Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed the last story. I didn't think it would do so well because it was written all from an OC point of view – always a risk! So thank you for reaffirming to me that Trixie is a solid character

Here's another six thousand words of nothing!

Percival Graves was having an uneventful week.

It had been a long time since such peace had overcome MACUSA and the whole office was caught in a soft lull, enjoying the warming weather of late spring. He usually hated quiet weeks; he often felt restless and bored, impatiently seeking adventure and mystery.

Instead, this week had consisted of meetings and paperwork and, to his surprise, he hadn't minded much at all. He could have blamed his good mood on managing to get some sleep, on the spring air, on the slow pace of work. But he knew the real reason: being in the office meant he could speak to Trixie Barnes every day.

It was hard not to feel chipper when she smiled at him every morning, when he could smell her perfume in the elevator, when she sent a copy of The New York Ghost to his desk with a handwritten plea to help her with the daily rune riddle...

He had even caught himself whistling.

Now that really was too far.

Friday began much the same as the rest: an early morning iced coffee, a flick through the paper and a meeting. President Picquery was mercifully concise in her briefing and he was more than happy to let her demands wash over him. By mid-morning he was taking the elevator to the Major Investigations floor, staring at the rune riddle on page seven and wondering if Trixie had managed to work out the third clue.

He felt a little desperate, but he couldn't stop himself stopping by her desk on the way to his own.

But when he stepped out of the elevator and into the Criminal Research Department, he saw that her desk was empty. His shoulders slumped and he glanced around, just to check she wasn't talking to one of her colleague elsewhere. He was met with nothing but curious stares. Resigning himself to leaving before someone asked what he was doing, he slipped out of the room and trod the familiar path to his office, his good mood fading somewhat.

As he approached, he heard her laugh coming from inside. Without thinking why she was laughing, he opened the door quickly, trying not to show his pleasure on his face.

She had her back to him and she was giggling, a copy of the paper in her hands and her eyes fixed on a figure sat at his desk. She whipped around when she heard the door click closed behind him.

"Oh!" Was he imagining it or was there a hint of a blush on her cheeks? "Good morning, Mr Graves."

"Good morning." He greeted and his eyes narrowed at the figure at his desk.

Sensing tension, she quickly said, "Your brother was just telling me about the last time he was here."

His brother's head poked out from around Trixie, a wide grin on his face. "Surprise!"

He looked as flamboyant as usual clad in a white shirt with an excessive frill on the sleeve, ludicrously tight pinstripe trousers and a bright orange scarf. He liked to think of himself as stylish – a 'trendsetter', he had said. Percival thought the whole outfit was ridiculous but somehow, it worked for him. Esmund had always been the creative one, forever painting and writing when they were children. He disliked routine, hated the conventional and loved finding out exactly what made people tick. He was forever travelling the world and writing about his adventures – his desire for excitement was the only thing Percival could really relate to. He was always the sociable one, the one with stories to tell, the charming one.

But despite Percival's irritation that he had been able to make Trixie giggle and blush like a schoolgirl, he couldn't deny he was happy to see his brother. With an empty weekend approaching, his boisterous presence was always a welcome distraction. He snorted and shook his head, dropping his papers on his desk with a thump.

"What do you mean 'surprise'? As if anyone else would be stupid enough to sit at my desk uninvited."

Esmund chortled and stretched, placing his hands behind his head and reclining as much as Percival's straight-backed chair would allow. "Sorry for dropping in."

Percival crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "No, you're not."

Esmund grinned. "No, I'm not. Look, I just wanted to see my dear brother. It's been nearly two months, you know."

"I know."

Trixie was fidgeting on the spot and looking a little awkward. "I think I should leave you to it. You obviously have some catching up to do."

"Hey! Before you go…" Esmund cocked his head to the side, evidently showing off his best profile. "You can tell I'm the youngest, right?"

She glanced between the two of them and wrinkled her nose. "Well…yes." Esmund whooped in triumph before she quickly added, "But I think that might just be because you act the youngest."

