With the help of a pipette, Percival fed the inkypuff, conscientiously, following Scamander's instructions to the letter. Fifteen ink droplets in the morning, Scamander had said, thirty at noon, and then again fifteen in the evening. Otherwise she'll be hungry.

Rodilus, naturally, found it hilarious his boss was pipette-feeding a temperamental ink bottle in the middle of a meeting, but that couldn't be helped because it was noon - which meant feeding time - and the inkypuff was now Percival's responsibility and he was damned if he would starve anyone or anything in his care - he even watered the orchic on Junior Auror Wessington's desk because the kid was too much of an ass to understand orchids needed enriched rainwater with the exact right temperature every five to seven days, not tap water - or Lewis forbid, coffee - whenever someone happened to remember.

"Stop with your cackling already," grumbled Kilonski, slapping Rodilus in the back of his head with the hand that wasn't holding a smoking cigarette, and Percival was actually thankful to him - up until he went on with, "Show some support instead: it can't be easy for the bossman to be a homemaker and a dad to an ink bottle while his pretty little spouse is running around the continent after dragons and whatnot."

"This meeting is over," declared Percival, but he had to say it three times before it actually could be heard from Rodilus' renewed howl of a laughter. "Dismissed!"

When the two aurors finally rose to leave, Percival aimed a sharp kick at Kilonski's behind, but the man was quick to take his python form - with the ever-present cigarette still dangling safely in the corner of his mouth - and to slither away, hissing in a manner that sounded suspiciously like laughter - which only sent Rodilus off again.

Focused on feeding the twentieth ink drop to Cecilia, as Scamander had named the inkypuff, Percival resisted the urge to rub his temples, while Rodilus fumbled his way to the door, laughing so hard he could barely stand.

Children. He worked with children.

He made a mental point to have all his Senior Aurors to participate in a few mandatory lectures on proper protocol and professionalism. A reminder of appropriate guidance was clearly needed - not only for his aurors, but for him too.

The Elms trees around them were on fire. They blazed, spitting out bursts of sparks with sharp sudden cracking noises. The smoke, silvery in the light of the crescent Moon, rose to the starry sky and its smell, thick but almost sweet, was strong in the air, the smell of earthy ash and scorched wood.

Never once taking his eyes off the dragon standing on an outcrop with its blue wings spread out, Percival called out to his Aurors, ordering them to contain the fire. He stood there in front of the dragon in a fighting stance, some ten yards from it with his wand at the ready, studying the beast, calculating. The dragon roared at him – and the next instant Percival had a cloud of fire breathed right at him.

He managed a defensive charm just in time, putting up a shield but a second before the heat hit him. For several longs moments he was in the center of it all, surrounded by roaring flames and poisonous gasses, braced against the fiery wind strong like a storm.

"Fucking mongrel of a lob worm," he cursed to himself. While the heat didn't burn him due to the defensive shield around him, the smell of burnt sulfur was still strong enough to make his eyes water, and the the power behind the stormy fire had him swaying backwards. He gritted his teeth and stood his ground, eyes watering until he had tears running down his cheeks. "Lewis, what a cunt of a slug."

When finally no more fiery wind was forthcoming, the green grass around him had turned into grey ash and the marble fountain behind him was black and charred, all its water evaporated, the iron pigeon statues melted into formless blobs. Skin flushed, eyes smarting, Percival was panting due to the effort it had taken to keep the shield up against such a powerful attack.

"Graves!" Rodilus, the leader of Air Aurors, called out to him from where he was circling above the area on his broom. "Still okay? Need us to pick you up?"

"No, I'm fine. Carry on."

Percival waved a hand, letting his Aurors know he was alive and well.

A couple of teenage witches, having sneaked out to Central Park after their curfew, had been the ones to encounter the dragon first and they had informed the department of it half an hour ago. The dragon was now standing on its hind legs, eyes black like coal, clearly looking for its next target, the next human to scorch. There were many to choose from, both on the ground and in the air on their brooms. It was, after all, a major operation, code Red 15-a, and Percival – as the leader of the operation and the head of the department – had wasted no resources in getting the fire-breathing beast surrounded.

The risk the dragon posed for the safety of the people of New York as well as for the magical community becoming exposed to No-Maj people was considerable and the situation was not to be underestimated. Percival wanted the dragon gone, relocated or dead, he cared little which, although he was positive killing it would be easier – which was why he was now assessing the beast up close, searching for weak spots to hit, the only one powerful enough to dare to get close enough. The dragon had blue scales all over it and they gleamed silvery-blue in the moon light. It was the size of a house, its sharp claws as big as Percival's waist.

There were no weak spots.

"Eyes!" Percival called out after the third time the dragon had tried to roast him. "Aim for the eyes!"

There were no weak spots, but eyes were likely the weakest there were. Even then, killing the beast wouldn't be easy.

"All field curses allowed," he gave the rare permission. "On my mark!"

