If I Risk It All
Six months after the real Percival Graves returned to his position as Director of Magical Security, Queenie slipped into his office with a cup of coffee, two chocolate biscuits balanced upon the saucer.
"Reporting for duty," she said, voice low, as she set the offering upon his desk.
Graves's head snapped up from where he'd been bent over paperwork. Despite his smart robes, his collar was open at the neck and he looked weary; two imperfections Grindelwald had never displayed. Strangely enough, seeing the flaws in the man made her feel safer, rather than otherwise.
"What?" He fixed her with a steely glare. "What duty?"
Queenie fluffed her hair and smiled. "Oh, Mr Graves, there's no need to be coy." She caught his gaze and held it, skimming along the surface of his mind. "Your mind is so loud, I can hear you shouting your displeasure all the way from down in the tearoom."
The walls around his mind crashed into place; Queenie was already mentally retreating. She'd heard enough. Truly, she'd been thinking about it ever since she'd caught the first glimpse of the thought those long six months ago.
"'What if Goldstein's empty headed sister was less of a baby vamp* and more a bearcat**?'" she quoted. The tips of Graves's ears turned pink, but he didn't deny it.
"Well, Mr Graves, you see, I can be fiery when I want to." Queenie blushed and glanced to the side. "I've just been working up the nerve, is all."
She cleared her throat. "You need someone like me, I just know it. Who'd expect little old me to be spying for MACUSA, anyhow?"
Silence fell about the room. Queenie smoothed down her skirt, looking up to catch Graves following the motion with his eyes. He seemed to be taking the all of her in, perhaps seeing who she truly was for the first time.
"And it just so happens to be that your decision coincides with your sister's wedding and subsequent move to England?" he asked, gaze shrewd.
"A lucky coincidence, is all," Queenie said with a smile.
"Hmm." Graves picked up the coffee and tapped it with his wand, a flash of spells declaring it safe to consume. Queenie didn't mind that; with Grindelwald on the loose, they were all on edge and jumping at shadows.
"And you think you've got the cunning and the wit needed to become a spy?" he asked. He dipped a biscuit in the coffee and took a bite.
Queenie bit her lip. "Yes, sir. And I have a question for you, sir. Why haven't you asked me to help already?"
"Tina asked me not to and she's too invaluable to the team to upset," Graves said without pause. He frowned and abruptly set the coffee aside. "You've drugged me," he said. "Some form of truth serum?"
He seemed more bewildered than upset. "How? I checked the coffee."
Queenie offered him a sly smile. "But not the biscuits. The second one has the antidote."
Brown eyes settled upon her and for once in her life Queenie felt as if she were the one with all her secrets exposed, rather than the other way around.
"My, my, Miss Goldstein, aren't you full of surprises?" Graves considered the second biscuit then took a bite.
"My eyes are green," he tried, then nodded.
"So?" Queenie tried not to sound too hopeful.
"A clever trick. Don't do it again," Graves said. He stood, walking around from behind his desk and offered his hand.
"You're hired, Miss Goldstein, to the Magical Intelligence Agency. There's no going back now." Something in his eyes twinkled like a smile, even as his expression remained stern. "Don't tell your sister."
Queenie shook his hand, her heart beating like a hummingbird's.
"My lips are sealed," she promised.
The life of a spy was surprisingly dull. Queenie lived her usual life, bar the fact that Tina had disappeared to England and was acting as a liaison to the British Aurors. Her absence ached like a missing limb, so Queenie kept busy and worked hard. Occasionally, Queenie would be sent to a bar or a restaurant and asked to listen for anything untoward, but nothing more strenuous.
She wrote all her observations down into a notepad, encrypted with a key that changed on a daily basis. It had been sitting on her desk three days after her conversation with Graves, with a short, unsigned note that explained how to use it. The key, along with her assignment, she learned each day from Graves's mind, skimming from the top of his thoughts when he was within a floor or two of her.
It was lonely. Queenie took to writing commentary alongside her observations. Perhaps the opinion of a dumb Dora*** was of no use at all, but it warmed her, being able to contribute in some small way.