Percival couldn't stop himself from chuckling quietly as Esmund gasped in mock horror. She shared a shyly pleased look with Percival before saying, "Seen as I've insulted both of you, I think I'll leave you to it." She stopped mid-turn, remembering the newspaper in her hand. "Oh, and this is for you." She dropped it on top of his work with another warm smile and he couldn't stop himself feeling slightly smug that it was only directed at him.

She made for the door, saying over her shoulder, "It was lovely to meet you…Mr Graves."

Esmund waved a hand, "Oh, just Esmund, please!"

The door closed but Percival found that he was still staring at it and smiling slightly. Perhaps he wasn't so alone in enjoying their time together – she had sought him out in his office after all. Still, it wouldn't do to project his own feelings onto her and ruin a perfectly good friendship –

A loud cough brought him back to earth.

His brother's dark eyes were fixed on him, a curious expression on his face. Percival cleared his throat and shook off his jacket, suddenly feeling a little warm. He hung it up on the coat stand and made a fuss of straightening his waistcoat and collar. His brother might be less conventional than Percival, but he was certainly no fool. He must have detected something different, something off –

"So, Perce! How have you been?" Esmund began, propping his feet casually on the desk. Relived he was apparently dropping his suspicions, Percival swatted his feet and said,

"Fine."

Esmund snorted, rolling eyes. "Oh, well that's that then. Nice talking with you, brother. I'll just go now, shall I? I'll tell Ma and Pa they needn't worry - "

"What else do you want to know?" Percival said, feeling guilty but still totally unwillingly to divulge his innermost troubles. "You know I'm not like you, Es – I don't go around telling everyone my business."

"Hey!"

"That wasn't - " He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His brother always did this – he could already feel a headache coming on. "That wasn't an insult. You're an open guy, fine. I'm not like that. So can you just…respect that? I'll tell you stuff when I want to, alright?"

Esmund seemed to consider this before sighing. "Alright, alright." There was a long pause before he asked,

"Who was that?"

His blood running cold, he faked ignorance. "Who was who?"

His brother just smirked, obviously sensing he was on the right track. "That woman that I was talking to."

Percival paused before waving his wand, sending files zooming to their proper place in his desk drawer. He was concentrating on keeping his expression neutral as he turned back to his brother. "Trixie Barnes. She's a colleague."

Esmund hummed. Between them on the desk lay the latest copy of The New York Ghost she had left. They both stared at it, then each other, before lunging towards it in tandem; magic forgotten in the burst of competitiveness. Percival huffed as Esmund came away victorious, unfolding the paper with unwarranted aplomb.

"Trixie Barnes." Esmund said, flicking through the pages of the paper with relish. Please don't have written anything, Percival silently begged. "Trixieeee Barrrrrrrnes. Trixxxxx – ah!"

Damn.

Esmund had found the rune riddle page, complete with curling handwriting in the margin. He read it aloud in an outrageously bad falsetto, "Third clue is totally impossible but I imagine you can crack it. I swear you write these because you always seem to know the answers..." He improvised a gratingly girlish giggle at the end.

His jaw clenching, Percival quickly snatched the newspaper from him and growled, "We're just friends."

Esmund held his hands up. "Hey! I never said otherwise! But the fact that you feel the need to tell me that - "

"Right, out!" He hauled his brother up by his frilly shirt sleeve and yanked him to the door. "I've got work to do!"

Sniggering, Esmund shook off his brother. "I'm going, I'm going!" He straightened his collar and jammed his foot in the door before Percival could slam it. "Dinner later? Oh, and I can stay yours for a few days, can't I?"

Percival glared but his anger was already abating. "Seen as you don't have any luggage, I'm presuming you've already left it at my apartment. So yes, I suppose you can."

"Brilliant!" Esmund plucked an apple from his jacket pocket and bit into it noisily. "Best brother!"

"Only brother."

"And the best!" He shouted over his shoulder to the aurors at their desks, "Hear me? Best brother around! And best boss too, I bet!"

Unable to stand it any longer, Percival kicked his brother's foot from the door and slammed it shut.

Josiah Square was bustling with witches and wizards, all eager to celebrate the end of the working week with copious amounts of food and drink. Esmund, apparently, was no different because he insisted they go to The Sphinx's Supper – the busiest and largest restaurant in the Square.

