The sight of the young lady running from Director Graves's office wasn't an unusual sight. The tears streaming down her face also wasn't an unusual sight… Director Graves made a lot of women cry.

"Miss Jones!" President Picquery called out, a tone of weariness in her voice, "Miss Jones, is everything okay?"

"No!" Miss Jones spun around and glared at the older woman, "I'm not okay! Good luck getting someone to marry him!"

As she stormed out of the department, the door slamming shut behind her, the President growled and spun around, heading straight for her friend's office.

"Really?" She announced as she strode into the room, scowling at the sight of Percival working hard and not even looking up at her entrance, "Another poor woman chased off because you won't even give her a chance. She was crying you know, what did you say to her?"

Percival still didn't look up, allowing another piece of paperwork to curl itself up into a scroll, before it got sent up. "She was overly sensitive… it wasn't my fault."

The President growled, throwing her hands up into the air in exasperation. "Am I the only one who remembers that nasty howler your Father sent? The one that said you needed to be married before your next birthday or you won't get your inheritance? Remember that?"

"I'm not bending to his will." Percival glanced up and glared at his friend, "When and if I get married, then it'll be because I love the person. Not because of some stupid rule."

"You still only have three weeks. That's not going to change."

There was a brief moment of silence, before Percival sighed and nodded in agreement. "True…" He then glanced out of the window, "… maybe I should be a little more proactive in my search."

The President wanted to ask Percival what he meant, until she heard a familiar, slightly whiny voice call out from the corridor.

"President Picquery? President Picquery?"

She turned around, closing Percival's door as she came face to face with the person calling for her.

"Abernathy… you may need to continue the search for a partner for Director Graves…" she sighed, "… preferably someone not quite as sensitive."

"I didn't believe Miss Jones was that sensitive?"

"Well you were wrong…" She stormed back to her own office, "… Director Graves needs to be married, and he is being very stubborn about the whole ordeal. If word gets out that he's no longer officially on the list for the Graves Inheritance, then- "

"- I will be able to help Ma'am…" Abernathy smirked, "… but I may need the mystic blue diamond. The one on your ring."

Seraphina glanced down at her ring, before lifting her head to frown at Abernathy… only to see his wand pointing at her.

"Imperio!"

….

"Goldstein, I'm going out. Tell the President, if she comes looking for me, that I'm in a very important meeting."

Auror Tina Goldstein was silent for a few moments, mouth gaping open slightly before she managed to compose herself and push herself to her feet. "B-But Sir! Where are you going?"

"No need for you to worry about that Goldstein! Just know that I'll be back later."

Before Goldstein could say anything else, the Director was gone.

….

"FIND HIM!"

Newt huddled down in the alleyway as the traffickers raced past, sighing in relief when they disappeared around the corner.

"Little pest…" he muttered fondly to the Niffler, who was shoving galleons into his pouch, "… I know they were traffickers, but stop taking what's not yours!"

The Niffler didn't look fussed.

Newt groaned, leaning his head back against the wall, before allowing the Niffler to hide in his pocket as he pushed himself to his feet and headed out. However, before he could plan his next course of action, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

Woah.

Newt found himself entranced by the sight of an older man moving effortlessly through the streets, his body oozing confidence and a stern look on his face.

The man was pure Alpha.

Feeling a wriggling in his pocket, Newt turned his attention away from the man and quickly grabbed the Niffler before it could make a run for it.

"No, no, no!" He hissed, "I don't care how nice his pocket-watch it, it's not- "

The Niffler was gone before he could finish his sentence.

"Bloody hell."

Quickly, Newt followed the Niffler as it immediately darted towards the man, pilfering paws already reaching out the expensive looking watch. Just as he reached out for it, the man seemed to notice the unfamiliar presence attempting to creep into a pocket, hand also darting out to grab the creature… only for their fingers to brush against one another.

Almost immediately, whilst Newt had a hold of the Niffler, the man had a hold of his wrist.

"What are you- "

"- I'm sorry!" Newt winced, "He's got a mind of his own! I was just trying to stop him from- "

"- do you have a permit for that?"

When Newt remained silent, the man growled and pulled him into a nearby alleyway, until they were out of sight.

"Do you have a permit for that Niffler?!"

Newt just gulped…. He'd made a bad decision.

….

"The book says a natural storm would be much more effective…" Rosier sighed, "… and you know how tricky this spell can be inside."

