After the flower ordeal, Medea did everything possible to focus solely on her job, but her mind just kept spinning. When four finally rolled around, she was eager to escape the building and run home, except it wasn't that simple. She had to go about her life like nothing was wrong. There was a slight panic in the back of her mind like she was being watched, but she didn't dare look around the main lobby to see where it was coming from. She dreaded the idea of meeting his eyes in the crowd. Unknown to Medea, if she did take a look around, the only eyes she'd find locked onto her belonged to Graves. He stood near the balcony of the second floor watching the young woman wait patiently for Newt. When he arrived, Medea was going to break it to him that she couldn't come over tonight. She racked her brain for an excuse. Then decided against it after listening to Newt talk about how excited he was and what he planned on cooking. Medea didn't have the heart to lie to him and not show. After all, the clock was ticking.

Medea help Newt to feed his beasts, then apparated over to Tina's. Her sister wouldn't be home for a few more hours, but it was suggested she came early just to simply hang out. A term Medea wasn't used to hearing or doing. Back home in Romania, she didn't have very many friends. People in her small town avoided her because of her strange job. It wasn't until she met him that she finally came out of her shell and began to experience life. She had finally found a sense of belonging. Someone finally understood her and loved her for who she was. Until it all went south once more.

Tina's sister, Queenie, arrived thirty minutes late. It was understandable considering her job, so no one made a fuss over the matter. This was the first time Queenie and Medea had met face to face. They had seen each other in passing and offered a nod or smile in acknowledge, but never spoke. It served for an interesting night.

They had all sat around a table in the kitchen, enjoying the food Newt had prepared. Medea couldn't remember the last time someone had cooked for her, besides Graves. It was probably her mother many years ago before her passing.

They were having a peaceful conversation until Queenie spilled the beans. "Medea is having a romantic relationship with Graves." She spoke fast, practically blurting it out fearing some sort of interruption. She didn't know why it was so important for her sister to be aware of this. In a way, she just wanted someone to warn Medea.

Tina almost laughed. "What?"

"Goldstein!" Medea shouted at the younger sister.

"Why?" Tina continued.

"If he's so horrible. I can't be much better." Those were the last words Medea spoke before exiting their apartment and apparating right back to her own. As soon as she plopped down on the couch , her phone rang. With a heavy sigh, she stood back up fearing it was Queenie calling to apologize. "Hello?" She spoke into the receiver.

"Would you like company?"

"You couldn't have more perfect timing." Medea hung up the phone and within a second, there was a knock at her door.

"Something on your mind?" Graves asked, coming inside the apartment, noticing the slight worrisome look on Medea's face.

"I sort of just stormed out of blonde's place."

"Goldstein?" He questioned, resulting in Medea responding with a nod. "What happened?" Medea sighed, telling him could affect Tina's job and make how poor Graves already treated her much worse, but that wasn't her problem. She went into the kitchen to make some tea as he followed.

"They warned me about you...in their own a way."

"What did they say?" He asked, crossing his arm and leaning against the counter opposite of her.

"I don't want to get into it. It's not really important."

Graves stood silently for a moment, thinking. "Are you going to follow their warning?" She stopped what she was doing and turned to stare deep into his dark eyes.

"Do I have a reason to?"

His lips parted slightly, pondering the question. Did she? Of course. "No." He replied. Only an idiot would speak the truth in the moment like this. He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not ever. Medea let out the breath she was holding, her eyes darted away from his gaze, to the tea cups on the counter, and onto the floor. Her heart raced in her chest as he took two steps forward. "I would never allow anything bad to happen to you."

"Promise?" She whispered, looking back up. He stood directly in front of her. Leaning down only slightly with the two inch difference in their height, Graves placed his lips onto hers. It all felt completely familiar to her. Like she had done this a million times before. The kiss was simple, short, sweet, yet pure bliss. Medea found herself on cloud nine, but still held herself back from being overcome with emotion. There was still so much more that needed to be said between the pair. So many secrets and fears she kept locked away that she knew she would have to spill to him if anything between them was going to work. It would come out all in a matter of time.

"I promise."

Graves sat silent, thinking. "I want to take you somewhere."