Esmund was in his element, practically skipping to their table and sliding gracefully into the booth, already peering around at their fellow diners. Percival was just trying to think about the quickest thing he could order so he could go home.

"Ah! So much choice!" Esmund sighed at the menu, pulled a pipe from his pocket and lit it with a wave of his wand. "I've missed this, you know? The bustle, the food…" He grinned across the table. "The difficult company."

The noise around them was growing and Percival could feel another headache sparking at his temples. But even so, he couldn't stop a small smile warming his face. "Yeah, it's not so bad."

"That's the spirit! Come on, let's talk properly. And you can wipe that panicked look off your face. I'm not trying to catch you out – I'm not Ma!"

Despite his flair for the dramatic, his brother was his closest confidante and Percival was always secretly glad when he was in the city – if a little exhausted. His visits always began like this: him dragging Percival out of his dark apartment and into the city. It was jarring for him at first and the combination of the noise and Esmund's questions made him a tad irritable. But after a delicious meal and a few drinks, he usually warmed up. Obviously wanting to get the ball rolling, Esmund was already trying to flag down a waiter to order some drinks.

"Excuse me, could we – ah!" The waiter's attention was taken by another table and Esmund's arm flopped uselessly to his side.

Percival checked his pocket for dragots before saying, "Firewhiskey?"

Esmund grinned. "Straight on the hard stuff? Fine with me."

"We'll be ages waiting, I'll go to the bar." He slid out of the booth and wandered to the dark mahogany bar, slipping between a tipsy-looking wizard on a bar stool and a bustling waitress who was hurriedly placing overflowing drinks onto a floating tray. The wizard behind the bar passed her the last glass and asked, "Who's next?"

He began, "Two Firewhis - "

Just as someone else said, "Can I have - "

The waitress stepped away with her tray, revealing Percival's competition.

"Miss Barnes?"

She beamed, looking as surprised as he felt. "Mr Graves! How unexpected!"

Feeling like he needed to justify his rare public appearance, he gestured to the small booth a few feet behind him. "My brother dragged me out."

She glanced around him and laughed, waving at Esmund who was waving back with an irritating excess of delight. Percival narrowed his eyes at his brother before turning back to Trixie who was looking even lovelier than usual in a beaded dress and a sparkling hair pin. And, he noticed a tad belatedly, a large badge that kept changing between images of flying balloons, of flickering candles, of fireworks that created real, tiny bangs –

"Is it your birthday?" He asked, feeling slow.

"Oh!" She glanced down at the badge like she had forgotten it was there. "Yes! Well, it's tomorrow actually."

"Oh." He stared at her blankly, her sudden appearance still knocking him off balance. He blinked. "Er – happy birthday."

"Thank you!" She smiled, looking relieved that he had finally sprung to life.

He reached into the dark corners of his mind to try and find the right small talk for birthdays. "What are - " But he was quickly interrupted.

"Look, does anyone want to actually order any drinks?" The wizard behind the bar was glaring at them with his arms crossed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Trixie squinted as though she was trying to remember. "Three pumpkin juices, a firewhiskey, a gillywater, a cherry syrup, two gigglewaters, two lobe-blasters and a redcurrant rum please." The waiter tried to memorise the order and waved his wand, glasses and bottles flying from the shelves. "I think I should have let you go first." Trixie said to Percival, looking slightly apologetic.

"Big party?"

"No, just a big family! My parents, three sisters, two brothers in law, two nieces and a nephew. And we all live together." He couldn't comprehend the chaos in her house at any given moment. She glanced over his shoulder again. "Is your brother your only family?"

"Only sibling." He found himself smiling. "And he's enough." She laughed again and he felt giddy. "My parents are back home in Boston. I don't see them as often as I should."

Her drinks started to load onto two trays. "Boston?" She seemed oddly pleased and he felt warm as their eyes met. "I seem to find out something new about you every time we talk."

The last drink clinked onto the tray and she blinked. Percival took a deep breath to steady himself.

She was just reaching inside her bag to pay when her stopped her. "I'll get these."

