Another installment of the slowest burn MACUSA has ever seen. Let me know if you're still clinging on...
The Gala was a glittering affair - chandeliers hovered and swirled above the crowds, a Gigglewater fountain bubbled endlessly and all of MACUSA schmoozed in the soft, evening light.
A huge image of President Picquery hung over the throng, watching the proceedings with dark eyes. Underneath the picture in swirling golden ribbon: 'Congratulations on seven years in office!'
The real President Picquery stood near the door, playing the gracious host in sweeping golden robes. She was greeting the most important guests, shaking hands and smiling through her dislike of most of them. Further into the room, a band played smooth jazz in front of a small dance floor where a few enthusiastic couples were already twirling and dipping each other in time to the music. Next to the dance floor, witches and wizards chatted and networked together, snatching drinks and canapés from the floating serving trays that passed.
Percival Graves sat alone at the bar and he had no intention of moving until his presence was no longer required at this extravagant display of sly politics.
He caught the eye of the grouchy goblin bartender and tapped his glass. With a snap of the goblin's fingers, the glass refilled with amber Firewhiskey.
He took a gulp and watched as his colleagues kept streaming in, all gasping at the ostentatious display of decadence. He rolled his eyes and reminded himself that he had to make it through a few hours and then he could slip away. Stay until the speech is done, be introduced to some politicians, nod along to whatever they say and then leave.
"Ah, Percival! Didn't see you there!" Julius Everett, the head of Surveillance, evidently did see him, because he slipped onto the adjacent stool without invitation.
"Julius." He greeted, his jaw tight. "I should have known you'd be here."
The balding man laughed, wiping his watery eyes. "Of course, of course! We have to support our President in any way we can. And if that means drinking Gigglewater and eating pumpkin vol-a-vents all night, well then so be it!" He nudged Graves' shoulder with his elbow. "It's a tough job, eh?"
He laughed for so long, Graves started to wonder if he could slip away without him noticing. But suddenly he composed himself and said with no hint of a smile, "No seriously, I've meaning to talk to you about the fortnightly meeting. I don't think it makes any sense to omit Surveillance - "
But Graves quickly zoned out when, over Julius' narrow shoulder, he saw Trixie Barnes enter. Julius' wittering drifted into nothing as he watched her take in the grandness of the room. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun, leaving her neck and shoulders more exposed than he had ever seen. Her long, blue dress brushed the floor as she walked, the beading around her waist and over her hips catching the light with each movement. She seemed to scan the room and he thought their eyes might meet, like the characters in the romance novels he had seen strewn on her desk. But something made her turn around.
Her boyfriend had caught up with her, a hand on her back and an easy grin on his face.
Ah.
Graves downed the rest of his drink and gestured for another, his eyes stinging as the Firewhiskey burned down his throat.
" - so really Surveillance is just as important as the other departments, if not more so." Julius was still talking. "Without us, your jobs would be very difficult indeed!"
When he turned back with his newly refilled glass, she was no longer a presence over Julius' shoulder; she was alone and wandering to the bar, fiddling with something in her ridiculously small bag. He tried to concentrate on what Julius was saying, tried to fix his eyes on him - his thin face, the flake of pastry stuck on his top lip, the splash of Gigglewater that was already half dry on his shirt collar. But of course, none of them came close to Trixie Barnes in her finest dress.
He was just thinking about how it would probably only take a brush of his hand to send that loosely pinned hair cascading down over her shoulders, when she suddenly snapped her bag shut and looked up. This time their eyes did meet and he felt like he had been well and truly caught out. There was a beat and he held his breath. But she just beamed at him from across the bar, giving him a little wave. She noticed that he was stuck in conversation with Julius and her nose wrinkled in sympathy. He only just hid a childish grin in his glass.
Unfortunately, Julius had finally realised that he didn't have Graves' full attention and wheeled around to see what was distracting him. He face lit up when he saw Trixie, who was desperately trying to avoid his eye.