"What? Now?" She laughed lightly, as Graves stood up and grabbed their coats. The air felt heavy and they both needed a breather. Graves knew just the place to bring her spirits up once more.

"Yes. Now."

"But it's nearly eleven o'clock at night." Graves helped Medea slip on her coat, then placed his arms through his, slipping it onto his shoulders. "Where could we possibly go?"

"Well, my dear, that's the beauty of being a wizard." He smiled. "I can go wherever I please." He held out his hand resulting in Medea gasping it firmly. The feeling of being sucked into a small tube overcame Medea and when they landed, they were surrounded by trees.

"Where are we going?" Medea giggled as Graves kept a hold of her hand, pulling her along.

"You'll see." They walked briskly until they came out to a clearing with a sidewalk. Down the sidewalk was a ticket booth, benches, and a fenced area. They stopped in front of sign labeled Central Park Zoo.

"The Central Park Zoo?" Medea gaped at the sign in awe. "I've always wanted to go to a zoo."

"Yeah, I..-" Graves caught himself. Medea looked over, not fully hearing what he said as she was in too much shock.

"What?" She questioned, thinking she missed him saying something important.

"No. Nothing." With a flick of Graves' wand, they were inside the gates. Most of the animals were already asleep, so there wasn't much excitement going on. Especially with it being that time of year when the nights were significantly more chilly than the day. They managed to take a glimpse of a zebra, two hippos, and a giraffe. After walking around for a bit, they wandered over to a small pond with a family of swans swimming about. Graves still had her hand clutched in his own as they walked the to edge of the water.

"I have to tell you something, but I am terrified." Medea confessed, not daring to look over at him as he focused his attention on her.

The woman knew she had to tell the truth about who she really was. Things had become difficult with the new people in the case and Nimoy being after her, but the main problem was the flame that existed between her and the man standing in front of her. She could not understand why but this man could understand her better than anyone. She knew every thought and move she would make before she thought it over, it might have been scary but the woman was crazy about that feeling. The biggest problem was that her brother had kidnapped and tortured the man who made her feel emotions beyond anger and avenged her. He knew that if he told the truth, everything could be destroyed but Graves was worth learning the truth.

''I want to say something first'' He offers, a reassurance that he wouldn't be scared of her and wouldn't leave her, unable to keep his charming smile to himself and being rewarded with a heartfelt one from her.

''Please , don't '' Medea denies with a shake of her head.

Graves opened his mouth to speak, but paused. His breath could be seen in the cold of the night. "I think I am...falling...in love with you.". She still refused to glance her direction, fearing he'd see a look of horror on her face, and he would be rejected.

He cannot be in love with her, after all Medea Ace was broken.

It must have been the Nomoy that had done this to her. There, she had been trained to block off her feelings. To keep them hidden. Emotions were easily manipulated. Anyone in their line of work knew that. It was better to stop them from happening in the first place than to ignore them once they were already there.

She remembers when she was young. She was a good girl, obedient, deadly...everything a good spy should be. Her success was built on not getting punished. A day without pain induced by her handlers was a good one.

One day, her handlers brought her a prisoner. A girl, only a year or two older than Medea herself. At first glance, she knew that the other was one of her brethren. Another girl warped by the them.

She was ordered to kill her.

She did, without question.

Later, she heard from one of the others why the girl was executed. "She deserted," they said. "She fell in love with her target and tried to run away with him. But they found her soon enough."

That night, as she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, she wondered. What a powerful force this love must be to make someone like her go against everything she's ever known.

Medea knew how to manipulate people. She knew how to make them want her, she knew how to wrap them around her finger until she had full control over their minds and actions. Was that love, what they had shown her? Was that love that she was taking advantage of?

As the years went on, she learned more about love. It was still mysterious, though. Elusive. She could never quite pinpoint what it meant.

She barely felt anything when she slept with her targets. Only the same dullness as there was in every part of her life.

That was not love, she decided. She did not want them how they wanted her. She could put a bullet in their heads without a second thought.

Then she met Newt. And Newt was...different. For the first time in her life, someone looked at her and thought she was worth saving. He took her back, back to his own house. He didn't even seem to bat an eye at letting a trained super spy into his home.

He made her food, and let her use his shower. He seemed to have no ill intentions with her, but still, she was on high alert. No one did something for nothing.

