Hey everyone! So It looks like Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them has taken over my life now (not that I'm complaining). And because (being totally honest) the Niffler is my favorite character, followed closely by Pickett, then Newt, then Graves, I want Niffler cuteness. And while I know that there never was a "Real Percival Graves" because apparently Grindie is a freaking BAMF at transfiguration (thank for that J.K.), I like the idea of a "Real Percival Graves" almost as much as I love the Niffler. These two things together give me this: Graves (the real one) and the Niffler are total Bros (just as long as the pilfering pest keeps his paws off The Pocket Watch Graves' dad gave him as a graduation gift). Add in the fact that Newt and Tina, while adorable, had zero chemistry in the film (which ok, they have four more to fix that problem, but I don't think they can) and voila! The Niffler gets to play mackmaker! Please, don't judge me for writing on four hours of sleep; I am at my most creative this way.

Disclaimer time! If you recognize it, I probably don't own it (unless it is an OC from one of my other fics, in which case I do own it). I am making ZERO money. Also! I have a pole up on my profile for names for the Niffler, because I don't know what to call it. So if you could help a brother out, that would be grand. And, if someone could do a check for me through the story, that would be great. For some reason my keyboard is having a hard time with the letter "a", and I have noticed that sometimes I am missing the letter in a word. I think I got all of them in this one, but you never know.

As always, Read, Review, and most importantly ENJOY!

Marla Strangefellow out, peace.

-LineBreak-

This time, it was war.

It had started innocently enough; missing paperclips here, a missing handful of change there. Yah know: little stuff. Stuff that, while perhaps inconvenient not to have when buying the morning cup of caff, was not essential for life to go on. Hell, after the first time Graves caught the Niffler sneaking off with the directors pair set of cufflinks, it turned into something of a game: Niffler 21 ½, Graves 13, Scamander 25 (not that Graves was keeping score or anything).

But this? This was one too far.

"Miss Goldstein, do you have the time?"

"Uh, yes sir. Its 12:52." The recently reinstated Auror responded, confusion evident in her voice.

"Thank you, Miss Goldstein."

This time that dammed Niffler actually took something of value (not that the enchanted jade dragon had been cheap, but he had dropped it on the floor outside the door so it only counted for half a point).

The Pocket Watch. Capital T, P, and W. The Pocket Watch that Graves' father had given him when he had graduated from Ilvermorny. The one the Director used every-god-dammed-day for the last twenty years to get to work on time, to go to lunch, to time out black market sting operations down the dammed second.

This time, it's personal.

Newt stood inside his magical case with a look of abject horror on his face.

"You didn't," The Niffler whom Newt is addressing, has the gall to look smug as it rearranges the silver pocket watch to sit more visibly in its gilded nest.

"Oh Merlin, you did."

The Niffler gives a squeak of agreement as if to say "yep, point for me".

Newt hastily grabs the watch, much to the dismay of the Niffler and gives the small furry black beast a disappointed glare.

"You do realize, that when the Director finds out this is missing he will want to turn you into a purse."

The Niffler just pouts.

Newt grabs his blue coat and his wand as he sprints up the latter that leads out of the case. And runs right into Graves who is on his way down it.

The two land at the bottom of the latter in a rather painful heap. Newt is all elbows and, okay, ow that is a knee to the groin.

"Director Graves, I'm- I'm so sorry! I didn't see you coming down!" Newt stutters out.

"It's alright, Mr. Scamander. I should have knocked louder before entering." Percival say through a wince, as Newt shifts to get up and puts more weight on the knee that is pushing painfully on his groin.

"Let me help you up," Newt says, and offers the dark haired man a hand.

Gratefully, the head Auror takes it and is pulled to his feet with surprising strength. Graves overbalances slightly, and has to grab onto the lean shoulders of his red headed companion to keep from falling again.

"I was actually on my way up to find you, sir."

"Were you?" Graves asks, one eyebrow arched, and the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yes," Newt says, holding up the watch in the palm of a calloused hand, which is (thankfully) still ticking. "It would seem that this belongs to you."

"I had a sneaking suspicion that it was down here, and I was just on my way to retrieve it." Graves responds smoothly.

"Ah, I, uh, I thought you would be." Newt stammers out, blushing slightly.

The two just stare at each other for a while, the silence stretching into the realm of uncomfortable rather rapidly.

"Ah, here." Newt says, breaking the strained quiet, and pushes the watch into the older wizards hands.

"Yes, uh, thank you Mr. Scamander." Director Graves responds with a slight cough, the tips of his ears going the faintest shade of pink.

"I am sorry about him," Newt says as the Director begins to ascend the stairs back into the regular world.

"I don't know what has gotten into him. It seems like his treating it as a game of sorts."

"It's alright, Mr. Scamander." The Director says in a clear voice, ears turning a darker shade of pink. But mentally, Graves is adjusting the score board: Point Niffler.