"Oh, Miss Barnes! What a delight! Do join us! In fact, I would very much welcome your opinion in this matter."
"Really?" She said through a grimace. She came to stand next to Graves, her shoulder lightly brushing his. From here, he had the perfect view of her hair just brushing her neck -
He quickly took another drink.
"I was just talking about the new schedules for the fortnightly meetings. Surely you can't agree that Surveillance should be left out! We're so integral to the whole damned system!"
She seemed to consider his words before carefully saying, "Well, I understand your frustrations but President Picquery did say the meetings are taking too much of our time. And I do see her point; we're wasting entire mornings in that boardroom."
Graves found himself nodding in agreement with her, despite not giving a damn about the debate.
Julius frowned, his grip on his glass of Gigglewater turning his fingertips white. "But cutting out Surveillance isn't the answer! We're so crucial - "
"Yes, your work is very important, Julius. No one would doubt that for a moment." She steadied him with a hand on his wrist and Graves had to admire how she calmed him so easily. "But I suppose Mr Graves' thinking on this - " She turned to him quickly. " - and do correct me if I'm wrong, Mr Graves - is that we can really cut down attendance by including my department more. All C.A.R.D. does is collate the criminal information, meaning that less departments have to present at the meeting."
Julius' mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to gabble, "Yes, of course I understand that! But really! I've been going to those meetings for over a decade and to be shunted out now is quite the blow!" He glared down and his glass and added, almost inaudibly, "And to be pushed out by an inexperienced woman, no less..."
Graves went from bored to furious in a heartbeat. He saw her blink in surprise and an embarrassed flush coloured her face. He was about to tell Julius Everett that he could keep his damned opinions to himself and that no one wanted to hear his rattling, old, tedious voice; especially not when they could hear Trixie Barnes concisely discuss her department's progress while she sat with her leg nearly pressed against his under the meeting table -
But she straightened her back and looked him in the eyes. "I may not be as experienced as you, Julius, but I am no less capable."
He felt a swell of pride. That'll do it.
Julius at least had the sense to look ashamed. "I - I...yes, you're right, of course. My apologies, Miss Barnes. I'm just - a bit worked up about it. I'll...I'll take my leave."
They watched him go in silence. Then she suddenly snatched the glass of Firewhiskey from Graves' hand and took a huge gulp. She coughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before handing the empty glass back to him. "Mercy Lewis, what an awful man."
"It's alright," he reassured her, placing his lipstick-stained glass on the bar. "Anything he said was negated by the fact he had a piece of pastry stuck to his lip."
She spluttered with laughter, covering her mouth with her hand when several of their colleagues had turned in surprise. Why was it every time he made her laugh, he felt happier than he had done in years?
"Oh, I didn't even notice!" She continued to chuckle as she ordered a drink. The goblin slid a glass to her and filled it with Gigglewater. She sipped neatly before saying with a teasing smile on her face,
"I'm surprised to see you here, Mr Graves. I didn't think a Gala would really be your scene."
He tried not to look too bitter. "President Picquery is a friend and she convinced me that my presence here was needed."
There was a pause while she sipped again and he could sense she wasn't done with her questioning. "And you came alone?"
His stomach lurched as he snorted into his Firewhiskey glass. "Of course."
She clambered, a tad clumsily, onto the bar stool next to him. "Why? There are plenty of lovely ladies who would be happy to hang on your arm for the night. Dana in the Wand Permit Office was quite vocal about you a few days ago." She sounded amused. "And I hear Ingrid has a soft spot for you. Apparently she stares longingly after you every time you walk past her to see President Picquery."
He squirmed in his seat. Her sudden interest in his romantic life struck far too close to something he had barely admitted to himself, let alone anyone else.
His jaw clenched. "Being alone is better than being with someone you don't really want."