But nothing happened. He gave her some clean clothes, and said she could sleep in the guest bedroom.

She was nervous. She didn't want to sleep, not when someone else could get the upper hand.

Newt understood, though. He showed her that the room had a window, with a fire escape down onto the street. He gave her a key, to lock the door from the inside.

And then he left. He told her that she could leave, if she wanted too.

But she didn't.

And it was great. For the first time in Medea's life, she felt like she could breathe. It still wasn't the safest of jobs. She spent a majority of her time looking over her shoulder. But now she had Newt. Someone who cared about her. And soon she realized she cared about him back.

Was that love? Was that the stuff of romance movies and fantasies? The thing everyone talked about but she had never known?

It wasn't.

She loved Newt. But...it wasn't like that. It wasn't romance, or sex, or anything like that. She saw him as a brother, and he saw her as a sister.

Medea was a little disappointed. She thought that she had finally found it, that she had finally understood what everyone had been talking about. But she still had time, right?

Then there was Percival Graves. Beautiful Percy, who was so hard and formal on the outside, but it all melted away once he was off of the spotlight. When he let himself go, there was no one quite like him.

Medea thought she fell in love, a little bit. She admired Graves' dark hair, his strength, and his ability to care. And she knew Graves admired her too. She caught him giving her soft smiles, and she would always return them. They grew closer. She thought that maybe this was love.

And it was love. Maybe because they were all too similar. Medea and Graves were both fighters. They had been trained to fight, and that's all they had ever known. She had trouble hiding her emotions around him- she wanted to tell him about her dreams, her fears, everything. She had never felt a connection like that with someone before, and truth be told it scared her.

It was...nice, but it felt wrong. She felt as if she was putting up another front, another disguise that looked good from the outside but stabbed her with jagged edges on the inside.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't keep up this illusion, not one that took up the small part of her life that was at least a little bit separate from her work.

"'Medea?" He asked. He noticed the tears running down her face. "Medea, what's wrong?"

And she couldn't help herself. She started to sob.

Graves got up and pulled her into a tight hug. "Shhh. Shhh. It's okay."

He held her while she cried, never pushing her. Finally, when she could talk without sobbing and open her eyes without water flowing out of them, she told him something.

''You are going to hate me''She muttered deeply, keeping her head turned away from him.

"Medea…"

If ever Medea could feel her heart break, it was then. Hearing Graves call to her in such a hesitant manner.

"I don't deserve you!"

Graves inhales sharply. "Medea I don't know what you are talking about, I think..."

"You don't understand".Medea cuts Graves off by stepping aggressively into his space, the threat of violence in his eyes.

"Make me understand then!"Graves says quietly, staring at the stone next to Medea's feet.

"You don't know everything about me"

"You fall in love with a lie"Medea laughs lightly. "I am not the woman I am says I am.. If you learn the truth you will hate me and you will throw me in a cell leaving me to die there"

"I… Medea…" Graves looks up now into Medea's face, takes a step even further towards Medea, and Medea's heart is hammering. She wants to turn, wants to run, but she can't. "I am aware of your past. I know about the murders but I don't give a shit. I don't care if you don't have magic , the only that matter to me is if.. ." Graves pauses. His hand comes gently to Medea's shoulder, her head hangs slightly so that they are eye-to-eye. "Medea…" and his voice is hoarse and vulnerable and he's rawer than Medea has ever seen him and why doesn't he stop now, stop while they still can preserve the past lifetime intact "do you love me?"

She doesn't say it, then, and somewhere through the rushing of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart she hears herself say:

"No."

And Graves steps back, and any openness is gone, and Medea follows it out, through the door of Zoo and away from Graves and everything that was supposed to have been.

" I'm sorry again, I really, really am."

"Once Medea has been missing from the dinner , Newt seeks her out in her quarters. The sharp rap on the door goes unanswered at first, but when Newt tentatively calls out Medea comes to answer.

The heavy wood door swings open to reveal Medea with dark sunken eyes and the distinct odor of the unwashed. His appearance points to Medea's not having left her rooms for some time, and from the bags under her eyes, she hasn't been spending the time resting.