She stared at him. "Really? You don't have to - "

He almost squirmed in discomfort. "I know. But it's your birthday and it only seems fair." Just accept it, please.

"Oh." She was blushing a little, her hair falling into her face as she looked down to close her bag again. He grabbed the bar in case he did anything stupid. Their eyes met again. "Well, then. Thank you very much."

"It's fine. Just…consider it an apology for not remembering your birthday."

She shook her head, smiling. "I really wouldn't you expect you to know."

Then the double doors next to the bar burst open and an excited waitress appeared holding a huge, extravagantly decorated cake complete with tall, glittering candles and fluttering, edible butterflies.

"Where's the birthday witch?" The waitress called, beaming to the room.

Percival did his best to hide a smile behind his hand as Trixie groaned, muttering "I have a horrible feeling she means me." Just then, Percival spotted a small boy waving at Trixie and pointing excitedly at the cake. She sighed in defeat. "Yep, that's definitely for me." She turned back to him, touching him on the arm briefly. "I should go. Thank you for the drinks, it's really lovely of you."

"Have a good evening. And birthday."

She shot him a smile over her shoulder. "I'll try." He watched as she slid between the tables and scooped up her nephew, the two trays of drinks and the waitress with the cake following her around the corner to the Barnes family table.

"Drinks, sir?" The bartender was once again staring impatiently.

"Ah, yeah. Two glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey. And put those drinks on a tab, will you? Name's Graves."

The bartender nodded, slid over two glasses and a full bottle of Firewhiskey. Percival seized them immediately and retreated to the safety of the table.

As he sunk into his seat, Esmund regarded him with a smirk. "You look a bit shaken, Perce."

He downed his first Firewhiskey in one and growled, "I'm fine."

"Sure." Esmund sat forward, studying his face with intrigue. "So, are you going to admit you're keen on her now or do I have to wait for you to sink a few more whiskeys?"

He sighed, pouring another glass for him and one for his brother. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. "Fine. I like her."

Esmund practically punched the air. "Yes! See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now we can talk about it." He took a sip of his drink and leaned forward like they were conspirators. "Tell me everything."

Percival drank again. Where to start? So much had happened in his head and so little had happened out of it. "There's nothing to tell. I like her and that's it."

Esmund sat back and appraised him again. "Nope. Don't believe you. Try again."

He sighed and prepared to divulge all the minutiae he knew his brother wanted. "We've been working together for a few years. I didn't really notice her until we argued once, then I recommended her for a promotion, then we sort of became friends."

"And?!"

"And nothing. We're still friends."

"Why just friends?"

"She has – had – someone."

Esmund stuck his head forward and scowled. "Had?! Old news! Why haven't you pounced?"

Percival couldn't stop himself groaning. "I'm not pouncing. Ever. Anyway, boyfriend or not, she has shown no interest in being anything other than my friend."

"Hmm." They both finished their drinks and Esmund poured them more, lost in thought. "How long?"

He rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know. I suppose it all started when she was promoted."

"When was that?"

"About…two years ago."

Esmund spluttered. "Two years?! Two years and you've only just told me about her!"

Percival felt relieved and raw all at once. "Yeah, well. It's gotten a lot worse lately."

"Worse?" He laughed. "Only you could describe an exciting office tryst as 'worse'."

"It's not a 'tryst'." He snapped. "And it's not exciting. It's getting in the way of work."

"Oh, Perce!" Esmund shook his head while looking totally delighted. "What happened to you? You used to have so many witches - "

"No I didn't!"

"- hanging off your arm! You did! Don't lie!"

He sighed, feeling the warmth of his third Firewhiskey spreading through him, and conceded. "I was young – what, early twenties? Fresh out of auror training and cocky as hell." He couldn't stop himself chuckling and shaking his head. "I was stupid."

"Yeah, you were." Esmund tipped his glass to him, guffawing. He took a deep swig and then said more seriously, "But I idolised you then, you know? I was still in school and I just…wanted to be you."

Percival had never heard him say it before but there had always been a degree of envy between the both of them. "Yeah." He thought before snorting and saying, "And a few years later, when you started romping around the world with nothing but a compass and a notebook, I wanted to be you."