She took a breath and obviously struggled with a response. "That's...true, I suppose." She finished her Gigglewater before adding thoughtfully, "But I think that can make you blind to the things you do want."
Their shoulders touched as they both toyed with their empty glasses. "Are we talking about me?" He asked lowly, "Or people in general?"
She turned to face him suddenly, a smile warming her face and the glittering lights dancing in her eyes. "I was referring to people in general. So I suppose that includes you too."
"Ah." He found himself smiling too. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Good." She turned back to the bar and he watched as she tried to get the attention of the goblin to refill her glass. Ask her dance, he thought suddenly, a wild and reckless urge overcoming him. The dance floor in front of the band had filled considerably and he wondered if anyone would really notice if he took her hand. There was really nothing to stop him, no harm asking -
"Trix!"
Her boyfriend appeared through the crowd, rushing towards her. Graves' melancholy sank back onto his shoulders. "Ah, good evening, Mr Graves."
He tried not to grit his teeth. "Good evening...Bobby, isn't it?"
The young man nodded, looking a little pleased to be recognised. When he smiled, he revealed a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. "Bobby Farwell, sir." She was looking between them with a strange expression and she jumped when he slunk an arm around her waist. "I've come to sweep Trix away for a dance."
"Oh!" Her face coloured again but she didn't argue. She gave up trying to get another drink and slipped off the stool, Bobby already leading her away by the hand. She glanced at Graves over her shoulder, "Try not to drink too much!"
His grip on his glass tightened as he watched them dance. Bobby span her and they laughed and swayed and looked right together. Ignoring the lead feeling in his stomach, he turned back to the bar. He gestured for the goblin and ordered a bottle this time. No point in messing about. The goblin paused before sliding the Firewhiskey across the bar with a disapproving look on his face. Graves glared and picked up the bottle and the glass, heading for the door.
He needed to get away for an hour before he was needed for his 'duties'. The cool, dark quiet of his office a few floors below seemed like the perfect place to sulk and drink alone. He had just managed to reach the doors unnoticed when he heard the sound of heels behind him.
"And where do you think you're going, Graves?"
He turned and winced. "Madam President. I thought you'd be busy with our guests."
Picquery raised an arched eyebrow. "Too busy to notice you sneak out, you mean?"
He only just resisted the urge to unstop the bottle of Firewhiskey and take a swig. "I had hoped."
"Hmmm." She studied him with narrow eyes. "There's something going on with you, Graves. You've been in a strange mood for a while now." She seemed to consider her own words before her expression softened. "If this is about Grindelwald - "
"It's not." He said quickly, his expression going cold. The fact that he hardly slept anymore was about Grindelwald. Getting drunk at a party was most definitely not about Grindelwald.
She sighed. "But if it was, any one of us would be happy to help in any way we could."
He was surprised at such an obvious display of friendship and it made him feel a little unsteady. "I...thank you, Madam President."
She nodded and turned to go back inside, stopping halfway. "And wherever you're going, make sure you're back in time for the speeches. You've got about an hour, I'd say."
The entire Law Enforcement floor was deserted, all his colleagues enjoying themselves at the Gala. He left the door to his office open and sat back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. He watched the Firewhiskey swirl in his glass before taking a deep drink.
He closed his eyes and let himself doze. Sleep was so scarce lately that he let himself drift in quiet moments, trying to clear his mind and rest. But the usual image of Grindelwald's pale face swam into view.
The burn of the Cruciatus Curse all over his body, every nerve aflame with agony. The bonds at his wrists cutting into his skin, the feeling of blood trickling onto his palms. He tried to shake the memories and squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenching. That cold, clever voice that knew exactly what to say...
"No one's come for you, Graves." Grindelwald always circled him with that same expression of glee. "What a poor, lonely man. No one's come for you. How long has it been now? A month? And no one's even noticed you're gone." He leaned in and pushed his dark hair back from his face. "I've stolen your life, Graves. And no one gives a damn."
