Chapter Text
How to Seduce a British Magizoologist
A field Guide by Percival Graves
Preface
Percival Graves (the real one) enters his office in a foul mood. He’s just gotten back from another frustrating lunch (not) date with one Newt Scamander - author, magizoologist, and the most oblivious man Graves has ever met.
He pulls his scarf off and throws it toward the coat rack behind him. It misses by a long shot, but he fixes it with a simple wave of his wand. His coat is similarly ripped off and spelled to float over to join the scarf. He stalks to his desk and sits in his chair, elbows propped up on his wenge wood desk with fingers steepled together. He fumes silently as he stares unblinkingly, mind playing over the events of the meal.
The lunch itself had gone great. It was the third lunch Graves had managed to convince the magizoologist to attend and they were finally managing a steady amount of eye contact. Newt had even laughed at one of his funnier tales of working as the Director of Magical Security, specifically a story about an escaped group of cornish pixies making fools out of his best aurors.
It had been going so well that Graves had managed to get himself an invitation to see the inside of the infamous case. Feeling bold, Graves had invited him to dinner, and that’s when it went downhill.
“I already promised Queenie that I’d join them for dinner tonight. She went and got special ingredients for her family’s famous Jumping Bean salad.” Newt looked over at him regretfully while his left hand fidgets with his fork. He perks up a bit, meeting Percival’s gaze. “I could ask if they have enough for another, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
Graves had declined the offer, saying he didn’t want to intrude without notice. Newt nodded in understanding rather than insisting, for which Graves was grateful.
“What about dinner next week?” Percival nearly inhaled his spoon when Newt himself offered an alternative for their dinner. He cleared his throat to mask his shock, setting his spoon back into the bowl of soup in front of him.
“I would be free next Thursday night, around seven?” he offered, hoping he isn’t coming off as too eager.
“Wonderful! I’ll inform the girls, see if they are free that night.” Just like that, the tentative hope building up in Graves’ chest was doused with cold water.
And that is how Graves found himself the host of a small dinner party set for next week, since he couldn’t bother to correct Newt and disappoint him. The magizoologist had looked so excited about it and now Percival would be subject to a night of entertaining guests in his small apartment. He would have to get his place in order and figure out what he was going to make. He will have to see if he has enough place settings for four, as the life of an antisocial bachelor means one set is more than enough.
Is Newt not interested? It seems to Graves like the other wizard isn’t even aware of his intentions, though he has been nothing but direct. After the first date Graves knew subtlety would be lost on Newt. He just hadn’t thought that directness would fail as well.
It’s not as much of a shock though - the magizoologist was more in tune with his beasts than with humans and was often unaware of social cues and nuances. Graves would have an easier time communicating his intentions if he were one of Newt’s magical creatures.
Actually… that’s not a half bad idea. That might just work.
If he can’t get Newt’s attention the human way, maybe he would have more luck the beast way.