Walking into the room without looking up, Hermione brandished a scroll. "We've received a letter."

"From the Ministry?" Malfoy asked, sweeping a towel through his wet hair when she glanced his way.

She froze, unable to keep from casting a quick sweep of his bare chest. Clearing her throat, she pressed her lips into a smile. "Yes. Kingsley has agreed to meet with us. Although his response sounds less than enthused."

Lips twitching with a smirk, he nodded. "Which we expected. When are we going?"

"Two o'clock." When his eyes widened, she added, "He hasn't exactly given us much notice—but maybe that's a good thing. We don't have anything else planned for today, do we?"

"No." Eyes tightening, he fixed her with a stare, humour tugging at his lips despite the situation, presumably at her reaction to his partial nudity. "It will be an interesting dynamic to visit the Ministry. The impression I've been given is that we aren't exactly their favourite people—although how much that has to do with Avance will be up for discussion. I'll let the guards know."

It felt strange to consider that after spending years working for the Ministry now she would have to walk in with armed guards at her side. But Malfoy was right—though she hardly cared to admit it—they didn't know exactly what they were walking into.

She watched as he left through the sitting room and spoke with the guards posted in their private wing before returning with a tight expression. "Let's hope we're making the right call here. For all we know, Shacklebolt's in bed with Avance and we're walking into another trap."

"No," Hermione mused, grimacing. "I think Harry would have warned me if that was the state of things at the Ministry."

Dropping his voice, he intoned, "Potter might not know." As the implication settled into the back of her mind—that things at the Ministry might be worsening behind closed doors—he stepped closer, staring down at her and pulling her hand into his. "We just need to be prepared."

Nodding, she managed a strained, "Of course."

Draco felt more uncomfortable than he had anticipated when they arrived at the Ministry. Not keen on drawing too much attention to themselves, they'd dressed in something more innocuous than their Nocturnus robes—but it didn't help to have three guards along dressed in uniform.

And even though Granger had been an employee at the Ministry and knew her way around, she worried her lip as they arrived in the main atrium. Draco could feel eyes on him as they made for the lifts, and he fought the urge to sneer in return. Their aim had been to keep the chaos in France at bay, and it felt as if everyone in the Ministry was opposed to them as a result.

Chin held high, he planted a hand to the small of Granger's back, pleased when she shifted closer to his touch.

He had never had cause to become overly familiar with the layout of the Ministry, and as Granger led their small group along a maze of corridors, he was startled to see them pass by the Auror's Office. With a small wave, she caught Potter's attention through the window, and the man blinked in surprise as he took them in before venturing out into the hallway.

"Hermione," Potter greeted with a nod. "Malfoy—and entourage."

Draco managed a tight, "Potter," in return. He supposed the man had fed him dinner, which put them on a different plane of existence with one another. It was the least he could do, for Granger's sake, to be friendly.

"We are meeting with Kingsley," she said quietly, her tone careful. "Anything we should know about?"

In that instant, Draco realised she hadn't needed to walk this way—but he was grateful for her forethought, as Potter's face wrinkled with a grimace.

With a quick glance around, he nodded. "Avance has been prodding Kingsley—more than before. You're going to have to tread carefully; Arcand is taking a very aggressive road in getting the British Ministry on his side. I don't think Kingsley's fallen for it, but… he's under a lot of pressure, and the Wizengamot isn't interested in hearing your side of the matter." Glancing around again, he added, "You didn't hear any of that from me."

Swallowing, Draco clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Potter."

With a half-hearted press of the lips, Potter melted back into the Auror's Office; Granger offered Draco a mere flicker of her brows and they carried onwards.

By the time they reached the Minister's office via her detour, an unpleasant feeling had settled in the pit of Draco's stomach. More and more, he wondered whether they were making a mistake in seeking out the Ministry as a potential ally of sorts.

Especially when, by all appearances, the Wizengamot was opposed to their presence in Britain at all.

The expression on Shacklebolt's face when they passed by his administrator's desk was unreadable, but he ushered the group of them into the office. Two of the guards kept post outside the office, while the third hovered by the door at their backs as they slipped into the seats across from Shacklebolt's desk. If the man was disconcerted by the presence of the guards, he gave no sign.

While Draco was still considering how to broach the subject at hand, Granger leaned forward in her seat. "Minister Shacklebolt, thank you for agreeing to meet with us today—"

The man, however, stared at her and raised a hand. "Kingsley, please, Hermione."

All Draco knew about the situation was that the two of them had fought in the Order of the Phoenix together during the war, but from the relief that overtook her countenance, he surmised it to be a good sign.