He was trapped, forced to watch a madman step into his life. Why had no one noticed? His eyes burned. He was alone, totally alone -
There was a clatter and Graves' eyes flew open.
It took a moment for him to adjust again. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe away his dark thoughts. He brought the glass of Firewhiskey to his lips and realised his hands were shaking. He downed the rest of the glass and stood, shaking off the memories.
There was the sound of a paper stack falling over and a loud curse. He slowly slipped out of his office and along the corridor, following the sound. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out his wand. Perhaps a good fight was what he needed to shake the cobwebs away.
He pushed open the door silently and raised his wand ready -
And then lowered it again. He took in a long, blue dress and a pile of honey coloured hair.
"Miss Barnes?"
She squeaked in surprise and whipped around, clutching her chest. Then she laughed. "Oh, it's you!"
"What are you doing?" He edged around the desk to join her. "Shouldn't you be at the Gala?"
"Shouldn't you?" She shot back quickly with a smirk. He sighed, fighting a small smile. He was grateful for her disturbing his foggy dreams and he couldn't deny that - while he usually enjoyed being left alone - her company was probably better than that.
"What are you doing?" He asked again, noticing the file in her lap and the fallen pile next to her.
"Oh, I've made a mess. Sorry. But this is important! Look..." She perched on the edge of the desk and opened the file. "You know you arrested that wizard Lesatz this week? The one that kept selling Gigglewater to No-Majs?"
He nodded. He remembered only too well the trail of drunken, guffawing No-Majs he had left in his wake. It had taken the Obliviators days to clear up that mess.
"Well," she continued, obviously excited. "I read that during his interview, he let slip that his son had been helping him. When he was asked about his son directly, he denied that he even had one."
Graves failed to see where this was going. "So? He's criminal, they tend to lie."
She huffed. "Yes, but if he really does have a son, what's to stop him carrying on his father's business? No-Majs paid Lesatz a lot of money for that Gigglewater."
It was a reasonable assumption, he couldn't deny that. "So you've been looking for the son?" She nodded. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have got you some help."
"Well, I had no evidence that he even had a son. Apart from that one slip in the interview, he hasn't mentioned him again. And his records don't show him having a son."
Graves' confusion had returned tenfold. Though the copious amount of Firewhiskey he had downed probably didn't help either. He pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to concentrate. "You've been researching him then? Trying to find how the son is off the records?"
She beamed. "Exactly! I mean, I'm not sure that it is strictly my job but I didn't think I should pass it on until I knew for sure. But I've been searching and searching and I just couldn't find the son at all! I mean, there really is no record! Not even a retraction record to show that Lesatz had hidden his birth. But I had a thought tonight!"
He really was interested now. "Go on."
"Well, we were just discussing marriage and taking on families and so on." Her face had flushed, meaning 'we' obviously meant she and Bobby had been discussing it. Marriage. Graves resisted the urge to retrieve the bottle he had left on his desk. "And that made me think: what if his son isn't actually his biological son? I've been searching for a boy with the Lesatz surname but what if he never took it? What if he still has his mother's surname and Lesatz is his step father? So..." Graves watched, fascinated, as she unravelled the whole case in front of him. "...I dug out Lesatz's wife's records and it shows her having a son in 1904 registered under the name Fredrick Besseler."
She handed the file to him with an air of triumph. He took it, staring at her in awed silence. Her intelligence really was underappreciated by everyone, himself shamefully included. Her smile slipped as she asked, "What?"
He blinked. "Nothing. This - this is good work."
She straightened up and grinned. "I know! I'm impressed with myself."
He flicked through the file. "You should be. I don't know why none of my team picked up on this."
"Well, it's yours now. You can go and catch the bad guy like you always do."
He sighed and flicked the file closed, suddenly feeling weary. His dreams came rushing back to him. "Not always."
To his surprise, she snorted. "As far as I know, only one wizard has ever escaped you. And seen as that was Grindelwald, the most powerful dark wizard of all time, I think we can probably let you off that one."
