Claude Arcand was a loud, boisterous, and pretentious man, and Hermione took an immediate dislike to him. Despite being the leader of the French magical community, the man quite evidently cared more about his own seat of power than the people for whom he was meant to look out.
The irony was that many of the people he was currently failing were making a solid attempt to rise up and overthrow him from his seat atop the French Ministry.
The French community, as a result, was divisive and ridden with strife—the situation was already worse than Hermione had realised. Those who were opposed to Arcand's support of the Avance policies were in the minority, but they were keen to make their voices heard. And many were witches and wizards who, like Hermione, were opposed to the poor treatment their fellow magical citizens were receiving.
They learned a remarkable amount in only one day in France. In Paris, the meeting with Minister Arcand was like speaking to a brick wall. For one thing, he refused to speak any English, despite that they knew him to be bilingual. Hermione's conversational French was rusty, but at least Malfoy was fluent. Regardless, Arcand had no interest in meeting with them—he was cold and sneering and eager to rush them away.
Hermione could see the disdain evident on Malfoy's face when they had retreated to evaluate their course of action.
Clearly, the iron grip of Avance ran as deeply as they had imagined, if not more so.
Upon arriving in Paris, Elias Bergen had taken a small team of advisers and guards to begin his underground reconnaissance into the world of Avance; the bulk of the guard had stayed with the Lunae Ortus.
And so far, they were nowhere.
Hugo had been in charge of accommodations—he had managed to convince Malfoy he was required on the trip, so he had spent the first day with his father—and he had secured them lodging at a posh hotel beyond the outskirts of Paris that might as well have been a castle.
Hermione was uncertain whether Hugo thought he was being considerate or thoughtful, but he had booked the two of them into the same room—catching her tongue on a retort, she was left only to hope the room contained separate beds.
Although they had kissed at the bonding ceremony, wild magic raging between them, things between her and Malfoy had remained otherwise aloof—and they had been as prone to disagreements as ever. Learning to work together would most certainly take time. But despite that the day hadn't provided anything fruitful, she hadn't seen any rudeness or frustration aimed her way.
The tension of the day sat heavy on his shoulders as he pushed open the door to their shared quarters. When a breath of relief chased from her lips at the sight of two beds, she could have sworn his lips twitched.
"No interest in sharing, I presume?" he murmured, planting a coin into the palm of the young bellhop who delivered their things.
Colour flushing into her cheeks, she gaped wordlessly, disinterested in offending him but unsure as to what sort of response he was expecting.
Until he huffed a laugh and said, "Pick one."
"Nearest the window," she said instantly, claiming the furthest bed.
"Granger likes the window," Malfoy muttered, almost under his breath; he flashed her a wink and added, "noted." When she turned back, mouth open to speak, he was closer than she had anticipated. As he stared down at her, a furrow settled into his brow. "I suppose I'll need to know these things one day… maybe."
A hint of humour tugged at her lips. "You're in a strange mood."
"Would you rather I grouch and complain all over the place?" he asked, lifting a delicate brow. "We anticipated the meeting with Arcand to go poorly. His lack of receptivity to us is indicative of the depth of Avance's influence. And if Avance didn't have the pull with Arcand that we've already seen, there would be no issue."
His logic made sense, and Hermione took a seat cross-legged on her bed as her head fell to the side in a tilt. "I guess you're right. Have you heard anything back from Elias yet?"
Malfoy shook his head. "No—but that will likely take time, too. It's all steeped in so much mystery. We could have looked for information on Avance from England, but the source matters. And the credibility of the source. I trust Bergen, and he's not led us astray. It might take a few days—and in the meanwhile, you and I have plenty of meetings to keep us busy."
Drawing their itinerary from her bag, Hermione scanned the list. "Centaurs tomorrow?"
"Centaurs." The bridge of his nose wrinkled. "I can't say my own experiences with centaurs have ever been altogether pleasant—but at least Firenze was a better Divination instructor than Trelawney was."
Hermione scoffed before realizing he was being serious. "You actually buy all of that toss?"
Ducking his chin, he stared at her like she was insane. "What toss? Divination is valid when dealing with a proper Seer. Trelawney made one or two half-arsed predictions in her life and Dumbledore gave her a job. You can't measure the entire art against one lunatic."
She folded her arms, lifting a brow as she returned to the itinerary. "Werewolves the next."