Occasionally, she saw a name she'd jotted down appear in the lists of those arrested. On those days she floated around MACUSA, feet barely touching the floor, and treated everyone she served with treats from Kowalski's bakery (Jacob still did not remember her) and brownies made by her own hand. She'd catch Graves's eye and he'd nod at her from across the hall, an acknowledgement and a secret wrapped up in one innocuous signal.
It sent a thrill of electricity up her spine each and every time.
The Blind Pig was a den full of disreputable creatures, be they witch, wizard, goblin, or elf. She'd only been once, when Newt had been seeking his escaped beasts. Gnarlack's mind had been as gnarly as his name. Non-human minds were often too difficult for her to even glimpse a single thought from.
It seemed, however, that Graves wished for her to return there. For once, she was to be accompanied, for which she was grateful.
The thought of returning to the speakeasy made her stomach roil. Gnarlack and his men would surely recognise her and without backup she might have been tempted to refuse.
Instead, she entered Graves's office later that night, knee length fur coat draped over her shoulders, hiding the sequin slip dress she wore beneath. She'd caught her reflection in a window on the way up, her diamond earrings shimmering in the candle light.
She'd looked… indecent and glamourous and decadent. She felt glorious.
Graves's back was turned when she entered the room, fiddling with his bowtie in a mirror hidden inside one of his cabinets. He cut a striking figure in his waistcoat and pinstripes.
"Good evening, Director Graves," she murmured when he seemed not to notice her.
"I'm a few minutes away – get comfortable," he said, yanking at his collar. Queenie shrugged off the fur coat and approached him instead.
"Here, let me tie that for you, honey."
Graves sighed. "Perhaps you better." Turning back to her, his eyes flickered over her outfit and his mental walls slammed shut. Queenie pretended not to notice, stepping forward to help knot the bow. Mentally, however, she was reeling.
He'd thought she looked gorgeous, for that half a second she'd been allowed to snoop.
Now she was aware of it, all Queenie could feel was Graves's body heat as she straightened the tie. She wondered if he'd thought of her like that before and had just hidden his true feelings well. She wondered what would happen if she stepped just a little bit closer.
Queenie was used to being wanted, but not by someone with whom she had such a visceral reaction in turn.
She stepped back instead, resisting the temptation to stroke her hands down the front of his waistcoat. Again, the tips of his ears were flushed.
"You look quite divine, Miss Goldstein," Graves said, before moving away. He slipped on his jacket, composed once more, and Queenie collected her coat. She thought, perhaps, this visit might prove to be even more productive than the last.
"Ready?"
They linked arms and Apparated to The Blind Pig. The sound of jazz was on the air – it promised freedom.
Queenie smiled and looked up. The moon was just a sliver in the sky; the night was yet young.
The morning of Queenie's birthday went largely unremarked. She received flowers and cards, but nothing from Tina, which was a real shame. When she was called to Graves's office by an urgent thought of his, she made haste, but couldn't quite summon her usual carefree smile. There was another presence within his office, one that was muted, as if someone were shielding them.
She knocked and then walked straight in. "Director Graves?" she said, then her jaw dropped.
"Surprise!" Tina said, spreading her arms with a grin, usual grey coat flapping off her shoulders.
"Teenie!" Queenie sobbed and rushed forward, hugging her absent sister. The shielding dropped and Queenie could feel every inch of Tina's familiar, precious, welcoming mind.
"Don't you worry me like that," she scolded. Eventually, she had to draw back. "Look at you."
Tina look flushed and full of vitality. "Married life suits you," Queenie said knowingly.
"Queenie!" Tina spluttered and turned scarlett.
Graves, whom she'd largely ignored, was struggling to hide his amusement. Queenie glanced over at him and skimmed the secret he'd been keeping from her these last few days – he was the one who'd organised Tina's visit.
"Happy Birthday, Queenie," he said, aware she'd brushed against his mind.
She embraced Tina again, mouthing 'thank you' at Graves. He smiled back at her.