Regaining some of his swagger, Esmund leaned back in his seat. "You had to come to your senses sometime."

He couldn't deny he envied his brother's freedom. Percival was shackled to his job, to his parents' expectations, to his own desire to do things right. Esmund, quickly learning as a teenager that he would never be able to compete with his brother, decided to do what he wanted instead. After some initial friction between him and their parents, they became accustom to his desire to be the wild one in the family. Percival, having done everything his parents had expected, was somewhere between proud and trapped.

Esmund relit his pipe and steered the conversation back with a smirk. "So, what happened to that cocky Percival in his twenties?"

"Thankfully, he settled down and realised he enjoyed his work more than parties."

Esmund snorted. "Nonsense! He's gotta be in there somewhere! What would he do to woo Trixie Barnes?"

He made a face. "I'm not sure he's the best person to ask. It's not like he kept anyone around for very long."

His brother's head tilted in curiosity and Percival realised that he might have given too much away. "Didn't realise you wanted to keep her around."

Fighting the urge to slide down in his seat and crawl to the restaurant door, Percival quickly caught the eye of a waiter and said, "Let's order food before this Firewhiskey kicks in too hard."

Esmund opened his mouth, paused and then closed it, choosing to look over the menu instead.

Their plates scraped clean and the bottle mostly empty, the brothers' evening had gotten considerably more amusing. Esmund was happily regaling his older brother with his adventures since they had last spoken.

" - I'm not joking! A banshee! How she managed to hide herself among the villagers is a mystery."

Percival chortled into his drink, imagining his brother dosing himself up on Laughing Potion and tackling a banshee. "Ireland sounds like an interesting place."

"We'll have to go sometime! Surely you're due a holiday? When was the last time you took a day off?"

He tried to concentrate but the whiskey was making everything hazy. "No idea." He said eventually. "I haven't had anything to take days off for."

Esmund snorted. "Oh, boohoo poor you. 'I'm Percival Graves and my family's rich and I've got a good job and I'm crazy smart and I'm really powerful and life is just so hard.' Pfft! You've just got to stop over-thinking everything!"

He wanted to hit his brother on the arm but he couldn't quite be bothered. Instead, he tipsily considered his words while staring around at the mostly deserted restaurant. It had gotten dark outside without him noticing. Trixie Barnes and her clan had long left – he remembered her waving at him from across the room with a lovely smile.

He looked down and watched the Firewhiskey swirl in his glass, leaning into the silence.

"I think I might be in love with her."

Esmund spluttered mid-drink, golden drops spraying down his chin. He swallowed quickly, his eyes wide. "Are you serious?!"

Percival's jaw clenched. "Is that so unbelievable?"

His brother wiped his face with a napkin before answering. "No. It's just…unexpected." He puffed out his cheeks. "Well, that's sobered me up."

He fidgeted in his seat, avoiding Esmund's gaze. He drank deeply, trying to focus on the burn in his throat rather than the increasing heat on his face. He considered trying to change the subject but Es wasn't going to let this drop and he'd already come this far…

"So." He cleared his throat. "What am I going to do?"

A slow smile spread across Esmund's face. "You're asking for advice?"

"…I suppose."

He placed his glass down and didn't refill it, looking at Percival with newfound purpose. "Alright. Tell me about her. What do you know?"

"She likes…" He groped for something, frowning. "Flowers. She likes people being nice to each other."

"Are you sure you two are friends?" Esmund muttered.

"She likes things done properly." He continued, choosing to ignore his brother's interruption. "She does rune riddles and reads romance novels. She wears a lot of purple and eats a lot of chocolate. She makes a killer cherry pie." He floundered for more information that was actually fact based instead of blind adoration. "She's very observant, she's very sociable…oh, it's her birthday tomorrow. And in meetings - "

"Hang on! It's her birthday tomorrow? You should have led with that! Now, we can do something with that."

He groaned. "And what are we going to do? Buying a present isn't going to change the fact that she's shown no interest - "

"Give her a chance! How long has it been since she and her beau split?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know – two weeks?"

"There you go! She's probably not even thought about anyone else yet." He leaned across the table excitedly. "The point is: when she does start thinking about someone else, you'll be the first in line. You've just got to get yourself noticed."