He sat next to her on the edge of the desk, dangerously teetering on the verge of talking about things he had kept well buried. There was a long silence filled with nothing but the distant echo of the Gala still rumbling on. He had just about swallowed his thoughts when she said,
"I can't imagine what it was like."
"It was..." And just like that, he knew he was going to talk. "It was different to how people think it was. Everyone thinks it was endless torture but...he's smarter than that. He knew how damaging it was to be trapped there while he just took over my life." There was another stretch of silence and he was grateful that she just let him talk. "The worst part was knowing that he did it so easily. He kept telling me that no one even noticed I was gone..."
He trailed off, feeling uncomfortable being so open. He liked everything locked away so he didn't have to look at it very often. She quietly rested her hand on his in his lap. She squeezed his hand and said carefully, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."
He stared at her hand, his eyes fixed on the spot where an engagement ring would probably soon sit. He had a feeling that her getting married would damage him more than Grindelwald had. His fingers started to curl over hers as he began,
"Trixie - "
"Sir!" They both jumped as a nervous looking house elf crept into the room and bowed deeply. "And miss, of course. Our madam President requires your presence at the Gala, sir. Speeches are less approximately two minutes away, sir. Come at once, she says, sir."
Trixie giggled, watching the house elf bow deeply again and shuffle awkwardly out of the room. She gave Graves' hand one last squeeze before letting go. "Come on, we should go back. Bobby's probably wondering where I am, too."
She was smiling but he had the distinct impression that she was trying to avoid his eyes. Kicking himself for his over familiarity, he stood up and straightened his tie, waistcoat and jacket. Whether he liked it or not, he had a job to do. She led the way to the elevator and they both stepped inside quietly, the house elf long gone. As they ascended, she said suddenly,
"I'm always here, you know. If you want to talk about anything."
The thought made him squirm. "Uh, yeah. Thanks. Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said all that stuff. I've had too much to drink."
She smiled and met his gaze at last. Relief flooded him. "I did tell you not to drink too much and look where it's got you: baring your soul to me."
His mood soared at her teasing. Outwardly though, he just grumbled. "Yes, yes, Miss Barnes - you're right, as usual."
The doors opened and he followed her, taking a deep breath. Picquery was glaring at him from just inside the doorway to the Gala, tapping an invisible watch on her wrist. He was just about to reluctantly bid farewell to Miss Barnes but she got there first, turning to him with a smile.
"Good luck then, Mr Graves. Have fun socialising with all those politicians."
He groaned. "Don't mock me, Miss Barnes."
She stopped next to him, wrestling with something in her head. Eventually, she said, "And don't think that no one noticed, Mr Graves. We might not have guessed that it was Grindelwald, but we knew something was wrong."
He felt pathetically touched. "Oh."
She fidgeted on the spot. "I just thought you should know that. When we heard what had happened..." She stared at her feet for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "We were all very worried about you."
He wanted to ask her how many people she really meant by 'we'. Most of MACUSA? Most of his department? Or just her? It felt wrong to be happy at the notion of her being worried about him but it was better than thinking no one had been bothered at all. "Thank you."
She touched his arm briefly. "Good night then, Mr Graves."
She swept off to the Gala and he thought that he really should say something complimentary to her, especially since she had listened to him and been so patient...
"Miss Barnes?"
She wheeled around, the beading on her dress dazzling him as she spun. He hesitated before deciding to throw caution to the wind. "You look...good." Was that the best he had? Really?
Her eyes widened. "Oh...well...thank you." Then she regained some of composure and said, "You could have at least changed your tie." She laughed. "Good night, sir."
He watched her weave through the crowd and out of sight, probably searching for Bobby. But for once, he didn't feel quite so disheartened and alone. He wandered over to President Picquery and greeted the assembled politicians with only half a grimace. Trixie Barnes would be proud.