"I am willing to take the risk my dear." Grindelward hummed, placing the mystic blue diamond in the centre of a stand.

"If you insist." She waved her wand as dark clouds swirled up above.

Grindelward moved to one side as lightning shot through the blue diamond and into the sand he'd collected below. "Dark sands of time…" he hissed, "… reveal to me, the one who can enter the cave."

The sand swirled around, eventually forming a picture of a skinny, red-headed man wearing a long blue coat, one hand in the grip of a familiar face, as the other hand clung onto a tattered suitcase.

"There he is… my diamond in the rough."

"Really?" Rosier raised an eyebrow in disbelief, "That's who we've been waiting for?"

"Yes… in the grasp of my favourite Director."

…

"I have all the permits!" Newt protested, as the man continued to drag him away from the prying eyes of nearby muggles, "Honestly, they're all in my case… somewhere!"

"Permits? You have multiple creatures on your person?"

Glancing around, carefully avoiding all eye-contact, Newt winced, "A-A few."

"How many is a few?"

Silently willing Picket to remain in his pocket, Newt shrugged, "I-I haven't counted."

Lie. It was 63.

Newt never had a very good poker face though, as the man groaned and shook his head. "How many? Over 10? 20? 30?"

"…. Sixty-three."

Silence.

"W-would you like to meet them?"

The man stared at him for a few moments, before sighing wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose, before nodding. "Fine. Take me there."

Quickly, Newt apparated to the hotel room that he'd rented out, placing his suitcase on the floor.

"So…" the man glanced around and frowned, "… where are they?"

Newt didn't answer, opening up the case and climbing inside, hand reaching out and beckoning the man to follow, which he did. The man was silent as he stepped into the small shed area that Newt used for his work, up until the point where Newt opened the door to reveal the rest of the case.

"This… you've rescued all of these creatures?" the man stammered, eyes widening when he saw Frank, "Every single one of them?"

Nodding shakily, Newt gestured at the desk, where a stained folder sat. "I-I have all the permits in them. My brother, The, insisted that I have them all organised in case I get into any trouble."

The man slowly made his way over, opening up the folder and flicking through the paperwork. Whatever he saw must have placated him, as his entire body language changed, placing the folder back down.

He then turned his attention back to the creatures that were now starting to crowd around Newt, all desperate for his attention. "This is… amazing." He whispered, "You did this all yourself?"

Newt nodded eagerly, feeling a little calmer now that the threat of being arrested appeared to have disappeared. "I needed somewhere to keep them safe, until I can reintroduce them back into their natural habitats. After I'm sure that the threat of them being killed is gone, of course. But, according to governments, creatures aren't important."

The other man winced slightly, "Well… we have just come out of a war, and with Grindelward on the loose- "

"- Ministries have a Creatures Department, I know they do! They could work on protecting creatures like these, instead of extermination!"

"…. You're right."

Glancing at the man (who was looking very earnest) in shock, Newt nervously cleared his throat, knowing that he was probably blushing right now. "So… you're an Auror, right?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"My brother's one, I-I know the signs."

They'd moved a lot closer together now, less than two inches apart.

Before the man could say anything else, there was a frantic squeaking, as a green, stick-like creature emerged from Newt's pocket, shaking its tiny fist at the other man.

"Picket!" Newt gently scolded, "Ssh!"

"… What did he say?" The man asked, a smirk on his face, "Nothing flattering I expect."

Newt definitely knew that he was flushing now, wincing as he gently pushed Picket back into his pocket, trying not to look the man in the eye. When he next glanced up, their faces were even closer together.

The other man leaned in closer.

However, seconds before their lips could touch, there was a knocking on the top of the suitcase.

"Open up!" cried out a stern, authoritative voice.

Newt flinched violently at the knocking, turning to the other man. "Do you trust me?"

"What?"

Holding out his hand, Newt repeated the question, adding that it was likely that the possible intruders were the traffickers he'd been outwitting ever since he'd arrived in America.

Slowly, the other man nodded, wand already out as they made their way back up the steps, the lid of the suitcase suddenly slammed open and Newt was dragged out, summoned ropes wrapping around his body.

"Mr Scamander, you are under arrest for creature trafficking, theft and violation of wand laws. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right- "

"Stop!"

The aurors all stopped in shock as the man who Newt had shown around his case, strode up to them, fury written all over his face.

"Director Graves!"