"Are you alright, Medea? Are you ill?" Newt pushes immeditately into the room. "You should lie down, here, if you need me to prepare something-" He stops suddenly as he finally glances away from Medea's face and to the room. It's in chaos, as if it had been ransacked, and a number of bags lay filled on the floor with books and jars.

"Medea." Newt's tone has changed- his jaw is tight and his gaze is a accusatory mix of anger and pity. "What are you doing."

"There's nothing left here." She turns to the shelf, snatching a book and shoving it into a bag.

"Medea, stop, Medea-" Newt follows, takes her by the shoulders. "Tell me what is happening. Right now."

"I let my walls down. I let myself to care for others..I le" Medea jerks away. She hasn't met Newt's eyes."I...let this person in. I let him in. I don't let people in. You knew this, and he'd taken her from me. I needed him and he'd broken me."

"Medea. What happened?" Silence. The book goes in the bag, and Medea squats before it. "You need to take a breath. Come with me." He gestures to Medea. Maybe if they go out to the woods…

"He said he is in love with me." Medea doesn't look up from the bag.

This time it's Newt who freezes.

"What did you say?"

She laughs, jarringly. "Says what?. He fall in love with a lie. I am Medea Grindelwald, twin sister of Gellert Grindelwald, a man who destroyed the half New York and revolutioned against MACUSA and all the authorities."

All aroynd the world, the sky was a dull grey, with dark clouds rumbling in the distance. The rain was coming down in heaps, beating angrily against the pristine glass of the top floor at MACUSA. An occasional burst of lighting brightened the otherwise dimly lit room every now and then, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Graves sat at his grand mahogany desk and stared off into the distance.

The weather was bleak, matching the apathetic feeling deep seated in the black eyed man's heart. It was rather comical really, how the depressing weather matched his current mood, and it was oh so cliché. He couldn't help but feel silly.

Melancholy wasn't very becoming of him he know, but he couldn't help himself. He felt himself becoming more despondent with each passing day.

How ironic was it? The man who had everything could not have the one thing he'd truly desire. No amount of money, no amount of power, and no amount of wishful thinking would ever change that. It was the first real thing he had felt in a very long time, and it clawed at his heart.

Maybe it was a miscalculation on his part. An error in his thinking.

He stared at the sky with a bland expression.

What a fool he was.

No amount of apologies could mend the ice he felt squeezing at his heart. He didn't understand. Why had the woman needed to apologize to him so profusely? Why had those warm blue eyes decided to reflect pity at him? It would have been much easier if it had cursed at him, or laughed at him.

He didn't need pity. He didn't want it. It should have been black or white. Why did Medea insist on making things grey?

The man set the papers down on his desk quietly and shut his laptop. He was beginning to feel a bit morose again. Perhaps he needed to go for a drive, or perhaps a walk to clear his mind. He stood up from his desk and stared out the window.

"You fall in love with a lie"

What befitting weather. Percival Graves was definitely an all or nothing type of guy. He didn't do half assed. So when he succeeded he did so with flying colors. When he won it was by miles. And when he got his heart broken it was bound to be devastating.

He felt a wave of melancholy wash over him as he imagined a familiar mop of sunny white hair.

He also remembered the wide—well they were usually wide but this wide wasn't her starry wide eyed expression that Graves was so fond of-no... Medea was scared. His Medea was scared.

Of what?

Graves was drowned in his thoughts and It was by pure accident, actually that he happened to catch the conversation going on behind his door between the his secretary and Queenie. He wasn't even listening, but the moment the bald man mentioned "Ace", he found himself putting down his glass and stiffening immediately.

"It's true?"

Graves narrowed her eyes as the Queenie tutted. "Newt came in our house in tears talking about her." She shook her head, laughing. "I might be scared of her but I don't know what happened to make her walk way!"

"She is gone!"

With this statement, Graves' heart began to pound. No, he told himself, he would not accept defeat.

"She is leaving New York tonight." His heart pounded in his ears, his lungs wished to be used his vision cleared once again with purpose. "And there is nothing Newt or someone can do to stop her."

"Like hell there isn't!"