He made a face. "That just sounds creepy."

"Well, it's not. All I'm suggesting is that you carry on as normal but be a bit…softer."

He laughed into the quiet. "You mean be less like myself?"

"No! Just…put yourself out there a bit. You know, dip your toe in."

Percival had his doubts. He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable by making some horrible, obvious advance on her. But he supposed buying her a birthday present wasn't a terrible idea – friends did that anyway, right?

"Alright. I'll dip a toe."

"Yes!" This time, Esmund actually did punch the air and Percival groaned, already half regretting his decision.

A tired-looking waitress called from across the room, "Excuse me, sirs? We're closing."

"Ah! Apologies!" Esmund threw down some dragots and Percival did the same, comfortably covering their bill and a generous tip.

Their shoulders jostled as they stumbled to the door and headed for home. "All we need to do now," Esmund said, thwacking his brother on the shoulder affectionately. "Is to find the perfect gift." He chuckled suddenly. "Honestly, this is turning out to be a far more exciting weekend than I expected. Tomorrow, we begin our present hunt!"

Percival had a sinking feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with Firewhiskey. "Great."

Trixie rode the elevator to the Major Investigations floor with a smile on her face. Her birthday weekend had been full of cake and presents and a lot of tipsy family meals. While it had been strange to have her first birthday without Bobby around, she knew it was for the best. And her family, while still obviously missing him, were no longer questioning whether she really had made the best decision in ending their relationship.

She walked the bustling corridor to the department, greeting her colleagues cheerily as she passed them. She shook off her jacket and passed it to the coat stand, eager to clear her desk of last week's lingering paperwork before this week's arrived. But when she sat down, her eyes were immediately drawn to a rectangular parcel wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with purple ribbon. She picked it up and turned it over but there was no note. She looked around her to see if anyone was watching but everyone was already engrossed in their work. Too curious to wait, she untied the ribbon and pulled open the wrapping paper. It was a beautifully bound book – deep burgundy with stunning bronze embossing. Then she read the title and gasped.

'The Dragon's Dragots'

Hardly able to believe it, she checked the blurb to make sure this really was what she thought it was.

'Isi, the youngest and smartest member of Salem's Witches Institute, has joined what she believes is the greatest group of witches in the world. But after the sudden death of their leader, she is tasked with keeping the Institute afloat. Isi thinks the only way to save it is with the support of an influential member of wizarding society. She sells everything she has to get an invitation to a masked ball at Honor Hall – the home of the handsome recluse known only as 'the Dragon'. Join Isi as she becomes embroiled in a world of scandal, dark magic and bloody secrets to save the thing she loves the most. But will she lose herself along the way?'

She took a sharp intake of breath. It really was it: a copy of the extremely rare first novel of her favourite romance novelist, Nita Shikoba. She stared at it with wonder, her fingers tracing the bronze lines on the front. Unable to stop herself, she flicked open the book, just wanting to read the first line –

She squeaked and a few of her colleagues glanced at her in curiosity. Oblivious, Trixie stared at the beautiful handwritten note inside with her mouth agape.

'Dear Trixie, thank you for being such a dedicated fan of my work. The Dragon's Dragots had such a limited run but I'm still so proud of it – I'm happy to share it with a lifelong follower such as yourself. Enjoy your birthday! Best wishes, Nita.'

Nita Shikoba had written to her. Nita Shikoba had written her name. Nita Shikoba wished her a happy birthday.

If she had been alone, she would have screamed. Instead, she stared at the note until her breathing had returned to normal. She closed the book, not trusting that she could stop herself reading the whole thing now. Curiosity gnawed at her and she searched through the paper again, desperate for a note. Again, she came up empty handed.

But who…?

Only a few people in work even knew it had been her birthday and they had already given her cards on Friday. The only other person was…

Her stomach lurched in a way that didn't feel entirely unpleasant. Surely Mr Graves hadn't done this?

Knowing that she couldn't wait to find out, she quickly filed away some of the papers on her desk and decided to deliver them to him personally. Oddly nervous, she clutched the files to her and she made her way through the corridor to the door of his office. Swallowing, she knocked quietly.