Overwhelmed, Queenie buried her face in Tina's shoulder, hiding behind her curls. No one had ever been as generous as Graves had been to her. Yet, he was still a mystery. His mastery of Occlumency was enough that should he wish to hide any affection he might have felt for her, then he very well could.
She didn't know how long she'd been clinging to Tina when Graves cleared his throat.
"Begone, you two troublemakers. I don't want to see you back here until tomorrow, do you understand?"
Queenie understood the freedom he'd granted them perfectly. She grabbed Tina's hand, pulling her out of Graves's office.
"There's so much I have to tell you, come on. I know a perfect spot, this tiny little bakery," she said.
Tina's grin widened "Lead the way." They hugged again in the elevator before collapsing into giggles. Red, the goblin that manned the elevator, seemed glad to be ride of them as they exited the Woolworth building.
"So," Tina began, mirth in her eyes. Queenie knew what she was going to say before she could utter it. "You and Mr Gr-mpf!"
Queenie jammed her hand over Tina's mouth and tugged her in the direction of Kowalski's Bakery.
"He has been very kind to me," Queenie said. "And that is all."
Tina narrowed her eyes, brows raised. "Has he," she said, but she let the subject drop. Queenie turned away to hide her blush and focused instead on her sister's future.
"So how is Newt?"
"Exactly as he always was," Tina said, a soft smile upon her face, and Queenie was glad.
Tina could not stay for long, but Queenie did not mind that, for seeing her had been enough to last her several more months. She had a job to do herself, after all. Still, despite her work, she could not help sneak glances at Graves. She found herself flustered by the very thought of him. She wondered whether he ever thought of her and realised that this was what all other lovers had to go through; the uncertainty and doubt and fear. She admired them all the more for it.
One evening, however, she found she could not bear it. She had been working late, making notes on the latest batch of smugglers, but the knowledge that Percival was three floors up and working too was driving her to distraction. She could sense his mind, an idle warmth in the back of her own.
The elevator ride seemed to take an age, but at least the night worker was not looking to make conversation. She burst into Graves's office. The door clattered against the wall as it swung open.
He looked up from his desk, startled. In that instant, his thoughts were plainer than they'd ever been. She was both furious and relieved.
"Queenie? Are you quite alright?"
Queenie huffed. "No! You – you infuriating man!"
She pushed the door shut and locked it with a flick of her wand. Graves stood, his hands tucked into his pockets. He gazed at her, bewilderment upon his face.
Queenie stalked forward until they were nose to nose. Revelation was beginning to dawn upon Graves's face. She took a hold of his tie, but instead of yanking it like she'd intended to, she smoothed it down his chest, the silk soft beneath her singers.
"You are one highly infuriating man," she informed him.
"I'm beginning to realise that," Graves said, his voice low. His hands slipped out of his pockets and settled upon her waist, burning her with his touch. She wanted to be set aflame.
"I thought you knew," he said, his voice husky. "I thought you could tell. I've hardly been subtle, my dear."
"You were wrong," Queenie said, breathless. She swayed forward and stole a kiss. An inferno burned within her.
"Queenie," he whispered. "You are truly magnificent."
Queenie smiled even as she pressed their mouths together once more. "Why, Mr Graves, you flatter me."
Graves chuckled. "As I ought."
He pulled her close and she went willingly. Who else could she risk her heart upon?
With Graves, she knew it was no risk at all.
*baby vamp is 1920's slang for an attractive/popular female
** bearcat is 1920's slang for a fiery girl
*** dumb Dora is 1920's slang for an absolute idiot/flapper
Word Count: 2258
Hogwarts Assignment #4 Women's History Task 2: Spy!AU
Back to School 7. (object) Desk
Character Appreciation Queenie Goldstein 17. (skill) Reading Minds [bonus for using Queenie]
Disney Challenge 3. Write about a stern character.
Dark Lady 8. Shimmering
Showtime 10. (dialogue) "No going back now."
Amber's Attic 4. "I swear that when our lips touch, I can taste the next sixty years of my life."
Emy's Emporium 6. (word) Jazz
Lo's Lowdown 4. Write about someone who is underestimated.
Bex's Basement 4. Write about someone being brave.