It had been a particularly good year for Newton Scamander. He had published his book to international acclaim, finally proving to the world (and, more importantly, to himself) that he was doing worthwhile work. He had gone on a tour across the globe, giving lectures and educating young witches and wizards everywhere about the importance of understanding magical creatures. He had even gone back to give a speech at Hogwarts, where he was awarded with a standing ovation - a particularly proud moment in his life, considering his tumultuous time attending the school in his youth. And to top it all off, just this morning with his daily paper, he had received an owl informing him that the Ministry of Magic had awarded him another grant for further field research. Yes, it had been a productive year, indeed.

Newt headed into the Ministry with an extra skip in his step, intent on meeting straight away with the Minister for Magic to formally accept his offer, and to begin planning for his next trip abroad. Hector Fawley's office door was shut, and Newt debated for a moment before steeling his resolve and knocking on the door exactly twice. Three times, he thought, would be excessive. The door swept open to reveal Hector at his desk, peering over his glasses at some paperwork.

"Newt!" Hector bellowed, smiling. "Come in, come in!"

Newt glanced at the man, giving him a half-smile and stepping into the room. "Good morning, Minister," he said, taking note of the Puffskein cooing happily on his desk.

"I've told you a thousand times to call me Hector, Newton," the Minister said, not looking up from his paperwork.

"Right, sir, sorry...Hector...sir." Newt cringed at himself. "I've just… I've come to accept your offer, sir."

"Offer?" The Minister said, finally looking up. "Oh! Yes! Offer!" He stood up then, knocking some of his paperwork onto the floor and banging the desk hard enough to wake up his Puffskein. Newt bent down to help scoop up the papers. "Oh, leave them, leave them," he chuckled, reaching his hand out to Newt. "Congrations, Scamander."

Newt glanced at the Minister's hand and, after some consideration, shook it once before dropping it and wiping his hand on his jacket as discreetly as possible.

"Thank you so much, Minister, I am deeply honored."

"Hector," the Minister said, smiling.

"Sorry?" Newt said. The Minister shook his head.

"Nevermind, nevermind," he chuckled. Just then a soft knock came from the doorway.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes, Stella?" The Minister said, addressing his secretary. She looked afraid of him.

"I'm so sorry, but Mr. Scamander is needed in his office. He has an applicant waiting."

Newt frowned. An applicant? He wasn't aware of having any meeting that morning, which was odd, because he hated them so much he always knew exactly when he was expected to be in one.

"Of course, of course," the Minister said. "Hurry along, Newt. Once you've made travel plans, let me know."

Newt forced a small smile, still preoccupied by his unknown visitor. "Thank you, sir, I will."

"Hector!" The Minister called out after him, but Newt was already gone, hurrying towards his office, curiousity peaked.

You had often wondered what Newton Scamander's office would look like. Sitting here now you decided it seemed appropriate. It was cozy, no bigger than a closet - but you supposed he wasn't actually here that often. In it was a small wooden desk plastered with notes in his scribbled hand. Behind his desk was a chair, but instead of one you'd typically find in an office, it was a tufted yellow armchair that looked well-loved. A small desk lamp illuminated the room with a soft, amber glow. The walls were covered by bookshelves, and his library seemed to contain every book you'd ever read, plus about one hundred more. In front of his desk sat a shabby ottoman, which is where you currently sat, waiting not-so-patiently for the better part of half an hour.

You sighed, drumming your fingers atop his desk, reading one of the notes he'd made. Basilisks, it read, can be bred by hatching a chicken egg under a toad. You raised an eyebrow, tracing your finger over his hasty sketch of the creature in question. His drawing made the Basilisk look almost friendly. The sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway made you look up.

"Mr. Scamander," you said, standing with a little difficulty. "It's an honor." You watched his eyes flick down to your leg, which you had nursed as you stood. He was much taller than you had expected, and much thinner. You had seen his picture in the papers, of course, and on the cover of his book… but he seemed much younger in person. He glanced up at you, not quite smiling or frowning, choosing instead to clench his jaw.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said, stepping into the room, "but who are you?"

