Oh, right."

"So what can I do for you?"

"Oh!" She handed over three files. "I thought you'd appreciate these delivered to you personally. I know you've been waiting for them."

"Thank you, Miss Barnes." He placed the files down next to the box. "And this is delicious, by the way."

A blush coloured her face. "I'm glad you like it. It was the least I could do really."

"I confess, I have something of a...sweet tooth. Just promise me you won't tell anyone else. I have a reputation to uphold."

She laughed, light and warm. "Of course, sir. Your secret is safe with me."

He felt a rare smile tug at his lips. "Good."

She beamed at him for a moment before suddenly taking a breath and saying, "I should get back to work. Thank you again, Mr Graves."

And with that she left him alone with his mountain of work. But, he thought, at least I have pie.