"Of course," she said with a peacemaking smile. "As you are aware, we've received a Wizengamot summons. However, with the rules governing the Nocturnus Order, we don't operate under the realm of governmental rule, so essentially—"

"It means nothing," Shacklebolt said with a bit of a chuckle, glancing Draco's way. "I told the Wizengamot that, but they insisted that it needed to look as if they were doing something. I think a few of them suspected they might have been able to strongarm you into compliance. What better alternative they think they might see, I have no idea."

Confused, Draco cast a glance in Granger's direction, but her face was tight. Clearing his throat, he asked, "What exactly do you mean by that, sir?"

Shacklebolt hesitated for a moment, looking between them. "I can only assume that everything said between the three of us will be kept in the strictest confidence." When they both nodded, he went on with a sigh. "Minister Arcand has been breathing down my neck, and many on the Wizengamot fear what might happen if we don't follow along with his demands. That is why I allowed them to send you that summons—knowing full well that you likely wouldn't respond."

"Kingsley," Granger intoned, her chin down and lips parted, "are you saying you support us?"

Interlacing his fingers on his desk, Shacklebolt said quietly, "I am. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me you have something useful in bringing down Avance or dislodging Arcand from his seat."

"Unfortunately it's a bit more complicated than that," Granger broke in, hesitantly meeting Draco's stare. He offered an infinitesimal nod, and she went on. "Arcand is just a mouthpiece—a role in a position of power through whom Avance can make their interests known; the leader is a character named Cosette. But their roots lie with an ancient society out of Italy called Alba." Glancing at Granger, uncertain how much to share, he carried on when she offered a nod. "As it turns out, Alba has always existed for the sole purpose of dismantling the Nocturnus Order."

With a grimace, he held Shacklebolt's stare.

If the Ministry was on their side beneath the public facade, this could all bounce back on everyone involved. Shacklebolt had a vested interest in keeping this information close to the chest.

The Minister cursed loudly and released a huff. "What can the Ministry do for you that won't appear overt? Outwardly, we need to keep Avance's suspicions low."

"Get the Wizengamot off our backs," Granger carried on. "We need to ensure access to Portkeys and other international travel we need won't be affected. The reason we can do anything with Avance at all is because we aren't confined by the bureaucracy between two Ministries. Anything you can do to keep our way forward smooth and undeterred would be appreciated."

"I will do what I can," Shacklebolt responded, glancing once more between the two of them. "But for the sake of simplicity in our operations here at the Ministry and with regards to relations between Great Britain and France, it cannot appear that way." Swallowing, he added, "Some would have my job for this. Many are in dissent of your involvement, thinking you are causing problems where there are none."

"They are in support of Arcand's radical shifts then?" Granger asked, her tone irritated.

"Some are," Shacklebolt conceded. "And some simply do not care to make waves."

"And that's why the situation has risen to the point where it's at now," Draco said with a hint of a sneer. "Because no one's been willing to stand against Arcand. It feels familiar, doesn't it."

Evenly, the Minister responded, "Then thank Merlin someone is."

Settling back into his chair, Draco offered a slow nod. "Noted."

"If anyone asks," Shacklebolt said, rising to his feet and adjusting his tie, "you've been here today because of outstanding sanctions."

With a snicker, Draco followed suit, taking Granger's hand and helping her to her feet. "Very well, then."

A troubled look crossed Shacklebolt's face as he rounded the desk towards the door. "Unfortunately, I fear there may be some within my Ministry I cannot trust."

"Avance?" Granger asked, her expression calculating.

Shacklebolt didn't respond but to tilt his head in an affirming gesture. "Be cautious in your correspondence."

Reading between the lines, Draco exchanged another glance with Granger as he extended a hand towards the Minister. "Thank you for your time."

With a brisk shake, Shacklebolt dropped his hand and opened the door; they left without another word.

Rubbing at bleary eyes, Draco leaned back against the headboard. Fatigue had settled into his bones and his soul; beside him, Granger had nodded off several times with one of the Alba tomes open in her lap.

Staring at the comforter, he announced, "I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"I know the feeling," she returned without missing a beat. "I think I've read this paragraph eight times."

Leaning forward, he swept a hand through his hair. "What are we doing anymore? I don't know what we're meant to be doing next."

Marking her page, Granger set her book on the nightstand with an ostentatious yawn. She pulled her knees tightly into her chest as she leaned back; when he glanced her way, her eyes were sorrowful and red from strain. "I think I just keep telling myself if we keep going and keep studying, we're bound to find something eventually. But I don't know anymore."

Shifting back, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders; without hesitation she sagged into him, dropping her face into his neck. Ordinarily, she was the level-headed one when he wound up caught in mental battles of his own making. To see her at a loss left a bitter twist in his stomach when it was because of him they were both in the situation.

Releasing a heavy breath, he said, "Avance is at our doorstep—hell, they've walked in the fucking door."