Auros and secretaries, women and commoners men witnessing something that was truly frightening. They all saw as their director zoomed from corridor to corridor, pillar to pillar, running at top speed. His eyes blazed with purpose as he ran all across the castle to reach his hunter in time. He looked around the bullpen. Then he figured it out. Kedea's desk was a lot cleaner than he had ever seen it. In fact, Ace's desk was completely clean. He discovered, much to his dismay, after frantically opening and closing several drawers.

Miss President and Giselle Balck came in just in time to see Graves mumbling to himself and frantically going through the hunter's desk. It made them a little concerned for his mental health.

"Where is ACE ?! Where the HELL is Ace!?" Graves kept repeating over and over again.

Once more he opened a few drawers. This time concentrating on the file cabinet. Not finding what he expected to find. He slammed the drawers shut and spun around to confront them.

"Where. Is. Ace?" Graves demanded, barely able to hold back his rage. He planted he feet on the step and glared up at the director.

Inside, Seraphine was loving what she was seeing. She could not deny the small amount of glee she felt. She then schooled her expression and prepared herself to handle her irate director.

Seraphine sighed and looked at her watch. " I imagine right now she's going to Germany!"

"Why?".They heard him scream.

2 weeks later ~

Graves hasn't talked to anyone since that night. He doesn't eat, he feels sick when he even thinks about food. He doesn't drink, not even firewhiskey. He hasn't showered unless you count Seraphine dumping a bucket of water on him showering. He barely leaves his office, can't seem to make himself move. He hasn't slept at all, can't make his mind shut off long enough. Graves knows he's broken, but he doesn't have the strength to care to fix it. His mind is set on blue eyes, messy white hair, and a black leather jacket. He can't stop thinking about how his hunter wouldn't do that to him, wouldn't leave him there. But then he thinks how Medea was not his, the woman didn't belong to him, she had never told him she loved him back.

For the first week, it had been heartbreaking, a period of grief and mourning, the second had been denial, and calling for her at every turn, only to be disappointed each time she didn't come running with a cheeky retort.

The second week was emptiness.

It felt like a light had been put out from MACUSA's fine structure, everyone feeling its absence deep inside their bones. Graves felt it most of all in his heart, like a big Medea-shaped hole was now gaping there, wanting desperately to be filled with someone who was no longer there.

He didn't let it hinder him in anyway, however. Quite the opposite, Percy had withdrawn mostly into himself, completing his duties with his entire attention placed on it, not daring to let his mind linger elsewhere.

The Auros had taken to training amongst themselves, when Grabes couldn't bother to go out there. With constant piles of work weighing down on his shoulders, Graves, for once, truly felt what it was like to be director. Knowing it would only get worse as time went on was little reassurance.

Newt couldn't look him in the eye for a week after the incident, and even now, Graves could see the shame written on his features every time he looked at him.

Graves was in council with Giselle when Percival's secretary came bursting through the doors.

Susan. Susan the most utterly correct secretary in the history of MACUSA's secretaries, tumbled in through the door and shoved herself between the two qomen who had brought their dispute before the director

Graves' eyes rose in complete astonishment as Susam tripped, squawked and, arms flailing, fell at man's feet.

"Susan? What in the name of the Merlin –"

"Sire, oh Sire, you have a visitor."

Susan turned over her shoulder and waved his hand, ushering someone forward. What Graves saw next made his heart stop.

Into the doorway stepped edea, rugged and ragged, but very much alive, standing there as if nothing had happened at all. She gave a wicked, smirk to him, and Graves was completely at a loss for words.

He rose from his seat, and simply stared. Two weeks ago, he'd been convinced he would never see her again. He had convinced himself he'd never see those brilliant blue eyes, that blinding smile, that scruffy mess of hair again, and now here she was, in the flesh-

"Everyone out," he ordered suddenly, words escaping his lips before he even thought about it. "Everyone out!"

He stormed past the others, and Susan bowed her head as well, giving one last beaming smile to Medea before closing the door behind her, leaving only the two of them in the room.

He walked towards her, each step he took ricocheting back at him in an echo. Graves felt overcome with a variety of emotions at once—anger, relief, joy, sorrow, anguish. It all bubbled just beneath the surface of his skin, and he curled his fingers into a fist. He raised his hand, wanting to strike her, wanting to scream at him, how dare you do that to me-

But instead he put his arms around her.