Up in the air, Rodilus had his two teams of air aurors circling the dragon closer, while Bartolomeus, Ipston and Kilonski all commanded their Junior Aurors on the ground, gesturing for them to move to their positions, repeating Percival's orders until everyone was fully aware of what would happen next.

Percival raised his wand, ready to order the joined attack – just as there was a sudden cracking sound right near his ear signaling someone apparating by his side. Exasperated, believing it to be one of the Junior Aurors having misunderstood the Senior Aurors' orders, he glanced at his side, a sharp command ready on his lips – only for him to see Newton Scamander standing next to him.

With his untucked shirt, the black smudge on his cheek, and suspenders attached to brown tweed trousers, Scamander looked like he had apparated there quite unprepared – he wasn't even wearing a tie or his coat, for Lewis' sake! Unlike the grim, prepared looks all around them on the faces of Percival's aurors, Scamander's expression was... it was one of pure awe and outright admiration. He studied the dragon with his round eyes shining, grinning from ear to ear like the beasts' presence was the happiest thing to have happened to him since his arrival to New York.

It made Graves inexplicably exasperated.

Besides, the last thing he needed on an ongoing operation involving a dragon was a wide-eyed civilian.

"Scamander!" He focused his gaze back on the dragon before them, causing the man next to him to give a start like he had just been shaken out of a day dream. "What the fuck are you here for?"

"I'm here to help the dragon," was the softly-spoken answer. "You're scaring her."

They were scaring it?

Scamander was out of his mind.

"Get away from my scene," Percival ordered in a brusque manner. "Apparate behind my aurors, if you want to observe the beast, but do not get in our way. I will not have the time to spare for your protection."

Scamander made no move to obey and Percival shot him a glare, only to be met with a jaw stiff with determination and eyes simultaneously gentle and angry.

"I will not let your ignorance kill a treasure like her," was said, calmly. "And I ask you to not make the situation any worse. With all due respect, Mr. Graves, I need to get closer to gain her trust."

Based on the tone of his voice, it sounded like Scamander thought Percival was the mad one out of the two of them.

Percival hardened his glare, glanced briefly at the dragon, turned back to Scamander the order to "back the fuck away" ready on his lips – only to see Scamander was no longer standing by his side. Initially satisfied, he believed the man had done the wise thing and had apparated behind the aurors as he had been told to do, but as soon as his gaze returned to the dragon, it became apparent how clearly he had been mistaken: there, right between the giant claws, there stood Scamander, petting the blue scales like the dragon was nothing but a bunny.

Spitting out a curse, he could feel his knees going a little weak. Had he not lost enough people already? He didn't want to witness Scamander's death.

"There, there, little one, feels good to be tickled, doesn't it?" he heard Scamander saying to the dragon.

The beast tilted its head slowly to look down at Scamander with its black eyes, smoke coming out of its nostrils.

Cursing, his eart suddenly pounding against his ribcase, Percival threw off his coat to make himself lighter, to make himself faster - "Team Beta, cover me!" - and wasted no time to apparate by Scamander's side – his shoulder brushed briefly against the dragon's smooth scales as he came to stand between Scamander and the beast – and grasped Scamander by the front of his white shirt before apparating him well behind the line of aurors where the crisp night air was a cold contrast to the suffocating heat nearer the sulfur-smelling dragon.

Scamander blinked, finding himself suddenly in the darkness. He looked at Percival with an exasperated, confused frown from behind his mess of curly hair like he couldn't quite fathom why Graves had bodily removed him from the dragon's side.

"For Lewis' sake, Scamander," Percival resisted the urge to shake Scamander. "Stay here. Do not interfere with my operation again."

"But you don't even know what you're doing," said Scamander, matter-of-factly – he clearly had no common sense in his head whatsoever, but Percival did not have the time to point that out. He had a dragon to deal with.

"Here," he therefore repeated, angrily, giving Scamander as dark a glare as he could and a bit of a push to emphasize his words, pointing at the ground beneath them with his wand, "stay here, away from the dragon. I don't need you getting in the way. I need to focus on the operation, not on a clueless civilian running about playing a dragon tamer."

"Excuse me, but-" Scamander began, but Percival did have an operation to lead, a dragon to slay, and he apparated back to his place in the front line, thus missing the rest of whatever it was that Scamander might have wanted to say to him.

The teams had kept the dragon busy in Percival's absence, shooting hexes at it, but it was clearly growing more angry. Facing the beast once more, Percival was again about to give his aurors the sign to start their attack, but before he had managed more than to tighten his hold on his wand, Scamander appeared between the dragon's claws once again, lips a tight line, his whole demeanor one of stubborn determination.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Scamander!" Percival yelled at his face, having once more removed him from the danger, apparating them both behind the auror line. "Are you out of your fucking mind! This is your last warning. Do as you're told and stay here."

Now it was Scamander who grasped him by the wrist, firmly, preventing him from disapparating.

"Mr. Graves," was said with uncharacteristic sharpness, "that dragon is a Boston Blue Wings. They are gentle, playful, and extremely endangered."