"Honestly?" Malfoy was insistent. "You can't tell me after everything that's happened in the last month that you don't believe in obscure forms of magic? Or did you think the Lunae bonds are common, everyday magic? Merlin, Granger—I've stepped into an inheritance where I magically connect with the moon, and you're telling me you don't think people can See the future."
Releasing a sigh, Hermione lifted her head. His expression suggested he didn't know what to make of her. "Fine, Malfoy. I suppose the idea has some merit."
"You never believed in magic, did you?" he asked, his tone flippant and soft. "Until—suddenly—you were a witch."
"Blast," she muttered. It was a valid point.
Draco wasn't entirely certain he wanted to meet with an entire herd of slighted centaurs, based on his vague recollections of the way they tended to hold grudges. After a moment of consideration, he reminded himself they weren't the ones forcing the centaurs to search for their missing loved ones.
The herd they were to meet with were about two dozen in number, and thankfully they spoke English. Granger's French was mediocre at best, and of the two of them, she was the one more apt in communicating with magical creatures. She probably even understood their customs, though she claimed not to believe in Divination. Although after their discussion on the topic the night before, Draco could only hope she wouldn't offend them with her dismissal of their astrological practices.
The centaurs were currently situated in a forest outside of Avignon, and the pair of them Portkeyed into a field a respectable distance away before walking into the forest.
Draco had been told only that the herd was expecting them, and that their presence in the forest would be noted. He had managed to persuade the guards that had been acting like his shadow since arriving in France that their attendance for the meeting was not only unnecessary but would also likely act as a hindrance in building trust with the centaurs. So he found himself alone with Granger, again.
It had been strange to share a room the night before, because although she had been living in the Manor for weeks already, they weren't actively in one another's space very often. He could tell she had been relieved their hotel room had two beds, but a small part of Draco had been interested in seeing her squirm had there only been one.
Of course, the trust he hoped they could one day establish was still, as of yet, a pipe dream.
As was any possible physical relationship.
She paced at his side, wringing her hands—he had started to pick up on her physical and verbal tells, and this one was a sign of her nerves.
"Anything last minute I should know?" he huffed under his breath, well aware there were most likely arrows trained on them at the moment.
Her eyes slid to the side to meet his, but she carried on forwards. "Do not insult them."
"I wasn't planning on it," he growled, feeling on edge as surely as he could feel eyes watching him. "But thanks for the reminder."
Any response she might have attempted to dredge up was cut short when a female centaur blocked their path; Draco hadn't seen or heard her approach. Long black hair flowed down her back in dreadlocks, and while her face was beautiful, her expression was severe; she emanated a cold mixture of fury and despair. Her voice was low as she announced, "That's far enough."
Granger squared her shoulders even as she ducked her chin in a hesitant nod. Determined to follow her lead, Draco echoed the gesture; the centaur dropped her chin as well, recognizing the greeting.
"My name is Hermione Malfoy." Shifting on her feet, she held her hands forward, palms up; he noticed the slight stutter when she said his surname instead of her former one. "Lunae Amor of the Nocturnus Order. This is the Lunae Ortus—Draco Malfoy."
The centaur met his stare, clapping a hand over her heart.. "Lunae Ortus—and Lunae Amor. Thank you for coming. My name is Willow. Please, come this way."
They ventured deeper into the forest, and while Draco was still aware of an additional presence hidden in the trees, he was relieved the initial contact had been well received. And given they were there to offer their assistance, he didn't expect any arrows to the heart. Willow was silent as they walked, and the trees grew so thick he could no longer see the brightness of the sun above.
At last Willow spoke as they passed a flowing stream. "We do not always take such care with our camps, but as of late, more and more of our numbers have vanished." She carried a tense set to her shoulders and back as she walked ahead of them on four legs; Draco idly wondered if she found them to be slow.
Slipping his hands into his trousers, Draco said, "We are sorry to hear of your recent troubles. The Nocturnus Order is staunchly opposed to the policy shifts the French Ministry has put forward."
"That," Willow stated as she snapped her head back to stare at him, "is the only reason you've made it this far alive."
Granger's next step was a little closer to him. "I can't help but notice you speak with an English accent," she mused. "Is your herd originally from England?"
WIllow's answer was short and unhelpful. "Yes." But moments later, they broached a clearing where around fifteen centaurs lingered. "Some of our numbers are hunting and gathering at the moment. But we here are the last of our herd. When we left England, we numbered forty-three."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Draco said, a furrow lifting into his brow. "Do you know why humans would be targeting you?"