"You're here," he whispered.

Medea froze under his touch, as if that had been the last thing he was expecting. She didn't move. Graves pulled her closer against him, feeling the rapid heartbeat in Medea's chest. He let out a shaky sigh, squeezing Medea's hair tighter in his fingers.

He breathed in deeply, pushing his face into Medea's neck, feeling the pulse beat in a wild match to his own, and Medea's scent was all around him. Graves wrapped his arms around Medea and held on for all he was worth, startling a short laugh from Medea before the hold was reciprocated.

"I'm here, Percival, and if you want me to stay then I'll stay with you."

It was some time before Graves could speak. "Don't ever leave me again."

And even more time passed before he said, "I'm sorry."

"I know. I'm sorry, too."

Graves leaned back and studied Medea, meeting his eyes for the first time. Mesea grinned at him.

"You always knew when I was close by."

He said it as if it was something that had been on his mind for some time and Graves returned the smile, leaning in and inhaling Medea's scent again; a spark in the air, like a storm coming, like rain on the wind. Medea's magic. Medea.

"Welcome home," he said.

"We need to talk", Medea said, taking a seat on the desk and the sweet and lovely Medea Ace has been replaced by harsh, cruel and wicked Medea Ace.

Graves shuffled nervously.

"I heard that you had been attacked three days ago"

FLASHBACK

Graves wants answers. More than that, he needs answers. More than that, he wants and needs a certain white-haired hunter who is still missing.

Now he sits alone in his room, staring at the bed which is too large for one person. With Medea it always seemed small and perfect, somehow; warm and inviting. Now the covers are cold, the bed is empty, and there's this feeling that this won't ever go away, that this won't ever change.

He needs it to go away. He needs it to change.

To return to how it was a few days ago.

Medea's words from their fights keep running through his mind.

"I'd like to see things from your perspective, but I cannot get my head that far up my ass, Graves"

"You only annoy me when you're breathing, really Ace"

"The village called. They'd like their idiots back. You better get going Percy."

''If you say one mpre word, I swear I'm gonna use a spell on you to shit the fuck up, woman''

He scrubs a hand over his face once more, really hating this new habit of his. He's tired – his body is exhausted from all the stress of the day, but he knows sleep will not come easily.

Sleeping without Medea has become increasingly more difficult; he's grown far too used to having a warm body to curl into when he gets a little cold, having something to tug toward him in the middle of the night when he's half awake, listening to Medea murmur something in her sleep at being moved, hearing the soft little snores…

He's frustrated.

Very, very frustrated, and confused, and hurt.

It's been a long time since he's felt hurt, and not with physical pain. Physical pain he can manage just fine, but emotional pain… it's the kicker. It's the deal breaker.

A weakness.

And he's hurt, because Graves said she loves Medea and then immediately said goodbye.

And Graves wants to yell at her. Wants to punch her in the face as much as he wants to push her against the wall and kiss her senseless, so he never tries anything like that ever again. He'll do both – hell, he'll strap him to the bed if he has to, he'll do whatever, just as long as that stupid woman comes back.

He could hear something—a far off ringing noise that was drawing him out of his sat up quickly and snatched at the bedside table, grabbing his wand out of instinct. It was there, but he quickly realised something.

He was not alone in the room.

There is one pair of ice blue eyes that land upon him. He turned around facing a wan dressed in black. He radiates power and danger. As their eyes meet for the briefest moment, Graves see anger and malice in them and he just know it's directed at him.

''I am not here to fight''

Graves just looked at him carefully for a few seconds then just shook his head.

''You dont know who am I?''he asked curiously, ignoring Graves' frustration.

''Who the fuck are you and what you want in my house?''Graves yelled in frustration.

''My name is Leonard Nimoy''The man said firmly.

Nimoy walked towards him with a sharp glare.

"I read a lot about you, Percival Graves" Nimoy growled at him. "The man who got the hunter Medea Ace to fall for him. I should thank you! You made her weak enough for me to rip her heart out easily enough." Then he gripped Graves' throat and got closer to his face. "I know for a fact that Medea isn't here , which means she is still ram away , waiting for me to look after her . I promise you, when I find her, I will tell him that I murdered you with my own hands and when I see the defeated, broken look in her eyes, I will rip her heart out myself and see the light leave her eyes."