"Enter!"

Taking one last breath, she opened the door with a smile. "Good morning, Mr Graves."

He had a strange expression on his face, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. "Miss Barnes. Good morning." There was a pause where she considered how to ask him about the gift and how stupid she would look if he hadn't given it to her. Thankfully, he helped her by asking, "Did you enjoy your birthday?"

"I did, thank you." Unable to bring herself to ask outright, she awkwardly gestured over her shoulder and said, "Was the book…"

"Uh…yes." Was she imagining it or did the usually confident and suave Mr Graves look slightly uncomfortable? Her stomach gave another lurch and she suddenly found herself beaming.

"Thank you so much!" She rushed to his desk, her excitement returning with breathless enthusiasm. "It's honestly the best present I've ever had. I've never been able to find a copy of The Dragon's Dragots and for her to have signed it - " She gave a long sigh. "It's amazing. Really."

He fidgeted in his chair. "I'm glad you like it."

"I do. So much. But how did you get it? I can't even imagine difficult it must have been."

"It was easy, really." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I visited my parents this weekend and Nita Shikoba's an old school friend of my mother's - "

"What?!" Trixie burst, unable to stop herself. "She was there?! At your parents' house?"

"Yes."

"Right." Trixie said, her voice oddly high pitched. "Sure she was."

She swayed on the spot, lightheaded with the excitement of it all. She grasped the desk quickly, her foot nearly twisting on her heel. He was up immediately and at her side, a reassuringly large hand on her back. The warmth was doing nothing to bring her back to reality. In fact, it was only making her feel even more giddy. She looked up at him and noticed for the first time how delightfully dark his eyes were -

"Miss Barnes? Are you alright?"

"Hmm?" She blinked. "Oh yes." She laughed nervously. "A new book always gets me giddy."

His hand dropped away from her back and she shivered. He cleared his throat. "Well."

She straightened herself. "Well. Thank you again." She hesitated. Should she shake his hand? Surely they were beyond that, they were friends after all. Before she had really thought it through, she found herself on tiptoes, placing the lightest kiss on his cheek. She felt him take in a deep breath and as she pulled away, his hand closed over her wrist, pressing against her delicate skin with slightly rough fingertips.

His eyes really were very dark.

Then he let go and stepped away, leaving her stood alone with wide eyes and a warmth on her cheeks. He paused, looking at her, before sitting back at his desk and smoothing his already perfectly tamed hair back. Trixie's mouth was suddenly very dry. She swallowed.

"I should probably go." She remembered the file she was still clutching. "Oh, and this is for you. Not quite a rare, signed book but…" She trailed off awkwardly and was relieved to see him smile.

"Not quite. But I'm sure your work is as good."

She regained some of her confidence and mock frowned at him. "Hey now! No need to insult Nita like that."

He chuckled and took the file from her. She squirmed under his gaze before saying quietly, "Thank you. You really didn't have to."

"I know." He frowned before giving her a small smile. "Consider it a thank you for…listening to me."

She bit her lip and crossed her arms. "I would have done that anyway."

He looked surprised but quickly regained his composure. "I'll take the book back then."

She couldn't stop herself laughing loudly, relieved that the odd tension had broken, and made her way to the door. "No, I think I'll keep hold of it. In case you want to talk again."

He nodded, half smiling. "I'll keep that mind."

"Do." She opened the door. "Have a good Monday, Mr Graves."

"You too, Miss Barnes."

When the door closed behind her, she realised her heart was racing. She couldn't deny she was feeling a little shaken by the whole thing. Was Mr Graves really allowed to buy her gifts? And such decadent ones at that!

She almost laughed, shaking off her hysteria. They were just friends and friends did this sort of thing all the time. And she had a feeling that Mr Graves didn't have many people he would call friends. She decided not to dwell on it and just be excited about her book instead. She couldn't wait to start reading, already hoping to finish work promptly so she could take it home and enjoy it properly.

So she made her way back to her desk and carried on her work as usual, occasionally touching her wrist where he had and absentmindedly thinking that her fingers felt nothing like his.