"As are my aurors, if I don't go back to slay it."

Scamander blanched.

"But-" he sounded a little desperate, his hold on Percival's wrist tightening as if by instinct, "but you wouldn't- why- there is no need to-"

As Percival tried to pull his arm free - he did not have the time for this - Scamander swallowed hard, seeming to compose himself.

"I have dealt with dragons before." He met Percival's gaze - the dragon's fire in the distance was reflected in his eyes, it almost looked like he was burning from the inside - before lowering it down onto Percival's jaw. "Boston Blue Wings, they are an excitable species, they are wise and they understand kind touch – physical touch is a vital part to their communication, that is how they talk to each other. Please, Mr. Graves, I am an experienced magizoologist, I do know what I'm doing. Just as you know how to lead an auror operation, I know how to interact with creatures. Let me- let me try? Maybe I can coax her to fly elsewhere. There is no need to use violence when she's just trying to defend herself. She's likely just a little bit lost, young as she is."

Hearing the roar of the cornered beast from where his aurors were trying to keep it in place until he came back, Percival studied the man before him critically. This was the same wizard who had fought Grindelwald, not at all unsuccessfully, the wizard who had dared to face an Obscurus on his own.

The wizard who had been observant enough to be the one to realize Grindelwald was not Percival, despite of appearances.

As reluctant as Percival was to put a civilian knowingly in harm's way, Scamander had earned the benefit of the doubt, and not only that, but he was also a respected magizoologist, a MACUSA consult, a particularly knowledgeable wizard when it came to creatures and beasts, including dragons, as had become clear in the course of the two weeks Scamander had so far been educating Percival on creatures.

If it was possible to not risk the safety of his aurors, surely Percival would need to give it a chance rather than to have his people needlessly antagonize a fire-breathing beast the size of a house?

"Very well," he found himself saying and Scamander's face immediately brightened like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I will let you try to tame the beast. But if you fail, I will kill it – and if you then interfere, I will personally arrest you for obstruction of an operation. Is that understood?"

Scamander nodded his head, frantically, meeting Percival's eyes for a flash of a second before his gaze once again landed on a spot on Percival's chest as if he was simply too shy to hold the eye contact for longer – Percival had an operation to run and a dragon to deal with and it certainly was neither the place nor the time to find anything endearing.

They apparated back, Scamander to his spot between the claws, Percival nearby, tense, ready to move in the second he would be needed. He motioned for his aurors to stand by, to not attack, receiving a few raised eyebrows but no objections.

"Now, there," Scamander began to speak to the dragon, moving his hands up and down on its scales, "there is absolutely nothing here for you to worry about, my beautiful darling. Do you feel my touch? Isn't this just the nicest of feelings, someone petting and tickling you?"

The dragon lifted a claw, Percival tightened his hold on his wand, ready to strike – but the dragon didn't swipe at Scamander. If anything, it looked like it was trying to give him better access to its chest. Scamander continued whatever it was that he was doing, the dragon stood there above them – and gradually it closed its eyes and began to purr, of all things.

It went on like that for closer to an hour, Scamander petting the dragon and talking to it soothingly, while Percival and his aurors looked on, ready to interfere if necessary.

"Now, beautiful," Percival heard the softly uttered words, "how about you let me help you? Let me climb up onto your back and I will show you the way home. How about that, hmm?"

The dragon let out a sound like a sigh. Slowly, it folded its wings and lowered its neck, low enough for Scamander to climb up. Scamander didn't, however, but continued petting its neck, looking at Percival over his shoulder.

"I believe she is now ready for me to fly her."

"Well, I'll be damned," Kilonski muttered somewhere behind Percival and Percival could only second the sentiment.

Scamander flew the dragon to Boston. Percival, Rodilus and the two teams of air aurors followed them the entire way there, making sure the dragon was veiled from any No-Maj eyes, ensuring it wouldn't harm anyone or anything in case Scamander would lose control over it.

Percival, for his part, couldn't look away from Scamander who seemed more at home on a dragon than anywhere he had seen him before. It was difficult to not be impressed. Scamander was hugging the beast's long neck, occasionally petting it, and his freckled skin, his golden hair had a silvery shade to them in the moon light. His curls seemed to dance in the wind.

They landed on a shore, the roar of the Atlantic Ocean as overpowering as the salty smell of the waves. Scamander bid the dragon a farewell and it flew away, high above the ocean, and Percival could finally relax his muscles, although he didn't put his wand away until the dragon had completely disappeared in the horizon.

"Such an amazing being," Scamander sounded wistful. "Beautiful and unique."

Percival could only agree, although he was neither looking at nor thinking of the dragon.

Unique, indeed. Amazing.

Beautiful.

"Well, how about that for a day's work!" said Rodilus, cheerfully, giving Scamander's back a jovial pat before squinting at the horizon suspiciously. "You sure it won't come back to bother us again?"

"I should well think not" Scamander said with a thoughtful frown. "Why would she want to get lost again?"