Lip curling with revulsion, Willow swept back her long hair. "The same reason humans always target us—they believe us to be lesser. They believe they can take our hair, our hooves—for their own petty usages. Many of us have been captured and kidnapped; we know at least some to be still alive, but we do not know where."
"That's terrible," Granger huffed, horrified. "Can I ask… how do you know they are still alive?"
A new, deeper voice entered the conversation. "We have read it in the stars. But where they are… that remains obscured."
Fighting back the urge to smile in Granger's direction, Draco kept his face blank. He wondered about her thoughts on that answer.
But the male centaur turned to Draco, offering his hand. "Lunae Ortus and Lunae Amor of the Nocturnus Order. My name is Fletcher; you have met my sister, Willow. Thank you for your consideration of our plight."
"Fletcher." Accepting the handshake, Draco nodded. "I am hopeful we can help with the situation."
"As are we," Fletcher affirmed. His hair was long as well, wilder than WIllow's, and he wore a beard. His blue eyes flashed with authority. "Most recently, several weeks ago three of our herd were taken. Before that, it had been two months. That is when our leader—my father, Firenze—was captured."
Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "Firenze. You are the centaur herd who lived in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts."
"We were." Fletcher gave a somber nod; Willow stood, silent but proud, at his side. "We left for the continent after the end of your wizarding war in search of a safer home. We were misled."
The situation felt incredibly close to home, and Draco forced a swallow. "I knew your father—he was one of my instructors at Hogwarts. He was both knowledgeable and kind. I'm sorry to hear of his capture."
Laying a hand over his heart, Fletcher dropped his head into a deep nod of recognition. Clapping a hand to Draco's shoulder, he said, "Thank you, my friend. As I hear it, both you and I have had our new roles thrust upon us. Our herd appreciates the steps you both are taking."
"We'll do whatever we can to help," Granger said, her head in a thoughtful tilt. "Thank you for meeting with us—it's helpful to understand the situation here in France."
"The situation is dire," Fletcher said, his deep voice stern, "all across France—and not only for magical beings like us. Some humans offer their sympathy, but many do not care. In our opinions, it is a matter of time before certain groups of humans become mistreated and marginalised as well."
Granger breathed, "Muggle-borns."
Fletcher gave another nod. "Our herd does not anticipate positive change—and we would have already left, were we not still harbouring hope for recovering our lost friends."
Trailing his fingers along the small of Granger's back, Draco met Fletcher's bright stare once more. "We anticipate change—one way or another."
Understanding the reference, Fletcher clasped the longbow strapped across his chest. "Should it come to it—we fight alongside Nocturnus."
"Thank you." Ducking his head into another nod, having determined they appreciated the respect of it, he added, "We'll keep in touch as we can, and we will seek to do anything within our power to help."
"We appreciate any help you are able to provide."
Both Fletcher and Willow planted their hands over their hearts again; Draco and Granger followed suit before turning to leave the forest.
While the initial meeting with the centaurs had gone well enough to give Draco hope that the rest of the magical creature groups they were to meet with would be equally receptive, they were sorely mistaken.
The following day, they met with a pack of werewolves who had left Marseilles due to extreme prejudice and were living together in a tent village outside of the city. While their civilization had seemed organized enough at the outset, their alpha wolf was an angry and bloodthirsty man who wanted nothing more than for the citizens of Marseilles to be caught outdoors during the next full moon.
He had no desire for a civil conversation, and it was readily apparent the rest of the pack were too frightened to stand up to him, despite that some of them watched Draco and Granger with hope in their eyes.
Before they made a hasty retreat, Granger had loudly announced the Nocturnus Order would be doing their best to resolve the situation that was sweeping France like wildfire.
But the alpha was salivating just staring at her, and Draco still had frequent enough nightmares about Fenrir Greyback that he wasn't keen to linger any longer than necessary. So the pair of them had returned to the hotel, emotionally fraught and fatigued.
The day after that, they met with a coven of vampires outside of Bordeaux—and the Nocturnus Guard had been bound and determined to attend that meeting; Draco hadn't been keen to argue. The elder of the coven, while discouraged over the situation, wasn't very interested in speaking with them. The coven had once shared a mutual exchange with a local hospital of labour for packaged blood, but the coven had been forced out by policy shifts and left to fend for themselves; driven by thirst, many of them had eventually turned to feasting on the population of Bordeaux instead.
Once more, he and Granger hadn't stayed for long.