"My name is Autumn Taylor," you watched him as he fixed his gaze somewhere above your right shoulder. He seemed to be waiting for you to finish. "I, uh… work here at the Ministry," you offered.

Newt seemed to be working out something in his head, and you felt as if talking more would disturb him. He furrowed his brow. "Were we scheduled to meet today?"

"Well," you said, biting your lip, "not exactly." You thought you could see the hint of a smile form at the corner of his mouth, but it was gone before you could be sure. He crossed the room then, stepping behind his desk and removing his jacket. He draped it over the arm of his chair and sat. "Mr. Scamander," you started, "I'm sorry to barge into your office like this, but I wanted to apply for your research assistant job."

"My what?" he asked, staring down at his desk. "I don't… I haven't posted for any research assistant."

You sat down, sighing. "No," you said slowly, "you haven't yet." This time Newt did give you a half-smile.

"Yet?" He asked.

"I know you've just been awarded a new research grant," you said. His eyes flicked up to yours, surprised.

"How…?"

"I'm skilled," you pressed on. "I have the highest scores of any of my peers in the Ministry for Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts - "

"But," Newt interrupted, "I don't quite need an assistant. I've never used one before." He looked at you from the corner of his eye. You smiled.

"I'm sure you could have used one, at some point," you said confidently. "You can't tell me everything you did in the field went off without a hitch."

Newt was quiet for a moment. "Maybe not without a hitch," he admitted. You grinned.

"All I'm saying is that now you'll be doing even more in-depth research. You'll have to go deeper, get more up close and personal… you're going to need someone to help with Charms, healing potions, protection spells…"

"What do you do here at the Ministry?" He asked you.

"I… well… I'm an administrator. That's how I knew you got a grant… I processed it myself." You raised your chin, daring him to question you. He looked at you fully now, and for the first time you noticed his green eyes and the expanse of freckles that covered his nose. He raised an eyebrow at you.

"An administrator?" He asked. "Why would someone with such excellent marks be filing paperwork?" You grimaced. At your silence he shook his head. "I don't see how -"

"I was training to be an Auror," you said quickly, interrupting him. You stared at the desk ahead of you, flushing. "My leg was injured, as you've noticed, I'm sure. Nobody will put me in the field, now that I'm a liability." You were both silent for a moment.

"What makes you think I'm different?" Newt said quietly. You smirked before looking up to meet his gaze.

"I've read your book, Mr. Scamander. I don't think the word 'liability' is in your vocabulary."

Newt cocked his head, studying your face, a small smile playing on his lips. "What did you say your name was?" He asked. You grinned.

"Autumn."

"Autumn," he said. "Why on earth would you want to assist me?"

You sat up straight, rolling your shoulders back. "Because I'm tired of seeing men with half my talent get promoted over me. I'm capable of more than filing letters, Mr. Scamander. People assume things about me all the time, but I'm stronger than they think. I know you understand how that feels."

You had Newt's attention now. He stared at you for a long moment after you had finished talking, his lips held in a tight, thin line.

"When… when could you start?" He said, finally. You beamed at him.

"Whenever you need, Mr. Scamander." He flinched.

"Newt," he said.

"Whenever you need, Newt," you said, grinning. He smiled.

"Oh," he said, shaking his head, "I'm so sorry, you must need to put in your notice first." You stood up, easier this time, your leg suddenly not bothering you at all.

"I put in my notice before I came to your office this morning," you said.

Newt's eyes snapped to yours, wide with surprise. You bit your lip to keep from laughing. "I told you, Newt… I'm a capable woman." He opened his mouth to answer, blushed profusely, and closed it. You turned to leave his office, stopping just before the door. "Monday, then?"

Newt managed to collect himself long enough to nod and offer you a weak smile. "Yes…" he said. "Monday, it is, then."