"We'll meet the council tomorrow," she said, her voice muffled against his collar. "And I keep trying to deny it to myself, but we have two options. We sit around and research and poke around in Alba's business and allow Avance time to prepare…"

"Or we hold our ground," Draco concluded in a breath. "And we show them we aren't going to sit by and allow them to take what we have."

Lifting her head, she met his gaze. "We take a stand." Swallowing, she shook her head, her expression lost. "They've made this personal. We need to bring the fight to their door."

"France," Draco mused, his fingers tightening around her arm as she shifted closer into his side. "What can we do to make them hurt?"

"We knock off the head," she whispered; the words hung, suspended in tension, between them for a long moment. When she blinked up at him again, her eyes were watery. "We have to take Arcand out of the equation."

Hesitating, Draco clenched his jaw. "Arcand is the king—but the queen has the power."

"It doesn't matter—without the king, the queen has no game left to play. And we have no way of reaching the queen," she reminded him with another yawn. "So unless you have a way of drawing out Cosette…"

His brain felt fit to combust with everything that had happened—and all they still needed to accomplish. "If we take Arcand out… who steps into power in France?"

"It's a dangerous game," she whispered, voice hushed. "The aim was to avoid war in France. You're talking about… inciting a rebellion or—"

"I'm talking about giving a nudge to things that are already in motion."

Face hard, he stared at her. With a wince, she sat up, turning to face him with her legs folded beneath her. "The resistance."

"The resistance," Draco agreed. "The creatures. If we can overpower Arcand—take the Ministry by force…"

On a gentle breath, Granger said, "Cosette loses her king."

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his mouth. "Checkmate."

The council table fell silent.

Finally Dagomir cleared his throat, breaking the tension, and said, "You want to forcibly remove Claude Arcand from his position in the French Ministry?"

"If we can do it without force," Draco said quietly, "that would be ideal. I realise we have no place in French politics."

"Cosette has forced our hand," Bergen said, his expression tight with consideration. "She has given us no choice but to get involved. I will look into the situation and see if we have any Nocturnus in the Ministry or on the French Wizengamot."

Draco glanced at Granger and gave a quick nod. "Good. That sounds good."

"It is not unheard of," Bergen went on, "for a Minister to be forced from his seat if the community is displeased. Your idea to incite a rebellion is… a dangerous one and possibly costly. But if we can remove Arcand, Cosette will lose her mouthpiece."

Nodding, Granger said, "Exactly. If Avance can't be heard, it will be a blow to their power and influence. Even more so if we can somehow establish an anti-Avance Minister in his place."

"I like it," Hugo announced to the group at large. "But what of Arcand? Surely he won't go down without a fight—not if Cosette is blackmailing him into the political stance he has taken on Avance's behalf."

They all considered the question for a moment, and Draco glanced at Hugo. It was a surprisingly astute thought for the young Swede, who looked bored at council meetings more often than not. At last he said, "Arcand will simply have to deal with it. Whatever he did that was unsavoury enough for him to wind up in Cosette's pocket will be his downfall."

He saw Granger's expression falter beside him and hesitated.

At last she folded her hands on the table and spoke. "It is unfortunate, if Arcand's involvement in the situation is unwilling. But he drew his lot, the same as anyone else—and we haven't been given a choice in the matter either. This is all Cosette's doing."

"The best way to strike nonconfidence in their leader will be through the French resistance," Bergen said; Oro's quill scribbled frantically down a scroll of parchment. "Arcand has his supporters, of course, and I daresay there will be enough of them to cause problems. And Cosette certainly won't sit back and allow us to knock Arcand from power without a fight."

"But this is one case where the bureaucratic lines might help us," Granger intoned, meeting Bergen's eye. "Arcand was elected into his position, and if the situation is dire, he can be removed by his people. Cosette will have trouble manipulating enough people to keep him in the Minister's seat."

Draco felt his lips twitch as he stared at her. "An excellent point. Who is second in command to Arcand?"

"Ministerial elections in France, and even in England, are not always so simple," Granger carried on, as the one at the table who knew the most about the inner workings of the office of the Minister for Magic. "Sometimes the Head Auror is up for election—sometimes the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Sometimes it's a close adviser of the Minister. It depends on the dynamics at the time."

"An election takes time," Bergen said, shaking his head. "Time we don't have and won't need. Arcand won't be running up the end of his term—he will be removed in advance of it. All we need to do is have someone credible in the French Ministry, and we have influence with the French people that we can nudge one of our own into the seat."

Granger's lips curled with a small smile. "I vote we proceed with this plan."

The notion was seconded and carried around the council. Pressing his palms flat on the table, Draco leaned forward in his seat. "It sounds to me as if Claude Arcand's days as the Minister for Magic are numbered."

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I'd just like to mention that this chapter was written months ago and takes no influence from current political climates. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you're all keeping extra safe and healthy. Thanks for reading as always!

Alpha love to Kyonomiko and LadyKenz347, and beta hugs to ravenslight.