All of it had left Draco feeling both disarmed and frustrated. Out of four meetings so far, only one had proved even remotely informative, and they currently had no means of helping the kidnapped centaur population.
Beneath all of it, running like a current through Draco's veins, was the concern that they had yet to hear from Elias and Hugo Bergen. The daily reports of the Nocturnus Guard when they swapped shifts were only to mention that everything was well and that Bergen needed more time.
And until he received a proper report on Avance, they wouldn't know the details of what they were up against.
All they had learned since arriving in France was that things were worse than they even realised and that Avance's crusade of terror ran deep and hit hard. The French Ministry would be of no help, and neither would most of the creatures who were being victimised by the drastic shifts in policy.
What Draco needed was someone inside the French Ministry—better yet, he needed someone inside Avance. But that was unlikely, and he wasn't certain he wanted to take things to that level just yet.
One thing was clear: Avance wasn't interested in backing down, and the threat of war with Nocturnus was not enough to deter them. Which left him wondering once more about Avance's true aim—and where in the name of Merlin they had come from.
Peering out over the balcony of his hotel room, Draco could see the lights of Paris in the distance. Fatigue—both physical and mental—sat heavy on his heart. Many times he'd seen Paris, but never had he felt such despair. Such an overwhelming sense of responsibility, coupled with a lack of ability.
A waning crescent moon was rising into the sky, and he allowed his eyes to flutter shut; the presence of the moon brought relief and a quiet assurance. He could feel the way it delved into his overwrought soul, seeking to strengthen him from within while magic pulsed at the tips of his fingers. As he opened his palm to the sky, the magic shimmered free of his skin, culminating into a sphere of silver light hovering above his hand.
Focusing on the orb, he didn't notice Granger until she was at his side, leaning on the balcony railing. Her voice was soft and sounded as exhausted as he felt. "Should I be concerned about you throwing that at me?"
"Remember," Draco mused, still not averting his gaze from the magic, "I can't hurt you. You're glad for that clause in the contract now, aren't you?"
She snickered, shifting closer to his side. "I don't believe you'd attack me with it—but yes, I am. Although I have to wonder what would happen if you tried."
Releasing the globe of magic as it continued to grow, Draco pushed it upwards; they both watched as the shimmering sphere broke into millions of sparkling particles before bursting into the air and drifting away. "It depends on the intent—or so I'm told."
"So if I were Avance," she said, turning to him with a leading stare.
"If you were Avance," Draco breathed, his voice low, "you don't want me to summon the moon."
She shifted with a shiver, understanding his meaning, even as she brandished her own palm towards the sky. "I wonder if any of the power transferred during the bonding ceremony."
Both of them stared at her palm—she with concentration, and he with interest—but he looked away after she laid her palm back down at her side. Draco shrugged, turning to face the moon again. "You might be able to—just work at it. In case you haven't realised by now… a lot of this was never properly documented. I don't know the full extent of the lunar affiliation, beyond the fact that I wouldn't want to be my enemy when it releases."
Granger stared at him for a long moment before tucking into his side. Surprised, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders; clad only in a thin long-sleeve shirt and jeans, she was cold, and she didn't pull away from his touch even when he drew her closer into his chest. The silence between them grew tense, charged with an unfamiliar energy that raced through his veins until finally she sighed. Her voice was so soft he almost had to strain to hear her. "I know this isn't how we were hoping things would go in France," she mused, "but we're only just scratching the surface. It's important to know where everything stands."
"I need to know what Bergen has found," Draco said, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "We need to know everything about Avance—so we know what we're up against." After a long moment of silence, he added, "So we know how we can bring them down."
Her lashes fluttered as she shifted to look up at him; her expression was unreadable. Then she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek—no more than a brush of her lips—and stepped out of his embrace. "Be sure you get some sleep."
Squeezing her shoulder, he only nodded before turning back to the moon.
Author's Note: Surprise! It isn't Monday. I've spoken with my beta, and at least for the next handful of weeks while the world is closing down and falling apart, I'll be posting a chapter every 5 days rather than every 7. Then we'll re-evaluate from there; if I can continue to maintain a schedule of 5 days I will.
I desperately and sincerely hope you're all keeping safe and healthy. Together we're going to get through this. xoxo
Your words mean SO much to me during these challenging times, and I'm so thrilled to know so many of you are still enjoying this story. Your comments and reviews really brighten my day. Thanks so much for reading.
Alpha and beta hearts to Kyonomiko, LadyKenz347, and ravenslight.