A cold shiver ran through Graves' body and his heart was beating too fast but he hide it all behind a snarl.

"You are a fucking bastard." Graves spit on his face, which made Nimoy growl in anger and punch him hard in the stomach.''You will stay away from her''

END FLASHBACK

The thoughs of the man run during that night. He report the attack to Miss President but say nothing about his chat with the other man, Graves was worried about the relationship between him and Medea and the fact that this asshole dares to threated to kill her.

Graves was staring at the woman while she was trying to hide behind a chair. Medea hiding from him made him feel like someone might as well have shot a bullet to his chest. Because that meant that Medea was scared of him. And that hurt Graves more than he cared to admit. Because when he first started liking Medea, he was always scared that one day, Medea would come to realize what kind of a person Graves actually was, someone he should fear, someone any normal person should want to hide from. Someday, Medea would realize that, and never speak to him again, and hate him. The fact that one of his worst fears just happened, didn't do too much positivity to his mental health. But it's fine right?

"Good job, Garves"The woman says sarcastically."I let you alone for two weeks and someone tried to kill you"

Grabes nodded in agreement looking at her. She had dark circles under her eyes and her gaze was a little anxious like she hadn't gotten sleep for a week.

"Medea, how long has it been since you slept?"

"I don't remember," Sbe mumbled

"Probably a couple days," He said.

"Maybe. It's not affecting my work."

"It's affecting your attitude."

"Well it's not like I have much to be particularly joyful about."

"Whre have you been, Medea?" asked Graves roughly.

Medea sighed and ran a hand over her jaw. "A good friend of mine had let me stayed with him"

Graves shoved his jealousy down as deep as he could. "Who?" he asked.

"I love Medea," Albus sighs contentedly as he sits back after having his third plate of pancakes.

Gellert snorts as he finishes up his own food.

"Aw, I like you too, Albus," Medea says as she enters the kitchen from where she'd been in the living room, tossing the professor a wink as she walks past him. "But I don't think would approve of us together."

"Tragic," Albus replies with a twist of his lips, an easy smile. "Gellert, can you make pancakes?"

"Not my forte," Gellert admits. "I'm more of a grill person."

"Make me some steak, and I might love you again instead of your sister," Albus says with a smirk, and Gellert snorts again, shaking his head as he gets to his feet, picking up the empty, syrupy plates.

He walks over to the sink and deposits them in it as Medea throws him a nasty look.

"I cooked, you clean," she tells him, and he scowls at her because he has much better plans for today, plans which include a certain, professor, but she holds his gaze and he finally sighs, relenting.

He starts to fill the sink with dishwater and soap as Albus laughs from behind him.

"And you keep him in line," Albus says. "Is there nothing you can't do?"

"I'm pretty amazing," Medea agrees easily, stealing Gellert's seat at the table. That little klepto. "If Gellert's steaks don't pan out, you and I can always run away together and never stop eating pancakes."

"Never stop eating pancakes," Albus echoes with another laugh. He has a nice laugh. "I like that. Yeah, let's do that."

"Hey," Gellert complains, simply because he feels like it's something he should do. "No stealing my husband, sis."

"But I'm so good at it," Medea complains back.

"Now, now, you're both pretty," Albus says.

Medea giggles and Gellert smiles as he starts doing dishes.

"Ace? You are still with me?"

Medea blinks the memory away, pressure behind her eyes, her head throbbing, and she nods. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

"You were with you?"his voice broke.

"Albus Dumbledore"

They stayed out for another twenty minutes before deciding to call if a night. Instead of apparating home, they opted to walking seeing as Medea never got out much. She had yet to witness the beauty of New York City in the night time. Graves made sure she was home safe, left her with a goodnight kiss on her cheek, then apparated to his own place.

It was half past two when she stepped inside her apartment. She decided to make a pot of tea to relax her nerves and prepare for bed. The mug slipped from her grasp, crashing to the floor, as her eyes landed on the dining room table. Placed on it's bare wood was a gold band.

The same band she had left behind in Romania on the dining room table in what was once the home they shared. The same band that had spent many years resting upon her delicate finger.

Her old life in Romania was catching up to her.