WRITTEN FOR THE HOUSES COMPETITION, YEAR 7, ROUND 6

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Drabble

Prompt: [Location] MACUSA Headquarters, Woolworth Building, NY

Word Count: 990(google docs)

(Canon divergence between FBawtft 1 and 2)

Thanks to wish, CK, and Miakoda for the beta!

Sunlight shone off the white turrets of the Woolworth Building, and Newt paused to take in the view. It was interesting that the British Ministry of Magic had chosen to burrow underground, while MACUSA had settled into a building tall enough to give a non-Quidditch player vertigo. But Newt hadn't returned to MACUSA's headquarters to contemplate its location, as a sharp cough from the doorman reminded him, so he hurriedly stepped through the side door with an awkward nod at the wizard.

Going from the busy streets of New York to the even busier halls of the Woolworth Building wasn't pleasant. MACUSA was still in a state since Grindelwald's capture and the return of the real Percival Graves, and uncomfortable as he was, Newt started contemplating turning right back and disappearing in some desert for a few months. There were rumours about a Basilisk in Namibia; maybe he should organise a Portkey…

But there was a reason he was still in New York. He was no Gryffindor, but his reason was important enough that he would traverse hostile territory if he had to — even if he hoped he wouldn't get to that point. The American Aurors weren't Newt's biggest fans after the mess with Grindelwald and the Obscurus, after all, but Newt braved the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and reached his destination unharassed.

He stopped in front of the dark oak door and rapped his knuckles against it twice, then he pushed it open without waiting for an answer.

As Newt had expected, Percival didn't look up from his paperwork, so he closed the door behind him and settled in to wait.

Newt darted his eyes around, but Percival's office hadn't changed since the man reclaimed it from the dark wizard who had taken over his life. It was still sterile. The books on the shelves could have been bought in bulk as "generic tomes to display at the workplace", and Newt couldn't find a single personal item other than the travelling cloak tidily hanging from its hook.

It was as Newt was rocking back on his heels that Percival, important-looking documents still in hand, raised his head and fixed his dark eyes on him.

"Newton. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Yes. I'm… leaving. Er, following Madam Pickery's directive and getting out of New York, even if a few months late." Newt didn't regret the delay, and even the President had come around after Newt's case had been instrumental in finding Percival. Newt had stayed through Percival's recovery, and they had gotten to know each other so well that Newt recognised the tightness on Percival's face as displeasure. But he was confident in his choice and went on. "I wanted to ask you to come with me. I thought it may be good for you to... leave for a while. But it's your choice."

One of Percival's eyebrows twitched in surprise, but he put down the documents he had been studying and joined his hands over them with deliberate calmness.

"MACUSA is in shambles."

"You're not responsible for–" Newt stopped at the intense look Percival pinned him with.

"I'm the Director of Magical Security. It's literally in my job description."

"Percy, no one can fault you for your dedication, but after everything, I think you deserve a holiday. And maybe MACUSA deserves to be left without you for," Newt tried to calculate how long his next trip would likely be. He couldn't. "For a little while."

Percival raised an eyebrow, and a corner of his lips curled.

"Are you going to smuggle me in that case of yours if I don't accept?"

Newt ducked his head, an impish grin peeking through his fringe.

"If that's what's needed."

Percival shook his head at Newt's gall, bringing his attention back to his reports.

It was preposterous. Percival knew he should plant himself right there at his desk and not even think about leaving the Woolworth Building until he reviewed everything that Grindelwald had touched. The thought of that dark wizard having free reign of his Department for months… It made his hackles rise. He had been held prisoner in his own home while Grindelwald ransacked his office and took over his life.

His head snapped up when he sensed movement. Newt had approached his desk and was looking at him with his kind hazel eyes, probably with the same expression he reserved for a mistreated beast he couldn't wait to slip into his suitcase. He laid a hand on Percival's desk, to the side of his paperwork. There were specks of dirt under his short nails. Mercy Lewis, Newt would track manure all through the building if it was up to him.

"Percy." Percival looked up. "Have you ever visited France?"

Of course he had. One didn't get to be Director of Magical Security without politicking, and, at his level, a great deal of that was international.

But he didn't scoff and dismiss Newt out of hand, because Percival was sure that the other man wouldn't follow the trodden path. Percival had visited France, but he hadn't seen France's underbelly – the hidden wildness, the endangered and dangerous creatures Newt would without a doubt pursue.

As Newt waited for an answer, the muffled sounds of the Aurors going on with their day could be heard in the office. It had been the background noise of Percival's adult life.

Was that pathetic, or proof of his dedication?

Percival broke eye contact with Newt's warm eyes, reorganised his papers in a few well-practised moves, and got up to collect his cloak.

"Steamboat?"

Newt grinned, and it was like the sun started shining in his dark office.

"Until Britain, then a Portkey."

"It better be legal."

Newt nodded vaguely, ducking his head to the left. Percival questioned how this man could have survived a world tour on his own, but followed him anyway.

They exited the Woolworth Building side by side.